A shabby, wizened-faced man; bent-in-the-back, gimlet-eyed, wearing a musty brown coat, soiled black stock, unspeakable linen, and skin-tight trousers held to his rusty shoes by wide straps--showing not only the knuckles of his knees but the streaked thinness of his upper shanks--(Cruikshank could have drawn him to the life)--sidled into the room, mopping his head with a red cotton handkerchief which he took from his hat. “My name is GADgem, gentleman--Mr. John GADgem of GADgem & Combes. “I am looking for Mr. Harry Rutter, whom I am informed--I would not say POSitively--but I am inFORMED is stopping with you, Mr. Temple. You forget me, Mr. Temple, but I do not forget you, sir. That little foreclosure matter of Bucks vs. Temple--you remember when--” “Sit down,” said St. George curtly, laying down his knife and fork. “Todd, hand Mr. Gadgem a chair.” The gimlet-eyed man--and it was very active--waved his hand deprecatingly. “No, I don't think that is necessary. I can stand. I preFER to stand. I am acCUStomed to stand--I have been standing outside this gentleman's father's door now, off and on, for some weeks, and--” “Will you tell me what you want?” interrupted Harry, curtly. References to Moorlands invariably roused his ire. “I am coming to that, sir, slowly, but surely. Now that I have found somebody that will listen to me--that is, if you are Mr. Harry Rutter--” The deferential air with which he said this was admirable. “Oh, yes--I'm the man,” answered Harry in a resigned voice. “Yes, sir--so I supposed. And now I look at you, sir”--here the gimlet was in full twist--“I would make an affidavit to that effect before any notary.” He began loosening his coat with his skinny fingers, fumbling in his inside pocket, thrusting deep his hand, as if searching for an elusive insect in the vicinity of his arm-pit, his talk continuing: “Yes, sir, before any notary, you are so exactly like your father. Not that I've seen your father, sir, VERY MANY TIMES”--the elusive had evidently escaped, for his hand went deeper. “I've only seen him once--ONCE--and it was enough. It was not a pleasant visit, sir--in fact, it was a most UNpleasant visit. I came very near having cause for action--for assault, really. A very polite colored man was all that prevented it, and--Ah--here it is!” He had the minute pest now. “Permit me to separate the list from the exhibits.” At this Gadgem's hand, clutching a bundle of papers, came out with a jerk--so much of a jerk that St. George, who was about to end the comedy by ordering the man from the room, stopped short in his protest, his curiosity getting the better of him to know what the fellow had found. “There, sir.” Here he drew a long slip from the package, held it between his thumb and forefinger, and was about to continue, when St. George burst out with: “Look here, Gadgem--if you have any business with Mr. Rutter you will please state it at once. We have hardly finished breakfast.”