of splashing to tell the listener how he was engaged.
He polished his face with the towel, and, consulting the mirror again,
thought he looked a little better.

Then he re-entered his business room, and turning the key in the lock
opened the door slightly, a mere inch or two.

'Who is it?'

'A Mr. Brown, sir,' said the smooth voice outside. The clerk insinuated
a card through the space between the door and door-jamb, and Mr.
Bommaney took it from his fingers without revealing himself. He had
some difficulty in making out its inscription, for his eyes were newly
tearful, and, whilst he peered at it, a reflex of his late emotions
brought a sniffling sob again. He was freshly ashamed at this, and said
hastily,

'Five minutes' time. I will ring when I am ready. Ask the gentleman to
wait.'

Mr. James Hornett softly closed the door, and stood on the landing with
long lean fingers scraping at his lantern jaws. He was a little man,
short of stature, and sparely built. His skin was vealy in complexion,
and he had wiry hair of a russet-red. Even when he was clean shaven his
fingers rasped upon his hollow cheeks with a faint sound. His nose and
chin were long and pointed, and his manner was meek and self-effacing
even when he was alone. There was a tinge of wonder in his face, at war
with an habitual smile, in which his eyes had no part.

'Something wrong?' he said, under his breath. He went creeping softly
down the stairs. 'Something wrong? Mr. Bommaney in tears? Mr. Bommaney!'

Could anything have happened to Mr. Phil? That was the only thing Mr.
Hornett could think of as being likely to affect his employer in that
way.

Now Mr. Hornett had been in his present employ for thirty years, man
and boy, and he was human. Therefore, when at the expiration of a
little more than five minutes' time Mr. Bommaney's bell rang, he himself
ushered the visitor upstairs, and in place of retiring to his own pew
below stairs, lingered in a desert little apartment rarely used, and
then stole out upon the landing and listened. He was the more prompted
to this because the visitor, who had a bucolic hearty aspect, and was
very talkative, had told him downstairs that Mr. Bommaney and himself
were old friends and schoolfellows, and had been in each other's
confidence for years.

'I am afraid, sir,' Mr. Hornett had said, when the visitor first
presented himself, 'that Mr. Bommaney may not be able to see you at
present. He gave orders not to b