Beevor's congratulations were quite as cordial as could be expected, as soon as he fully understood that no hoax was intended. "Well, old man," he said, "I _am_ glad. I really am, you know. To think of a prize like that coming to you the very first time! And you don't even know how this Mr. Wackerbath came to hear of you--just happened to see your name up outside and came in, I expect. Why, I dare say, if I hadn't chanced to go away as I did--and about a couple of paltry two thousand pound houses, too! Ah, well, I don't grudge you your luck, though it _does_ seem rather---- It was worth waiting for; you'll be cutting _me_ out before long--if you don't make a mess of this job. I mean, you know, old chap, if you don't go and give your City man a Gothic castle when what he wants is something with plenty of plate-glass windows and a Corinthian portico. That's the rock I see ahead of _you_. You mustn't mind my giving you a word of warning!" "Oh no," said Ventimore; "but I shan't give him either a Gothic castle or plenty of plate-glass. I venture to think he'll be pleased with the general idea as I'm working it out." "Let's hope so," said Beevor. "If you get into any difficulty, you know," he added, with a touch of patronage, "just you come to me." "Thanks," said Horace, "I will. But I'm getting on very fairly at present." "I should rather like to see what you've made of it. I might be able to give you a wrinkle here and there." "It's awfully good of you, but I think I'd rather you didn't see the plans till they're quite finished," said Horace. The truth was that he was perfectly aware that the other would not be in sympathy with his ideas; and Horace, who had just been suffering from a cold fit of depression about his work, rather shrank from any kind of criticism. "Oh, just as you please!" said Beevor, a little stiffly; "you always _were_ an obstinate beggar. I've had a certain amount of experience, you know, in my poor little pottering way, and I thought I might possibly have saved you a cropper or two. But if you think you can manage better alone--only don't get bolted with by one of those architectural hobbies of yours, that's all." "All right, old fellow. I'll ride my hobby on the curb," said Horace, laughing, as he went back to his own office, where he found that all his former certainty and enjoyment of his work had returned to him, and by the end of the day he had made so much progress that his designs needed only a few finishing touches to be complete enough for his client's inspection. Better still, on returning to his rooms that evening to change before going to Kensington, he found that the admirable Fakrash had kept his promise--every chest, sack, and bale had been cleared away.