"Let there be no misunderstanding between us," he said. "I desire no gratitude from you and I deserve none. What I am doing I am doing for my own gratification--perhaps for my own ultimate advantage. That you are a gainer by it is purely a matter of chance. The whim might just as well have been the other way. I might have taken a fancy to have you turned out of the place and, if so, I would have done it. On the whole, it is I who should be grateful to you for not baulking me in my scheme and for letting me have my own way. So understand, please, after this explanation, that I shall look upon any expression of gratitude from you as a glaring mark of imbecility, apart from which it will annoy me exceedingly." I listened in silence. What could one reply to such a strange way of putting a case? Mr. Ravenor's manner forbade any doubt as to his seriousness and I could only respect his wishes. "As you won't let me thank you, sir, I think I'd better go," I said bluntly. "I'm sure to forget if I stay here much longer." "A good discipline for you to stay, then," he answered. Again the tinkle of the telephone bell rang out from the corner and interrupted his speech. Mr. Ravenor motioned me towards it. "Go and hear what it is and repeat it to me," he said. I put my ear to the tube and repeated the words as they came: "A man desires to see you, sir, but refuses to give his name. I have told him that it is quite useless my communicating with you without it; but he is persistent and refuses to go away. He is respectably dressed, but rather rough-looking." Mr. Ravenor shrugged his shoulders and took up his pen, as though about to resume his writing. "Tell him to go to the deuce!" he said briefly. I repeated the message faithfully, but its recipient was evidently not satisfied. In less than a minute the bell sounded again. "His name is Richards, sir--or, rather, he says he is known to you by that name--and he is very emphatic about seeing you--and, begging your pardon, sir, a little insolent. He says that his business is of the utmost importance." I repeated the message and stood as though turned to stone. Was my fancy playing tricks with me in the dimly-lit room, or had Mr. Ravenor's face really become ghastly and livid, like the face of a man who sees the phantom shadows of a hideous nightmare passing before his fixed gaze? I closed my eyes for a moment's relief and looked again. Surely it had been fancy! Mr. Ravenor was writing with only a slight frown upon his calm, serene face. "Let Mr. Richards--or whatever the fellow's name is--be given to understand that I distinctly refuse to see him," he said quietly. "If he has any business with me he can write." I repeated this and then took up my cap to go. Mr. Ravenor put down his pen and walked with me to the door. I had expected that he would have offered me his hand, but he did not. He nodded, kindly enough and held the door open while I passed out. So I went.