on the second bar of the gate and looked at him. “Zis, my goot friend, is Midfont House?”

“You’ve got it right, guv’nor.”

“So! Zen I ask, is Mr. Thomas Dorrell at home?”

“Nice day, guv’nor.”

“I zank you, yes, it is not bad. Mr. Thomas Dorrell——”

“No; my name’s Timothy Ball—T. B. on my collars.”

“I zank you. Mr. Thomas Dorrell——”

“This ’ere place belongs to Mr. John Greatorex, Esquire, J.P., and he ain’t at home, bein’ engaged in trying a bad case of stealin’ lamb and mint-sauce not a many miles from ’ere.”

“My goot friend, I do not mind; I like it. I come not to see Mr. Greatorex, I come to see Mr. Thomas Dorrell——”

“Now, look ’ere, guv’nor, we’ve had chaps ’ere before with cheap watches and dear books and thingummies of all sorts, and I tell you straight, we don’t encourage ’em; in fact, I’ve got strict orders from Mr. Greatorex, J.P., to set the dog on any such that won’t take no for an answer.”

“My goot friend, you mistake. Vizout doubt I carry, some days, books, editions de luxe, and vatches and ozer zinks, but to-day—no, no. Look, here is my carte——”

“And a rum-lookin’ ramshackle turn-out it is,” quoth Timothy, ignoring the piece of pasteboard and eyeing the vehicle disdainfully. “I wonder you ain’t ashamed to come out in a ‘at like that, togged up to the nines, quite a torf, and your pony as looks as if he ain’t had a currycomb on his hide for a month o’ Sundays.”

“Ah, you mistake me all ze time. Ze bony, he is not mine; I hire him to bring me to Midfont House. Here is my carte, my friend. Take it to Mr. Thomas Dorrell, viz gompliments. He do not know my name, so! But he know ze name of ze firma I rebresent, and he vill like to see me, I know zat, because he place large orders, vair large, viz our gompany; he is vat you call a gustomer, you understand.”

Timothy Ball looked doubtfully at the visitor, and at the card he offered to him.

“There’s customers, and rum customers,” he said.

“Rum!” interrupted the stranger. “If Mr. Dorrell like rum, we can subbly any quantity, in cask or bottle, at rock-bottom price.”

Timothy sniggered and rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Rum ain’t the word for it,” he said. “’Tis downright bloomin’ funny, that’s what it is. Well, guv’nor, hold hard a bit; I’ll just ’phone through to Mr. Dorrell and tell him you’re here. ’Ow do you say your name?”

“Schwab! Hildebrand Schwab, rebresentative of ze Schlagintwert Gombany of Düsseldorf.”

“Can’t say all that; telephone won’t stand it. Wait a bit while I try Swob.”

He rang up and put his ear to the receiver.

“Are you there? That you, Mr. Dorrell?... There’s a man here ... a man ... a gentleman to see you, name Swib ... Swob! So he said, sir.... Travels for rum, by what I can make out——”

“No! no!” cried Schwab; but Timothy glared him into silence.

“Said you wouldn’t know him, sir, but you’re a customer of his firm.... No, sir, not rum.... Can’t say it, sir.... Very well, sir (glancing at the card): S C H L A G I N T W.... You’ve got it, sir.... He didn’t say, sir.... Very well, sir.”

“Mr. Dorrell wants to know what you’ve come for.”

“Vill you be so kind as permit me to speak to him myself?”

“No; your trotter might run away.... Yes, sir, one minute.... Now, out with it, Mr. Swob; Mr. Dorrell’s busy.”

“Zen tell him I come from Düsseldorf on behalf of my firma to pay zeir respects and gompliments to zeir valued gustomer and to zay zat ve shall be alvays most pleased to subbly anyzink vatefer zat Mr. Dorrell vants in quickest possible tempo egzept our Number Six Photographic Sensitizer vich require fortnight notice——”

“Arf a mo!... Yes, sir, but there’s such a lot of it I can’t get hold of it all.... No, sir, not walk; the gentleman’s rather lame, sir; came in a pony cart.... Very well, sir.”

“Mr. Dorrell says he’ll be here in a few minutes if you’ll wait.”

“Vy certainly. I can get no train for two hour. I vait in ze house?”

“No, Mr. Dorrell ain’t in the house. He’ll come here. We always interview rum customers at the gate.”

“No, no, no; not rum, my friend; and Mr. Dorrell is ze gustomer. He buy of us; at least, he order; Mr. Greatorex pay.”

“Well, it don’t matter to you, I s’pose, so long as you get your money? Mr. Greatorex’s money is good enough for me, anyway. Paid for that topping cigar of yours, didn’t it?”

“I have not ze honour to know Mr. Greatorex; but I have here a price list of cigars, and if——”

“Here’s Mr. Dorrell.”

“Vere? I see him not.”

“Well, he’s big enough, though he ain’t as broad as he’s long: that gentleman in the blue clothes comin’ down the path.”

“Zat Mr. Dorrell! Vy—he is a boy! Himmel!”

“Rum, ain’t it? S’pose you never was a boy, Mr. Swob.”

A tall loose-limbed young fellow had come into the drive from a side path, and was walking with great strides towards the gate. He was bareheaded; his black hair tumbled over a brow unusually high and broad. No other feature was noticeable except his eyes, which were large, deep blue in colour, and shot with a strange glow. He was dressed in a loose suit of what appeared to be blue alpaca, which was plentifully bestained.

By this time Timothy had opened the gate and given admittance to the visitor. Tom Dorrell came up, held out his hand, and said in quick decisive tones—

“How d’you do, Mr.——?”

“Schwab, sir—Hildebrand Schwab, rebresentative of ze firma Schlagintwert, all orders punctually eggzecuted.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Very busy, you know; if you had given me notice——”

“Ach! I come on ze hop, sir.”

Tom smiled.

“Well, glad to see you, anyway. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Sir, zat is vat I ask you. You give orders, first class, for our Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six; but my firma zink you do not know, perhaps, zat zey do many ozer zinks beside Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six. Vy, zere is nozink vat ve do not do, nozink at all. Ve can supply anyzink—soft goots, musical boxes, hair oil——”

“I know, I know,” said Tom. “I have your price list.”

“But not ze new vun—revise and correck carte,” returned Schwab, pulling from his pocket a bulky volume in red paper cover. “Viz gompliments!”

“Thanks! Now, I am very busy——”

“Shust so! Business are business! Not for ze vorld vould I stand in ze light. Only bermit me shust vun vord. Ze orders you give for Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six, vy, zey are immense, colossal; and you pay on ze nail. My firma get no such orders novere, and zey are surprise, because Number Six is new zink; it is not long zat it is on ze market. Vy zen come so large orders from so little place? Zey zink zere are business to be done; zerefore am I here.”

“Well, you can’t expect the merits of the stuff to be known all at once.”

“Shust so. Zerefore I come! Schlagintwert say: ‘Mr. Dorrell use a great lot of P.S.P. No. 6; zerefore muss it be vair goot; go and see Mr. Dorrell; perhaps he be so kind to give testimonial—zat vill be goot business.’”

“Afraid I can’t do that. You see, I don’t use it in photography, and that is what you advertise it for.”

“But ve vill