The footman ushered in two men, frock-coated, grey-trousered, smooth-shaven, heavy of speech and gait. It was nearly nine o’clock, but they looked as newly come from a bath. I could not understand why the elder and taller of the pair glanced at me as though we had an understanding; nor why he shook hands with an unEnglish warmth. “This simplifies the situation,” he said in an undertone, and, as I stared, he whispered to his companion: “I fear I shall be of very little service at present. Perhaps Mr. Folsom had better talk over the affair with Mr. Sargent.” “That is what I am here for,” said Wilton. The man of law smiled pleasantly, and said that he saw no reason why the difficulty should not be arranged in two minutes’ quiet talk. His air, as he sat down opposite Wilton, was soothing to the last degree, and his companion drew me up-stage. The mystery was deepening, but I followed meekly, and heard Wilton say, with an uneasy laugh: “I’ve had insomnia over this affair, Mr. Folsom. Let’s settle it one way or the other, for heaven’s sake!” “Ah! Has he suffered much from this lately?” said my man, with a preliminary cough. “I really can’t say,” I replied. “Then I suppose you have only lately taken charge here?” “I came this evening. I am not exactly in charge of anything.” “I see. Merely to observe the course of events in case—” He nodded. “Exactly.” Observation, after all, is my trade. He coughed again slightly, and came to business. “Now,—I am asking solely for information’s sake,—do you find the delusions persistent?” “Which delusions?” “They are variable, then? That is distinctly curious, because—but do I understand that the _type_ of the delusion varies? For example, Mr. Sargent believes that he can buy the Great Buchonian.” “Did he write you that?” “He made the offer to the Company—on a half-sheet of note-paper. Now, has he by chance gone to the other extreme, and believed that he is in danger of becoming a pauper? The curious economy in the use of a half-sheet of paper shows that some idea of that kind might have flashed through his mind, and the two delusions can coexist, but it is not common. As you must know, the delusion of vast wealth—the folly of grandeurs, I believe our friends the French call it—is, as a rule, persistent, to the exclusion of all others.” Then I heard Wilton’s best English voice at the end of the study: “My _dear_ sir, I have explained twenty times already, I wanted to get that scarab in time for dinner. Suppose you had left an important legal document in the same way?” “That touch of cunning is very significant,” my fellow-practitioner—since he insisted on it—muttered.