"I had hoped that the whole of that terrible business had been buried for good." "So it has, sir," grunted Crampton; "but some one or another keeps digging it up again." Van Heldre made no reply, so Crampton left the office, sent off a messenger, and returned to find his employer seated with his face buried in his hands, thinking deeply, and heedless of his presence. "Poor George!" he said aloud. "Poor misguided boy! I wish Crampton had been--" "I'm back here," said Crampton. "Ah! Crampton," said Van Heldre starting, "sent off the message?" "Yes, sir, I've sent off the message," said the old man sternly. "Pray finish what you were saying, sir. Never mind my feelings." "What I was saying, Crampton? I did not say anything." "Oh yes, you did, sir; you wished Crampton had been--what, sir?--buried too, like the trouble?" "My good fellow--my dear old Crampton! surely I did not say that aloud." "How could I have heard it, sir, if you hadn't? I only did my duty." "Yes, yes, of course, of course, Crampton. Really I am very, very sorry." "And only just before I left the room you were complaining about people digging up the old trouble." "Come, Crampton, I can deny that. I apologise for thinking aloud, but it was you who spoke of digging up the old trouble." "Ah! well, it doesn't matter, sir. It was my birthday just as you were at your worst. Seventy-five, Mr Van Heldre, sir, and you can't be troubled with such a blundering old clerk much longer." "My dear Crampton--" "May I come in?" followed by three thumps with a heavy stick. Crampton hurried to the outer office to confront Uncle Luke. "Met your messenger just outside, and saved him from going up. How much did you give him? He ought to pay that back." "Oh, never mind that, Luke. How are you?" "How am I?" "Yes. Getting settled down again?" "How am I? Well, a little better this morning. Do I smell of yellow soap?" "No." "Wonder at it. I spent nearly all yesterday trying to get off the London dirt and smoke. Treat to get back to where there's room to breathe." "Ah, you never did like London." "And London never liked me, so we're even there. Well," he continued after a pause filled up by a low muttering grunt, "what do you want? You didn't send for me to come and tell you that I had caught a cold on my journey down or got a rheumatic twinge." "No, no, Luke, of course not." "Nice one, 'pon my word!" muttered Crampton. "Well, what is it?" Crampton moved towards the door, his way lying by Uncle Luke; but just as he neared the opening, the visitor made a stab at the wall with his heavy stick, and, as it were, raised a bar before the old clerk, who started violently. "Bless my heart, Mr Luke Vine!" he cried; "what are you about? Don't do that." "Stop here, then. Who told you to go?" "No one, sir, but--" "How do I know what he wants. I may be glad of a witness." "Oh, yes! You need not go, Crampton," said Van Heldre. "Sit down, Luke."