d Mr. Slosson.

"Or to do?"

"Or to do."

"Well, Mr. Slosson," said Edward Henry, "your junior partner has
already outlined your policy of masterly inactivity. So I may as well
go. I did say I'd go to my solicitors. But it's occurred to me that as
I'm a principal I may as well first of all see the principals on the
other side. I only came here because it mentions in the option that
the matter is to be completed here--that's all."

"You a principal!" exclaimed Mr. Slosson. "It seems to me you're a
long way removed from a principal. The alleged option is given to a
Miss Rose Euclid--"

"Excuse me--_the_ Miss Rose Euclid."

"Miss Rose Euclid. She divides up her alleged interest into fractions,
and sells them here and there, and you buy them up one after another."
Mr. Slosson laughed, not unamiably. "You're a principal about five
times removed."

"Well," said Edward Henry, "whatever I am, I have a sort of idea I'll
go and see this Mr. Gristle or Wrissell. Can you--"

The man at the distant desk turned his head. Mr. Slosson coughed. The
man rose.

"This is Mr. Wrissel," said Mr. Slosson, with a gesture from which
confusion was not absent.

"Good morning," said the advancing Mr. Rollo Wrissell, and he said it
with an accent more Kensingtonian than any accent that Edward Henry
had ever heard. His lounging and yet elegant walk assorted well with
the accent. His black clothes were loose and untidy. Such boots as
his could not have been worn by Edward Henry even in the Five Towns
without blushing shame, and his necktie looked as if a baby or a
puppy had been playing with it. Nevertheless, these shortcomings made
absolutely no difference whatever to the impressivness of Mr. Rollo
Wrissell, who was famous for having said once, "I put on whatever
comes to hand first, and people don't seem to mind."

Mr. Rollo Wrissell belonged to one of the seven great families which
once governed--and by the way still do govern--England, Scotland
and Ireland. The members of these families may be divided into two
species: those who rule, and those who are too lofty in spirit even
to rule--those who exist. Mr. Rollo Wrissell belonged to the latter
species. His nose and mouth had the exquisite refinement of the
descendant of generations of art-collectors and poet-patronizers. He
enjoyed life--but not with rude activity, like the grosser members of
the ruling caste--rather with a certain rare languor. He sniffed and
savoured the whole s