Presently an official strolled in from another department. He was a middle-aged, corpulent, and cheerful-looking man, dressed in gaudy coloured tissue, on which all manner of strange birds were depicted. He was bursting with news. “Phocas is going to win,” he said. “It is certain.” Cephalus looked vaguely up from his book and said: “Oh!” Theophilus and Rufinus paid no attention to the remark. “Well,” continued the new-comer cheerfully, “Who will come to the races with me?” As soon as he heard the word races, Rufinus looked up from his scribbling. “I will come,” he said, “if I can get leave.” “I did not know you cared for that sort of thing,” said Cephalus. Rufinus blushed and murmured something about going every now and then. He walked out of the room, and sought the _Referendarius_ in the next room. This official was reading a document. He did not look up when Rufinus entered, but went on with his reading. At last, after a prolonged interval, he turned round and said: “What is it?” “May I go to the races?” asked Rufinus. “Well,” said the high official, “what about your work?” “We’ve finished everything,” said the clerk. The Head of the Department assumed an air of mystery and coughed. “I don’t think I can very well see my way to letting you go,” he said. “I am very sorry,” he added quickly, “and if it depended on me you should go at once. But He,” he added--he always alluded to the Head of the Office as He--“does not like it. He may come in at any moment and find you gone. No; I’m afraid I can’t let you go to-day. Now, if it had been yesterday you could have gone.” “I should only be away an hour,” said Rufinus, tentatively. “He might choose just that hour to come round. If it depended only on me you should go at once,” and he laughed and slapped Rufinus on the back, jocularly. The clerk did not press the point further. “You’d better get on with that index,” said the high official as Rufinus withdrew. He told the result of his interview to his sporting friend, who started out by himself to the Hippodrome.