"I'm going to smoke," Jenkins said; "be blowed to Bertie dear." (Mrs. Smythe had once addressed her husband in the office as "Bertie dear," and thenceforth that had been his name among the staff.) Richard made no answer. When a minute later Jenkins, discreetly directing his puffs to the open window, asked him for the titles of one or two of Zola's novels in English, and their price, he gave the required information without turning round and in a preoccupied tone. It was his wish at that moment to appear dreamy. Perhaps a hint of the intellectual difference between them would suggest itself even to Jenkins. Suddenly a voice that seemed to be Mr. Smythe's came from the other side of the glass partition which separated the room from the general corridor. "Jenkins, what the devil do you mean by smoking in the office?" The pipe vanished instantly, and Jenkins faced his accuser in some confusion, only to find that he had been victimised. It was Mr. Aked. "You're as gassy as ever, I see," Jenkins said with a shade of annoyance. Mr. Aked laughed, and then began to cough badly, bending forward with flushed cheeks. "Surely you shouldn't have left the house to-day," Richard said, alarmed. "Why not?" The retort was almost fierce. "You're not fit." "Fiddlesticks! I've only got a bit of a cough." Richard wondered what he had called for. Jenkins began to discuss with him the shortcomings of Mr. Smythe as an employer, and when that fruitful subject had been exhausted there was a silence. "Coming home?" Mr. Aked asked Richard, who at once prepared to leave. "By the way, Larch, how's the mash?" Jenkins wore his archest manner. "What mash?" "Why, the girl you said you were going to see yesterday afternoon." "I never said--" Richard began, looking nervously towards Mr. Aked. "Oh, no, of course not. Do you know, Mr. Aked, he's begun his little games with the women. These fellows from the country--so shy and all that--they're regular cautions when you come to know them." But Mr. Aked made no response. "I was thinking you might as well come down to-morrow night instead of Friday," he said quietly to Richard, who had busied himself with the locking of a safe. "To-morrow? Certainly, I shall be very glad," Richard answered. Evidently Mr. Aked was as eager as himself to make a beginning of the book. No doubt that was why he had called. Surely, together they would accomplish something notable! Jenkins had climbed on a lofty stool. He gave vent to a whistle, and the other two observed that his features were twisted into an expression of delirious mirth. "Aha! aha!" he grinned, looking at Richard. "I begin to perceive. You're after the pretty niece, eh, Master Larch? And a nice plump little thing she is, too! She came here once to fetch uncle home." Mr. Aked sprang instantly forward and cuffed Jenkins' ear.