"He's worried just now, you know."
"I didn't know. He doesn't confide in me much."
"He's worried about that waiter."
"What waiter, queen of my soul?"
"A man called Salvatore. Father dismissed him some time ago."
"Salvatore!"
"Probably you don't remember him. He used to wait on this table."
"Why"
"And father dismissed him, apparently, and now there's all sorts of trouble. You see, father wants to build this new hotel of his, and he thought he'd got the site and everything and could start building right away: and now he finds that this man Salvatore's mother owns a little newspaper and tobacco shop right in the middle of the site, and there's no way of getting him out without buying the shop, and he won't sell. At least, he's made his mother promise that she won't sell."
"A boy's best friend is his mother," said Archie approvingly. "I had a sort of idea all along"
"So father's in despair."
Archie drew at his cigarette meditatively.
"I remember a chappie—a policeman he was, as a matter of fact, and incidentally a fairly pronounced blighter—remarking to me some time ago that you could trample on the poor man's face but you mustn't be surprised if he bit you in the leg while you were doing it. Apparently this is what has happened to the old dad. I had a sort of idea all along that old friend Salvatore would come out strong in the end if you only gave him time. Brainy sort of feller! Great pal of mine."
