The ceremonies of leave-taking were done with and dismissed; so far as he could, he had avoided them. He had ever been a hard man and knew well enough that the clerks disliked him. He hated humbug. He had come to India, almost forty years ago, not to make friends, but to make a fortune. And now the fortune was made, and the room behind him stood ready, spick and span, for the Scotsman who would take his chair to-morrow. Drawers had been emptied and dusted, loose papers and memoranda sorted and either burnt or arranged and docketed, ledgers entered up to the last item in his firm handwriting, and finally closed. The history of his manhood lay shut between their covers, written in figures terser than a Roman classic: his grand _coup_ in Nunsasee goods, Abdul Guffere's debt commuted for 500,000 rupees, the salvage of the _Ramillies_ wreck, his commercial duel with Viltul Parrak . . . And the record had no loose ends. He owed no man a farthing. The door behind him opened softly and a small gray-headed man peered into the room. "Mr. Annesley, if I might take the liberty--" "Ah, MacNab?" Samuel Annesley swung round promptly. "I trust, sir, I do not intrude?" "'Intrude,' man? Why?" "Oh, nothing, sir," answered the little man vaguely, with a dubious glance at Mr. Annesley's eyes. "Only I thought perhaps--at such a moment--old scenes, old associations--and you leaving us for ever, sir!" "Tut, nonsense! You have something to say to me. Anything forgotten?" "Nothing in the way of business, sir. But it occurred to me--" Mr. MacNab lowered his voice, "--Your good lady, up at the burial-ground. You will excuse me--at such a time: but it may be years before I am spared to return home, and if I can do anything in the way of looking after the grave, I shall be proud. Oh no--" he went on hurriedly with a flushed face: "for _love_, sir; for love, of course: or, as I should rather say, for old sake's sake, if that's not too bold. It would be a privilege, Mr. Annesley." Samuel Annesley stood considering his late confidential clerk with bent brows. "I am much obliged to you, MacNab; but in this matter you must do as you please. You are right in supposing that I was sincerely attached to my wife--" "Indeed yes, sir." "But I have none of the sentiment you give me credit for. 'Let the dead bury the dead'--that is a text to which I have given some attention of late, and I hope to profit by it in--in the future." "Well, God bless you, Mr. Annesley!" "I thank you. We are delaying the boat, I fear. No"--as Mr. MacNab made an offer to accompany him--"I prefer to go alone. We have shaken hands already. The room is ready for Mr. Menzies, when he comes to-morrow. Good-bye."