So, it would seem from the artless confession of Miss Lambert, that Patience Hancock had only too much reason for her fears: the lilac silk necktie had not been bought for the edification of Bridgewater and the junior clerks.

That the correct James Hancock had fuddled himself with punch, told droll stories, and lent Mr Lambert twenty pounds, were facts so utterly at variance with the known character of that gentleman as to be unbelievable by the people who knew him well.

Not by people well acquainted with human nature, or the fact that a grain of good-fellowship in the human heart exhibits extraordinary and radium-like activity under certain [Pg 142]conditions: the conditions induced by punch and beauty and good-fellowship in others, for instance.

One morning, after the day upon which he had refused to assist Frank Leavesley to "make a fool of himself with a girl," James Hancock arrived at his office at the usual time, in the usual manner, and, nodding to Bridgewater as he had nodded to him every morning for the last thirty years, passed into the inner office and closed the door.

The closing of the door was a new departure; it had generally been left ajar as an indication that Bridgewater might come in whenever he chose, to receive instructions and to consult upon the morning letters.

The expression on Bridgewater's face when he heard the closing of the door was so extraordinarily funny, that one of the younger clerks, who caught a glimpse of it, hastily stuffed his handkerchief into his mouth and choked silently behind the lid of his desk.

Quarter of an hour passed, and then the door opened.

"Bridgewater!"

The old gentleman stuck his pen behind his ear and answered the summons.

[Pg 143]

James Hancock was seated at his desk. On it lay an envelope addressed in a lady's handwriting; he covered the envelope with a piece of blotting paper as Bridgewater entered.

"I'm going out this morning, Bridgewater, on some private business."

"Out this morning?" echoed Bridgewater in a tentative tone.

"Yes; I leave you in charge."

"But Purvis, Mr James, Purvis has an appointment with you at twelve."

"Oh, bother Purvis! Tell him to call to-morrow, his affair will wait; tell him the deed is not drawn and to come again to-morrow."

"How about Isaacs?"

"Solomon Isaacs?"

"Yes, Mr James."

"What time is he coming?"

"Half-past eleven."

"Tell him to come to-morrow."

"I'm afraid he won't. I'm——"

"If he won't," said Mr Hancock with some acerbity, "tell him to go to the devil. I don't want his business especially—let him find some one else. Now see here, about these letters."

He went into the morning letters, dictating[Pg 144] replies to the more important ones and leaving the rest to the discretion of his clerk.

"And, Bridgewater," said Mr Hancock, as the senior clerk turned to depart, "I am expecting a lady to call here at half-past ten or quarter to eleven: show her in, it's Miss Lambert."

"You have had no word from Mr Charles Bevan, sir, since he called the other day?"

"Not a word. He is a very hot-headed young man; he inherits the Bevan temper, the Bevan temper," reiterated James Hancock in a reflective tone, tapping his snuff-box and taking a leisurely pinch. "I remember his father John Bevan at Ipswich, during the election, threatening to horsewhip my father; then when he found he was in the wrong, or rather that his own rascally solicitor was in the wrong, he apologised very handsomely and came to us. The family affairs have been in our hands ever since, as you know, and, though I say it myself, they could not have been in better."

"May I ask, Mr James, how affairs are with the Lamberts?—a sweetly pretty young lady is Miss Lambert, and so nice spoken."

"The Lamberts' affairs seem very much involved; but you know, Bridgewater, I have[Pg 145] nothing to do with their affairs. I called to see Mr Lambert purely as a friend. It would be very unprofessional to call otherwise. D——n it!" suddenly broke out old Hancock, as if some one had pricked him with a pin, "a man is not always a business man. I'm getting on in life. I have money enough and to spare. I've done pretty much as I liked all my life, and I'll do so to the end; yes, and I'd break all the laws of professional etiquette one after the other to-morrow if I chose."

Bridgewater's amazed face was the only amazed part of his anatomy; he was used to these occasional petulant outbursts, and he looked on them with equanimity.

Hancock had been threatening to retire from business for the last ten years, to retire from business and buy a country place and breed horses. No one knew so well as Bridgewater the impossibility of this and the extent to which his master was bound up in his business—the business was his life.

He retired, mumbling something that sounded like an assent, and going to his desk put the letters in order.

Mr Hancock, left to himself, took a letter from his breast-pocket. It w............