"They are," he admitted. "A pathetic-looking trio! ... And, now, my dear Aaron," he went on, "we will discuss your little adventure in the Embankment Gardens this morning. You perceive that the moment is appropriate." "My little adventure?" Aaron Rodd repeated blankly. "Why--you mean to say you were there, then? You saw her speak to me?" "Certainly! I was seated a little further down, talking with my friend Mr. Brodie. We had our eyes upon the young lady." Aaron Rodd felt a sudden disinclination to speak of that little gleam of sunshine. "She spoke to me quite casually," he declared. "Afterwards she asked me my profession. I told her that I was a lawyer. Perhaps she had already guessed it. I suppose I do rather look the part." "You do indeed, my friend! And then?" The younger man hesitated. His partner's benevolent face suddenly assumed a sterner aspect. "Aaron," he reminded him, "we are on business. The truth, please--no reservations." "She asked me," the other went on, "whether the confidence of a client is always respected by one in my profession." "And your reply?" "I assured her, of course, that under any circumstances it was." Harvey Grimm leaned back in his chair. He rolled the remaining drop of brandy around in his glass, his expression was beatific. "My dear Aaron," he said, "fate smiles upon our new partnership. The young lady is going to pay you a visit?" "At three o'clock this afternoon, if she keeps her word." "Finish your brandy and come with me to my apartment," Harvey Grimm directed. "We have matters to discuss and arrange before you receive that visit." * * * * * An hour or so later, Aaron Rodd was seated once more before his dilapidated, ink-stained desk. The gloom of the winter afternoon was only partly dissipated by the single gas-jet burning above his head. The same old lease was spread out underneath his hands. In his face, however, there was a distinct change. The listlessness had gone. He had the air of one awaiting events. So he had sat for the last half-hour, with his eyes fixed alternately upon the outside door, purposely left ajar, and the inner one which led to his humble bed-sitting-room. There came at last the sound for which he had been waiting. Up that last flight of stone stairs he could hear distinctly the slow movement of weary footsteps, the continual tapping of a stick, the occasional cough and querulous complaint of a tired old man, and by the side of those shuffling footsteps, others, marvellously light, the swish of a silken skirt, the music of a clear, very sweet young voice. "You see, we are arrived," she was saying. "There is the name upon the door. You will be able to sit down directly. Courage, dear grandfather. Remember it is for Leopold's sake."