"No, sir, I have not," was the reply. "I wrote a friendly letter to Mrs. Mortomley, and instead of coming to me herself she sends a lawyer. I will have nothing to do with you, sir. There is the door; be kind enough, as you came through it, to go out through it." "Certainly," agreed Mr. Leigh, "but--" "Leave the room, sir," roared Mr. Forde. "Will you go out of the premises peaceably, or must I put you out?" "Mr. Forde," remarked the lawyer, "you must be mad or drunk. In either case I can have no wish to remain in your company. Good morning." "Leave the room, sir," repeated Mr. Forde. He was one of those men who think some charm lies in shouting out a certain form of words so long as any one can be found to listen to it. "Good morning," said Mr. Leigh again in reply, and he left St. Vedast Wharf boiling over with rage. As he proceeded up the lane he met a man with whom he had some acquaintance--a man recently elected one of the directors of the General Chemical Company, Limited. "Why, Leigh," said this gentleman, "where are you coming from?" "I am coming from being ordered off your premises by your manager," replied Mr. Leigh, still white with passion. "My dear fellow, impossible--" "Not merely possible, but true," was the answer. "I have a client of the name of Mortomley, who, some years ago, became acquainted with your firm, and who has never done a day's good since. He is now in liquidation, and Mr. Forde wrote a note to Mrs. Mortomley, which I can show you if you are at all interested in so small an affair, wanting to see her. She did not want to see him, and so sent his communication on to me; but when I went to speak to him he flamed out on me as if I had been a pickpocket, ordered me off the premises, and behaved, as I told him, as if he were either mad or drunk." "Humph!" said the new director. Mr. Forde had within the previous half-hour dealt himself a worse card than had ever before lain in his hand. "If you want an apology, Leigh, the idiot shall send you one--but--" "Apology!" repeated the lawyer, "do you suppose I would accept one if the maniac sent it; but look to yourself, Agnew. There is something awfully rotten about your company, or I am much mistaken." "I quite agree with you," was the reply; and the pair parted company; but instead of entering St. Vedast Wharf, Mr. Agnew turned along a cross lane, and thought Mr. Forde over quietly and at his leisure. When he had thought him over he retraced his steps, and entered the offices, where Mr. Forde greeted him as though he had never spoken an insolent or unkind word to any one. "Fine morning, sir," he declared. It was a curious fact that the moment the Mortomleys left Homewood the rain ceased.