A week later, only a week, Mr. Onions Winter wrote asking Henry to call upon him without delay, and Henry called. The establishment of Mr. Onions Winter was in Leicester Square, between the Ottoman Music Hall and a milliner's shop. Architecturally it presented rather a peculiar appearance. The leading feature of the ground-floor was a vast arch, extending across the entire frontage in something more than a semicircle. Projecting from the keystone of the arch was a wrought-iron sign bearing a portrait in copper, and under the portrait the words 'Ye Shakspere Head.' Away beneath the arch was concealed the shop-window, an affair of small square panes, and in the middle of every small pane was stuck a small card, 'The Satin Library--Onions Winter.' This mystic phrase was repeated a hundred and sixty-five times. To the right of the window was a low green door with a copper handle in the shape of a sow's tail, and the legend 'Ye Office of Onions Winter.' 'Is Mr. Winter in?' Henry demanded of a young man in a very high collar, after he had mastered the mechanism of the sow's tail. 'Yes, he's _in_,' said the young man rudely, as Henry thought. (How different from Goldenhair was this high collar!) 'Do you want to see him?' asked the young man, when he had hummed an air and stared out of the window. 'No,' said Henry placidly. 'But he wants to see me. My name is Knight.' Henry had these flashes of brilliance from time to time. They came of themselves, as _Love in Babylon_ came. He felt that he was beginning better with Mr. Onions Winter than he had begun with Mr. Mark Snyder. In another moment he was seated opposite Mr. Winter in a charming but littered apartment on the first-floor. He came to the conclusion that all literary offices must be drawing-rooms. 'And so you are the author of _Love in Babylon_?' began Mr. Winter. He was a tall man, with burning eyes, grey hair, a grey beard which stuck out like the sun's rays, but no moustache. The naked grey upper lip was very deep, and somehow gave him a formidable appearance. He wore a silk hat at the back of his head, and a Melton overcoat rather like Henry's own, but much longer. 'You like it?' said Henry boldly. 'I think---- The fact is, I will be frank with you, Mr. Knight.' Here Mr. Onions Winter picked up _Love in Babylon_, which lay before him, and sniffed at it exactly as Mr. Snyder had done. 'The fact is, I shouldn't have thought twice about it if it hadn't been for this peculiar odour----' Here Henry explained the odour.