*SALTHAVEN* _By_ W. W. JACOBS 1908 CONTENTS CHAPTER I CHAPTER II CHAPTER III CHAPTER IV CHAPTER V CHAPTER VI CHAPTER VII CHAPTER VIII CHAPTER IX CHAPTER X CHAPTER XI CHAPTER XII CHAPTER XIII CHAPTER XIV CHAPTER XV CHAPTER XVI CHAPTER XVII CHAPTER XVIII CHAPTER XIX CHAPTER XX CHAPTER XXI CHAPTER XXII CHAPTER XXIII CHAPTER XXIV CHAPTER XXV CHAPTER XXVI CHAPTER I MR. JOHN VYNER, ship-owner, pushed his chair back from his writing-table and gazed with kindly condescension at the chief clerk as he stood before it with a handful of papers. “We shall be able to relieve you of some of your work soon, Hartley,” he said, slowly. “Mr. Robert will come into the firm next week.” The chief clerk bowed. “Three years at Cambridge,” resumed Mr. Vyner, meditatively, “and two years spent up and down the world studying the business methods of other nations ought to render him invaluable to us.” “No doubt, sir,” said Hartley. “It is an excellent training.” “For a time,” said the ship-owner, leaning back and placing the tips of his fingers together, “for a time I am afraid that he will have to have your room. Later on—ha—if a room should—ha—fall vacant in the building, we might consider taking it.” “Yes, sir,” said the other. “And, of course,” resumed Mr. Vyner, “there is one great advantage in your being in the general office which must not be overlooked; you can keep an eye on the juniors better.” “It is cheerful, too, sir,” suggested the chief clerk; “the only thing—” “Yes?” said Mr. Vyner, somewhat loudly. Mr. Hartley shrank a little. “I was going to say that it is rather a small room for Mr. Robert,” he said, quickly. “It will do for a time,” said the other. “And—and I think I told you, sir, that there is an unpleasant sm—odour.” Mr. Vyner knitted his brows. “I offered to have that seen to, but you said that you didn’t mind it,” he remarked. “Just so, sir,” said Hartley; “but I was thinking of Mr. Robert. He might not like it; it’s very strong at times—very strong indeed.” “You ought to have had it attended to before,” said Mr. Vyner, with some severity. “You had better call at Gillows’ on your way home and ask them to send a man up first thing to-morrow morning.” He drew his chair to the table again, and Hartley, after lingering a moment, withdrew to his own room. Ten out of his thirty-five years of service had been passed there, and he stifled a sigh as he looked at the neat array of drawers and pigeon-holes, the window overlooking the bridge and harbour, and the stationer’s almanac which hung over the fireplace. The japanned letter-rack and the gum-bottle on the small mantelpiece were old friends.