Half an hour later he concluded an interview with Mr. Albert Mould, broker's man,--late James, the butler,--in the dingy dining-room downstairs. The latter gentleman, the more gorgeous items of his apparel now replaced by garments of equal social standing with his boots and trousers, was laboriously writing a receipt with Hughie's fountain-pen, following the movements of the nib with the end of a protruding tongue. Presently he finished. "There you are, sir," he said, breathing heavily upon the paper to dry the ink. "Twenty-seven, fifteen, eight--and thank you! What beats me," he added reflectively, "is 'ow you spotted me. What was it give me away? Seems to me I _looked_ all right. I was wearin' the young feller's evenin' coat and one of 'is shirts, and I thought I was lookin' a treat all the time. Was it me trousis?" To avoid wounding his guest's feelings, Hughie agreed that it _was_ his trousis. "It's a queer trade, this of yours," he said. "You got to earn a livin' some'ow," said Mr. Mould apologetically, "same as any other yewman bean. It's not a bad job, as jobs go. They carry on a lot, o' course, when you're first put in, and usually the wife cries; but they soon finds out as you won't do 'em no 'arm. You makes your inventory and settles down in the kitching, with a pint o' somethink in your 'and an' a pipe in your face, and in less than 'alf a tick you're one o' the family, a'most. Why, I've 'elped wash the baby afore now." "Don't you ever get thrown out?" asked Hughie. "I _'ave_ bin," replied Mr. Mould, in a tone which gently reproved the tactlessness of the question, "but not often. After all, I only come _in_ agin; and it's a matter of seven days for assault, p'raps, on top o' the distraint. Most of 'em 'as the sense to remember that, so they humours me, as it were. They speak me fair, and give me jobs to do about the house. Still, it were a bit of a surprise when 'er ladyship comes 'ome to-day about two o'clock and asks me would 'arf-a-crown be any good to me, and, if so, would I mind playin' at bein' a butler for a hour or two. I felt a fool, like, dressed up that way, but I always was one to oblige a bit o' skirt. Been weak with women," he added autobiographically, "from a boy. This fer me?" as Hughie opened the street-door and sped the parting guest in a particularly acceptable manner. "Thank you, Captain! _Good_ day!" He shuffled down the steps and along the street, obviously on his way to liquidate Hughie's half-crown, and the donor of that gratuity returned to the dining-room, where he took Mr. Mould's laboriously indited receipt from the table. Then he went upstairs, feeling desperately sorry for Mr. and Mrs. Lance. He had done what he could for them, in his eminently practical fashion, and set them on their feet again; but--for how long? Debts! Millstones! Poor things! On the landing above he encountered Mrs. Gaymer, wide-eyed and incredulous.