“Thought it was Spanswick,” said Erb. “Most inscrutable, the workings of Providence. Stagger even me at times.” “You don’t mean that?” said Erb. “Positive truth!” declared Mr. Doubleday. “Now this meeting with you, for instance. If it had been planned it couldn’t have happened more fortunately. Because I have information to give you of the very highest possible value. It means, my dear sir, an absolute epoch-making event in your life, and— Ah! roast beef and Yorkshire pudding! Reminds me of my young days. I recollect when I was a bit of a boy—” Mr. Doubleday, with heavy jest and leaden-footed reminiscence, took the duty of conversation upon himself, evidently feeling that he was a bright, diverting companion, one who just for his exceptional powers as a _raconteur_ well deserved to be asked out to dine. His stories were so long, and the telling of them so complicated, that Erb was able to allow his mind to concentrate itself on his own affairs. He had taken a definite, a desperate step; the reaction was setting in, and he began to wonder whether he had been precisely right. Something to feel that whatever he did, right or wrong, he had the solid, obstinate, unreasoning support of the men; one could, of course, count upon this; the greater the misfortune he encountered, the more faithful and obedient would they become. There could be no doubt about that. Besides, they had no one else to guide them. He was, as they had admitted, the one, the necessary man. Any signs of rebellion in the past he had always been able to quell with very little trouble; as a last resource, there was always the threat of resignation. So _that_ was satisfactory enough. Less grateful to remember that the revenge he had tried to take on the Neckinger Road firm had done his sister’s health no good whatever. He would run down to Worthing soon to see her and to cheer her. “Joking apart,” said Mr. Doubleday, snapping his finger and thumb to secure the attention of the waitress, “let’s come to business. (Cabinet pudding, my dear! I daresay my genial host will take the same.) You must understand, please, that what I am about to submit to you is, as we say in the law, entirely without prejudice.” “Are you a lawyer?” “I used to be in a secondhand bookseller’s. Now, I suppose I’m right in assuming that you could, if necessary, place your hands on a certain sum of money?” “I could.” “About how much shall we say?” asked Mr. Doubleday engagingly. Erb counted the money in his pocket. “Twelve shillings and ninepence.” “I appreciate the humour of that remark,” said Mr. Doubleday in his husky voice, “but I want to talk business. I’m a plain, straightforward man, and what I want to know is simply this. Is there a five-pound note flying about?” “If there was,” said Erb, “I should catch it.”