"Look here, Robert," said Yeldham, laying his hand heavily on his friend's shoulder; "this won't do at all. You're all unstrung and out of health. Get you home--if you're not absolutely wanted in the City--and rest a bit; you need it, heaven knows. Leave this business to me--you know I'm a capital ferret--and I'll take it in hand at once, and you shall see me to-morrow with my report." Robert Streightley wrung his friend's hand, and very shortly left the chambers; but Charley Yeldham remained for more than an hour with his chin buried in his hands, and his mind full of all he had heard. At length he put on his hat, and walked into Fleet Street, where, close by the top of Middle Temple Lane, he encountered Mr. Daniel Thacker. It is scarcely necessary to say that, though they were acquainted, there was very little friendship between Mr. Yeldham and Mr. Thacker. The Hebrew gentleman regarded the lawyer as a plodding snob; the conveyancing barrister regarded the West-end money-lender as an unscrupulous scoundrel; but they had met and been introduced, and were in the habit of stopping to exchange verbal civilities; and they did so on this occasion. After the first compliments had passed, Mr. Thacker expressed his regret at not seeing more of Mr. Yeldham in society, but added that he perfectly well understood how it was; there must be bees as well as drones--and Mr. Yeldham had the credit of being one of the most hardworking as well as one of the most deservedly successful bees in the legal hive. Mr. Yeldham--in his coldly formal politeness one could scarcely have recognised the warm-hearted Charley, Robert Streightley's friend--Mr. Yeldham was compelled to leave society to those who adorned it, like Mr. Thacker; and, "talking of society," said Mr. Yeldham, "this is very sad news about our poor friend Mr. Guyon." "Sad enough for me," said Mr. Thacker with charming frankness. "Mr. Guyon was a client of mine; a client for whom I--like a soft fool as I was--however, that's neither here nor there--I shall have to stand the racket in that quarter, and be a considerable loser, I can tell you." Mr. Yeldham expressed his concern, and attempted to terminate the interview; but Mr. Thacker caught him by the lapel of his coat. "And talking of that," said he, "this is a pretty business in Portland Place!" In Portland Place? You would have gathered from the expression of Mr. Yeldham's face that it was the first time he had ever heard of that locality. "Yes, yes; you know what I mean," said Mr. Thacker impatiently; "Guyon's son-in-law--Streightley, the City man." "Streightley, the City man?" repeated Yeldham; "ah, of course, dreadfully cut up at the sudden death." "Dreadfully cut up at the sudden death! I hope that's the only way in which he'll be cut up dreadfully. Haven't you heard the news?" By a shoulder-shrug which would have done credit to Frederic Lemaitre, Mr. Yeldham intimated his ignorance.