‘You go and tell your master what I say,’ answers the shabby gentleman—‘that an old friend from abroad wishes to see him.’ The lips move again—this time in a curled-up and scornful manner. ‘People as is ashamed o’ their names ain’t no friends o’ master’s, I’m sure.’ ‘That’s more than you know, you impertinent hussy! Take my message.’ ‘Shan’t!’ With that the flap goes to with a bang. The shabby gentleman is not in the least abashed. He takes the bell-handle calmly and proceeds to tug at it. He continues tugging till the female face, hotter and angrier than ever, once more appears at the peephole. ‘If you don’t go away I shall send for the perlice.’ ‘Will you take my message?’ ‘No, master ain’t at home.’ ‘Then why the devil didn’t you say so before?’ ‘Cus I didn’t choose. P’raps you’d like to know where he is, and where he was borned, Mr. Impertinence; and how many times he’s been waksinated, and what he had for dinner o’ Sunday. Come, what is it? ’Ave you called to see the meter and help yourself to the hovercoats; or d’ye want to be shown in and see which is the heasiest way through the back window on sone futur’ ercashun?’ The domestic was fully roused now, and she let the shabby gentleman have it. She knew a thing or two; and she wasn’t going to be made a fool of, like the silly girls master read to her about in the newspapers. Her particular instructions were never, under any circumstances, to admit a visitor when her master was out, and she meant to obey them. Besides, what could a shabby fellow like this want but what he’d no right to? The shabby gentleman wasn’t angry in the least. He accepted the attack with a smile. ‘Bravo, Jemima! or whatever your name is,’ he said. ‘You are a shrewd girl, and deserve encouragement. I’ll report to the doctor, when I see him, what an admirable watch-dog you make.’ ‘Dog yourself! and my name ain’t Jemima; and if it was, I shouldn’t be ashamed on it, like you are o’ yourn. Go away. There ain’t nothing to be got here.’ Bang went the flap, and the shabby gentleman was still on the wrong side of the door. He was about to stroll away when a carriage came dashing down the narrow roadway, and was pulled up in front of The Lodge. Dr. Birnie jumped out, the carriage drove off, and then the shabby gentleman, coming close up to the doctor as he was putting his latchkey into the garden gate, touched him gently on the arm. The doctor turned. For a moment he hesitated and turned slightly pale, then he looked closely into the shabby gentleman’s face and gasped out: ‘Good God, Marston! I thought you were dead.’ Edward Marston smiled. ‘Not yet, Birnie. I’ve been very near it, though, once or twice.’ ‘How strangely things happen,’ thought Birnie to himself. ‘I’ve been to Heckett’s and Egerton’s to-day, and now here’s Marston dropped from the skies, as if to complete the circle.’ The doctor glanced at his visitor’s costume, and then at his face again. ‘Hard up, I suppose?’ he said uneasily.