n went out softly and slowly, and he walked under the hot burning
sun that stared down at Mangadone as though trying to stare it steadily
into flame. White, mosque-like houses ached in the heat, chalk-white
against the sky, and the flower-laden balconies, massed with
bougainvillaea, caught the stare and cracked wherever there was sap
enough left in the pillars and dry woodwork to respond to the fierce
heat of a break in the rains.

It was a long, hot walk to the bungalow where Joicey lived, over the
Banking House itself, and the vast compound was arid and bare from three
days of scorching drought. Coryndon's feet sounded gritting on the red,
hard drive that led to the cool of the porch. No one called at such an
hour; it was unheard of in Mangadone, where the day from two to five was
sacred from interruption.

A Chaprassie stopped him on the avenue, and a Bearer on the steps of the
house itself. There were subordinates awake and alive in the Bank, ready
to answer questions on any subject, but Coryndon held to his purpose. He
did not want to see any of the lesser satellites; his business was with
the Manager, and he said that he must see him, if the Manager was to be
seen, or even if he was not, as his business would not keep.

A young man with a smooth, affable manner appeared from within, and said
he would give any message that Coryndon had to leave with his principal,
but Coryndon shook his head and politely declined to explain himself or
his business, beyond the fact that it was private and important. The
young man shook his head doubtfully.

"It doesn't happen to be a very good hour. We never disturb Mr. Joicey
in the afternoons."

"May I send in my card?" asked Coryndon.

"Certainly, if you wish to do so."

Coryndon took a pencil out of his pocket, and, scribbling on the corner
of his card, enclosed it in an envelope, and waited in the dark hall,
where electric fans flew round like huge bats, the smooth-mannered young
man keeping him courteous company.

"Mr. Joicey rests at this time of day," he explained. "I hope you quite
understand the difficulty."

"I quite understand," replied Coryndon, "but I think he will see me."

There was a pause. The young man did not wish to contradict him, but he
felt that he knew the ways and hours of the Head of the Firm very much
better than a mere stranger arriving on foot just as the Bank was due to
close for the day. He wondered who Coryndon was, and what his very
pres