atch it.

Sabre, coming into his office on the day reporting the affray in Dublin,
was made to experience this.

In the town, on his arrival, he purchased several of the London
newspapers to read other accounts and other views of the gun-running and
its sensational sequel. His intention was to read them the moment he got
to his room. He put them on a chair while he hung up his straw hat and
filled a pipe.

They remained there unopened till the charwoman removed them in the
evening. On his desk, as he glanced towards it, was a letter from Nona.

He turned it over in his hands--the small neat script. She never before
had written to him at the office. It bore the London postmark. She would
be writing from their town house. It would be to say she was coming
back.... But she never wrote on the occasions of her return; they just
met.... And she had never before written to the office.

Mr. Fortune appeared at the communicating door. Sabre put the letter
into his pocket and turned towards him.

Mr. Fortune came into the room. With him was a young man, a youth, whose
face was vaguely familiar to Sabre; Twyning behind.

"Ah, Sabre," said Mr. Fortune. "Good morning, Sabre. This is rather a
larger number of visitors than you would commonly expect, but we are a
larger staff this morning than we have heretofore been. I am bringing in
to you a new member of our staff." He indicated the young man beside
him. "A new member but bearing an old name. A chip of the old block--the
old Twyning block." He smiled, stroking his whale-like front rather as
though this pleasantry had proceeded from its depths and he was
congratulating it. The young man smiled. Twyning, edging forward from
the background, also smiled. All the smiles were rather nervous. This
was natural in the new member of the staff but in Twyning and Mr.
Fortune gave Sabre the feeling that for some reason they were not
entirely at ease. His immediate thought had been that it was an odd
thing to have taken on young Twyning without mentioning it even casually
to him. It was significant of his estrangement in the office; but their
self-conscious manner was even more significant: it suggested that he
had been kept out of the plan deliberately.

He gave the young man his hand. "Why, that's very nice," he said. "I
thought I knew your face. I think I've seen you with your father. You've
been in Blade and Parson's place, haven't you?"

Young Twyning replied that he had. He had h