r. I was in agony, for if he had exploded I do not know what
would have happened. Fortunately, at this moment the carriage stopped at
the door of a fine office. Without waiting for the footman Mr. Stephen
bundled out and vanished into the building--I suppose to laugh in
safety. Then I descended with the tin case; then, by command, followed
Woodden with the flower, and lastly came Sir Alexander.

"Stop here," he said to the coachman; "I shan't be long. Be so good as
to follow me, Mr. What's-your-name, and you, too, Gardener."

We followed, and found ourselves in a big room luxuriously furnished
in a heavy kind of way. Sir Alexander Somers, I should explain, was an
enormously opulent bullion-broker, whatever a bullion-broker may be. In
this room Mr. Stephen was already established; indeed, he was seated on
the window-sill swinging his leg.

"Now we are alone and comfortable," growled Sir Alexander with sarcastic
ferocity.

"As the boa-constrictor said to the rabbit in the cage," I remarked.

I did not mean to say it, but I had grown nervous, and the thought leapt
from my lips in words. Again Mr. Stephen began to swell. He turned his
face to the window as though to contemplate the wall beyond, but I
could see his shoulders shaking. A dim light of intelligence shone in
Woodden's pale eyes. About three minutes later the joke got home. He
gurgled something about boa-constrictors and rabbits and gave a short,
loud laugh. As for Sir Alexander, he merely said:

"I did not catch your remark, sir, would you be so good as to repeat
it?"

As I appeared unwilling to accept the invitation, he went on:

"Perhaps, then, you would repeat what you told me in that sale-room?"

"Why should I?" I asked. "I spoke quite clearly and you seemed to
understand."

"You are right," replied Sir Alexander; "to waste time is useless." He
wheeled round on Woodden, who was standing near the door still holding
the paper-wrapped plant in front of him. "Now, Blockhead," he shouted,
"tell me why you brought that thing."

Woodden made no answer, only rocked a little. Sir Alexander reiterated
his command. This time Woodden set the plant upon a table and replied:

"If you're aspeaking to me, sir, that baint my name, and what's more, if
you calls me so again, I'll punch your head, whoever you be," and very
deliberately he rolled up the sleeves on his brawny arms, a sight at
which I too began to swell with inward merriment.

"Look here, father," sa