“However,” he went on, still reading, “I have the satisfaction of knowing I have done my best for the lad. And so have you, Stelfox. And I may as well take this opportunity of telling you that you will start the New Year with new wages. No objection to another ten pounds a year, I suppose?” “Not the least, sir, and thank you,” replied Stelfox, moving aside from the door as somebody knocked at it from the outside. Then Mr. Graham-Shute put his head in. “Any admission?” said he, and he brought the rest of himself inside without waiting for an answer. “It’s d--d cold in these parts, Bradfield, and you keep your horses too fat. We’ve been a week on the road back from those d--d ruins. I’m frozen to death. There was only one comfort, and that was that my little Maudie’s jaw got too stiff to move. So we had a heavenly spell of silence on the way back.” He walked to the fire, and began slowly taking off his silk muffler, his gloves, and his overcoat in the cheery warmth. Stelfox had quietly withdrawn. “By-the-bye, Bradfield,” went on Mr. Graham-Shute, agitating his jaw violently, as if under the impression that in the Arctic atmosphere outside something had gone wrong with it, “you’ll never guess who we met down in the town just now, looking about for you.” John Bradfield’s back was turned to his cousin, who might otherwise have seen that the approaching communication was no surprise to him. He was expected to show curiosity, however, so he asked: “Well, who was it?” “Why, your old pal, Alfred Marrable, who went out to Australia with you over thirty years ago. He doesn’t seem to have done as well out there as you did, by the looks of him. I knew him in a moment, dark as it was, by that odd limp in his walk. So I stopped the carriage and spoke to him. It appears he has come down here on purpose to see you. So I put him on the road. We were full, or I would have given him a lift.” “Much obliged to you, I am sure,” said John Bradfield, rather more drily than he meant to do. Mr. Graham-Shute, who took an intelligent interest in his cousin’s affairs, stared at him in astonishment. “What, don’t you want to see him?” he asked. “I thought I was bringing you the best piece of news you’d had for a long day. For you’ve generally such a good memory for your old friends, and I know that you and Marrable were always great chums. Did you fall out, or what?” “No,” said John Bradfield, recovering himself. “But the longest memory is not eternal, and it’s seventeen years since I saw him last. I’ll do all I can for him, certainly, for the sake of auld lang syne.” The words were hardly out of his mouth when a footman knocked at the door, and informed his master that a person wished to see him, a person who gave the name of Marrable. “Oh, yes, I’ll go and see him myself,” said John Bradfield, who hoped that his cousin would, in the meantime, take himself off, and allow him to welcome his old friend Marrable _en tête-à-tête_.