“Do not judge me by the outer crust,” he said. “I am shabby because I have been through much. When I stepped aboard the boat at New York I was as natty a looking young fellow as you could wish to see. People nudged one another as I passed along the pier and said, ‘Who is he?’” “You come from America?” “From America.” “Ah!” said Mr. Cornelius, as if that explained everything. “My uncle,” said Sam, sensing the change in the atmosphere and pursuing his advantage, “is Mr. John B. Pynsent, the well-to-do millionaire of whom you have doubtless heard.... You haven’t? One of our greatest captains of industry. He made a vast fortune in fur.” “In fur? Really?” “Got the concession for providing the snakes at the Bronx Zoo with earmuffs, and from that moment never looked back.” “You surprise me,” said Mr. Cornelius. “Most interesting.” “A romance of commerce,” agreed Sam. “And now, returning to this matter of the house----” “Ah, yes,” said Mr. Cornelius. His voice, as he eyed the money on the table, was soft and gentle. He still looked like a druid priest, but a druid priest on his afternoon off. “For how long a period did you wish to rent Mon Repos, Mr.--er----” “Shotter is the name.... Indefinitely.” “Shall we say three months rent in advance?” “Let us say just those very words.” “And as to references----” Sam was on the point of giving Mr. Wrenn’s name, until he recollected that he had not yet met that gentleman. Using his shaving brush and razor and eating food from his larder seemed to bring them very close together. He reflected. “Lord Tilbury,” he said. “That’s the baby.” “Lord Tilbury, of the Mammoth Publishing Company?” said Mr. Cornelius, plainly awed. “Do you know him?” “Know him? We’re more like brothers than anything. There’s precious little Lord Tilbury ever does without consulting me. It might be a good idea to call him up on the phone now. I ought to let him know that I’ve arrived.” Mr. Cornelius turned to the telephone, succeeded after an interval in getting the number, and after speaking with various unseen underlings, tottered reverently as he found himself talking to the great man in person. He handed the instrument to Sam. “His Lordship would like to speak to you, Mr. Shotter.” “I knew it, I knew it,” said Sam. “Hello! Lord Tilbury? This is Sam. How are you? I’ve just arrived. I came over in a tramp steamer, and I’ve been having all sorts of adventures. Give you a good laugh. I’m down at Valley Fields at the moment, taking a house. I’ve given your name as a reference. You don’t mind? Splendid! Lunch? Delighted. I’ll be along as soon as I can. Got to get a new suit first. I slept in my clothes last night.... Well, good-bye. It’s all right about the references,” he said, turning to Mr. Cornelius. “Carry on.” “I will draw up the lease immediately, Mr. Shotter. If you will tell me where I am to send it----” “Send it?” said Sam surprised. “Why, to Mon Repos, of course.” “But----” “Can’t I move in at once?”