"Come, Forde, reckon up your respectable acquaintances, and tell us the name of the blackest sheep you know amongst the accountant tribe," suggested Mr. Werner. "Your experience has been large enough, Heaven knows." "Will you stop jeering or not?" asked Mr. Forde. "Considering Mr. Mortomley is your bosom friend, I think the way you talk of this matter scarcely decent." "Nay," answered Mr. Werner. "Mortomley has been your bosom friend it seems to me. Certainly, had he asked my advice a few years ago, we four would not have had the arrangement of his destiny to-day. And as for bosom friends," he added in a lower tone, "a businessman has none, and no friends either for that matter. Such luxuries are not for us." "Do, for heaven's sake, let us keep to the matter in hand," exclaimed Mr. Benning. "Will you name an accountant or shall I?" The manager looked at Mr. Kleinwort, and then once again the German led his, so good friend, out of the room. Mr. Benning watched the pair till the door closed behind them, and then turning to Mr. Werner, said, "Will you allow me to ask you one question? How does it happen so astute a man as you has anything to do with St. Vedast Wharf?" "Trade, like poverty, makes one acquainted with strange bedfellows," was the reply. "That is very true; but why are you mixing yourself up with this man Mortomley?" Mr. Werner paused a moment before he answered, and a dull red streak appeared on each side his face, while he hesitated about his answer. Then he looked his interlocutor straight in the eyes and said, "Because I want to keep Forde at St. Vedast Wharf for another twelvemonth." Mr. Benning, between his teeth, gave vent to a low but most unlawyer-like whistle. "That's it, is it," he commented. "That is it," agreed Mr. Werner. "And Kleinwort ditto?" said the lawyer, inquiringly. "So far as I know," was the reply. Then observed Mr. Benning, "I am infinitely obliged by your frankness. I could not see my way before, but I think I can discern daylight now." "It must be through a very dark tunnel then," remarked Mr. Werner bitterly. "We must keep Mortomley's business moving." "That is what Kleinwort says, but I confess I do not see how it is to be done." "Where there is a will there is always a way," was the calm rejoinder. "Well, gentlemen," he added, as Mr. Kleinwort returned leading his friend with him. "Have you found a suitable man; because if not, I must." "Yes, yes," answered Kleinwort irritably, for he and Mr. Forde had been arguing a little hotly over the trustee question. "Do you happen to know one very good man, one true dear Christian who makes long prayers, and has snow hair hanging loose, and wears a white neckhandkerchief so pure and faultless--" "What is his name?" interrupted Mr. Benning. "Asherill," answered Mr. Forde.