"Don't worry," the poet advised. "By the by, you don't happen to know of a rhyme for silken, do you?" The telephone bell, ringing once more, intervened to save the poet from the ink-pot which Aaron's fingers were handling longingly. "What is it?" he demanded, taking up the receiver. "Just a little message for Mr. Aaron Rodd, please," was the soft reply. "Please forgive me--it was so necessary. And the pin was for you--a little peace-offering. Will you please have the chain mended and wear it?" That was all. There was no pause for any reply. The connection was finished. Aaron laid down the receiver, lit a cigarette and almost swaggered back to his desk. "Sorry, old fellow," he said genially. "I can't seem to think of one for the moment. I'll have a try." _Chapter IV_ _Ulysses of Wapping_ On the following morning, Aaron Rodd, somewhat to his surprise, received a visit from his only client. Mr. Jacob Potts, who was a publican and retired pugilist, and whose appearance entirely coincided with his dual profession, looked around the apartment with a little sniff. "Ho!" he exclaimed. "Better times arrived, eh? 'Ad a spring-cleaning, 'aven't you? Telephone, too, and new chairs! Golly! Does it run to cigars?" Aaron Rodd shamelessly offered him a box of Harvey Grimm's Cabanas. His client bit off the end of one with relish and seemed inclined to swallow it. He eventually spat it out, however, lit the cigar, and, throwing himself back in a chair, crossed his rather pudgy legs. "Know anything about maritime law?" he began. "Not much," Aaron Rodd admitted. "A lawyer very seldom knows anything outside his little bent," he went on. "We have great rows of books properly indexed, turn up the point and read the decisions." "Where are your'n?" Mr. Jacob Potts enquired, looking around the somewhat bare walls. "Pawned," Aaron Rodd confessed. "All the same, I can go into the law library and give you an answer on any point you like to put forward, within a very few minutes." Mr. Potts nodded. "That's why I kind of took a fancy to you years ago, when you was a nipper," he confessed. "No doubling and twisting about you. Just a straightforward answer to a straightforward question. 'Do you know anything about maritime law?' sez I. 'No,' sez you, 'but I can find out.' And so you can. Now, one of the regular kidney of you fellows'd have been messing about for half an hour and then have read it all out of a book. You never tumbled to it yet, guv'nor, did you, what my new line of business was?" "Never," Aaron Rodd acknowledged. "From your conversation at various times I gathered that you saved money in the ring, acquired a prosperous public-house property, and were in some way or other responsible for the organisation of labour in your neighbourhood." Mr. Jacob Potts grinned.