"Ventimore, to be sure!" he put his hand in his pocket and produced a card: "Yes, it's all quite correct: I see I have the name here. And an architect, Mr. Ventimore, so I--I am given to understand, of immense ability." "I'm afraid I can't claim to be that," said Horace, "but I may call myself fairly competent." "Competent? Why, of _course_ you're competent. Do you suppose, sir, that I, a practical business man, should come to any one who was _not_ competent?" he said, with exactly the air of a man trying to convince himself--against his own judgment--that he was acting with the utmost prudence. "Am I to understand that some one has been good enough to recommend me to you?" inquired Horace. "Certainly not, sir, certainly not. _I_ need no recommendation but my own judgment. I--ah--have a tolerable acquaintance with all that is going on in the art world, and I have come to the conclusion, Mr.--eh--ah--Ventimore, I repeat, the deliberate and unassisted conclusion, that you are the one man living who can do what I want." "Delighted to hear it," said Horace, genuinely gratified. "When did you see any of my designs?" "Never mind, sir. I don't decide without very good grounds. It doesn't take me long to make up my mind, and when my mind is made up, I act, sir, I act. And, to come to the point, I have a small commission--unworthy, I am quite aware, of your--ah--distinguished talent--which I should like to put in your hands." "Is _he_ going to ask me to attend a sale for him?" thought Horace. "I'm hanged if I do." "I'm rather busy at present," he said dubiously, "as you may see. I'm not sure whether----" "I'll put the matter in a nutshell, sir--in a nutshell. My name is Wackerbath, Samuel Wackerbath--tolerably well known, if I may say so, in City circles." Horace, of course, concealed the fact that his visitor's name and fame were unfamiliar to him. "I've lately bought a few acres on the Hampshire border, near the house I'm living in just now; and I've been thinking--as I was saying to a friend only just now, as we were crossing Westminster Bridge--I've been thinking of building myself a little place there, just a humble, unpretentious home, where I could run down for the weekend and entertain a friend or two in a quiet way, and perhaps live some part of the year. Hitherto I've rented places as I wanted 'em--old family seats and ancestral mansions and so forth: very nice in their way, but I want to feel under a roof of my own. I want to surround myself with the simple comforts, the--ah--unassuming elegance of an English country home. And you're the man--I feel more convinced of it with every word you say--you're the man to do the job in style--ah--to execute the work as it should be done."