he said, and rang the
bell beside a door. As he hurried away, "Good luck!" he called back.

There was a short interval, and then the door was opened by a man
who looked like a Hindu. He wore correct morning dress and through
gold-rimmed pince-nez he stared inquiringly at the caller.

"Is his excellency at home?" asked the latter. "I'm from Mr. Jarvis, the
bootmaker."

"Oh!" said the other, smiling slightly. "Come in. What is your name?"

"Parker, sir. From Mr. Jarvis."

As the door closed, Parker found himself in a small lobby. Beside
an umbrella rack a high-backed chair was placed. "Sit down," he was
directed. "I will tell his excellency that you are here."

A door was opened and closed again, and Parker found himself alone. He
twirled his bowler hat, which he held in his hand, and stared about
the place vacantly. Once he began to whistle, but checked himself and
coughed nervously. Finally the Hindu gentleman reappeared, beckoning to
him to enter.

Parker stood up very quickly and advanced, hat in hand.

Then he remembered the box which he had left on the floor, and, stooping
to recover it, he dropped his hat. But at last, leaving his hat upon the
chair and carrying the box under his arm, he entered a room which had
been converted into a very businesslike office.

There was a typewriter upon a table near the window at which someone had
evidently been at work quite recently, and upon a larger table in the
centre of the room were dispatch boxes, neat parcels of documents,
ledgers, works of reference, and all the evidence of keen commercial
activity. Crossing the room, the Hindu rapped upon an inner door, opened
it, and standing aside, "The man from the bootmaker," he said in a low
voice.

Parker advanced, peering about him as one unfamiliar with his
surroundings. As he crossed the threshold the door was closed behind
him, and he found himself in a superheated atmosphere heavy with the
perfume of hyacinths.

The place was furnished as a sitting room, but some of its appointments
were obviously importations. Its keynote was orientalism, not of that
sensuous yet grossly masculine character which surrounds the wealthy
Eastern esthete but quite markedly feminine. There were an extraordinary
number of cushions, and many bowls and vases containing hyacinths. What
other strange appointments were present Parker was far too nervous to
observe.

He stood dumbly before a man who lolled back in a deep, cushioned chair