But Mr. Taylor's remarks had no ulterior meaning. Being a shrewd man, he could not fail to suspect that Lord Hartledon was in a scrape of some sort; but from a word dropped by his master he supposed it to involve nothing more than a question of debt; and he never suspected that the word had been dropped purposely. "Scamps would claim money twice over when they could," said Mr. Carr; and Elster was a careless man, always losing his receipts. He was a short, slight man, this clerk--in build something like his master--with an intelligent, silent face, a small, sharp nose, and fair hair. He had been born a gentleman, he was wont to say; and indeed he looked one; but he had not received an education commensurate with that fact, and had to make his own way in the world. He might do it yet, perhaps, he remarked one day to Lord Hartledon; and certainly, if steady perseverance could effect it, he would: all his spare time was spent in study. "He has not gone to one of those blessed consultations in somebody's chambers, has he?" cried Val. "I have known them last three hours." "I have known them last longer than that," said the clerk equably. "But there are none on just now." "I can't think what has become of him. He made an appointment with me for this morning. And where's his _Times_?" Mr. Taylor could not tell where; he had been looking for the newspaper on his own account. It was not to be found; and they could only come to the conclusion that the barrister had taken it out with him. "I wish you'd go out and buy me one," said Val. "I'll go with pleasure, my lord. But suppose any one comes to the door?" "Oh, I'll answer it. They'll think Carr has taken on a new clerk." Mr. Taylor laughed, and went out. Hartledon, tired of sitting, began to pace the room and the ante-room. Most men would have taken their departure; but he had nothing to do; he had latterly shunned that portion of the world called society; and was as well in Mr. Carr's chambers as in his own lodgings, or in strolling about with his troubled heart. While thus occupied, there came a soft tap to the outer door--as was sure to be the case, the clerk being absent--and Val opened it. A middle-aged, quiet-looking man stood there, who had nothing specially noticeable in his appearance, except a pair of deep-set dark eyes, under bushy eyebrows that were turning grey. "Mr. Carr within?" "Mr. Carr's not in," replied the temporary clerk. "I dare say you can wait." "Likely to be long?" "I should think not. I have been waiting for him these two hours." The applicant entered, and sat down in the clerk's room. Lord Hartledon went into the other, and stood drumming on the window-pane, as he gazed out upon the Temple garden. "I'd go, but for that note of Carr's," he said to himself. "If--Halloa! that's his voice at last." Mr. Carr and his clerk had returned together. The former, after a few moments, came in to Lord Hartledon.