She led the way to a sitting-room that was hazy with cigarette smoke. It was a large room, its floor covered with a soft carpet that had once cost a lot of money but was now mottled with stains. Before the fire was a big divan, and on this she had been reclining. The furnishing and appointments of the room were of that style which is believed to be oriental by quite a large number of people. The whole room was half way to blowsiness. It had a stale, sweet scent. Before the fire, in a shallow basket lined with red silk, a Pekingese dog opened his weary eyes to survey the newcomer, and instantly closed them again. “Well, my dear, what brings you up to town? I told you to snatch a few hours sleep--round about one you looked like a boiled owl, and that’s not the state to be in when you’re chasing money.” She was dark and good-looking by certain standards. Her figure was robust, and nature had given generously to the amplification of her visible charms. The red of her full lips was a natural red; the clear skin was of fine texture; her face was scarcely powdered. For a very long time they talked, head to head. She was an excellent listener; her sympathy had a sincere note. At half-past five: “Now off you pop and don’t worry. The governor will be seeing you to-night--talk it over with him. I think you’d better, in case anything turns up… you know what I mean.” He took a letter out of his pocket and gave it to her with an air of embarrassment. “I wrote it, or rather started it, this morning… I couldn’t finish it. I mean every word I say.” She kissed him loudly. “You’re a darling!” she said. Mr. Kingfether came back to his office to find only a junior in charge. McKay, despite instructions to the contrary, had gone, and the sub-manager sat down to a rough examination of important books in no condition to do justice to his task. He possessed one of those slow-starting tempers that gathers momentum from its own weight. A little grievance and a long brooding brought him to a condition of senseless and unrestrainable fury. He was in this state when Kenneth McKay returned. “I asked you to stay in, didn’t I?” He glowered at his subordinate. “Did you? Well, I stayed in until I finished my work. Then the bank inspector came.” Mr. Kingfether’s face went white. “What did he want? Redman didn’t tell me he called.” “Well, he did.” Kenneth passed into the outer office. Kingfether sat scribbling oddly on his blotting-pad for a moment, and then for the first time saw the letter that had been placed on the mantelpiece. It was marked “Urgent. Confidential. Deliver by hand,” and was from head office. He took it up with a shaking hand, and, after a long hesitation, tore the seal. There was a little mirror on the wall above the fireplace, and he caught sight of his face and could hardly believe that that ghost of a man was himself.