“Sidney Repton, company promoter, newspaper proprietor, and so forth?” “That will be the fellow! He gave me the slip last night! My position, as a guest, precluded the possibility of obtaining his address from another guest; and the fellow left without his hat. But his address was not in his hat. Where does he live?” “39A, Fig Tree Court.” “Will you come around with me?” “For what, purpose?” “I am going to pull his nose!” “He will probably prosecute you!” “I think not. But I am entirely at his service. And what about Bruce McIvor?” “McIvor is a man of great promise. He has been unfortunate. He would make an ideal leader-writer. But he lacks the necessary influence to secure such a post.” O’Hagan frowned thoughtfully. “He lacks incentive, Raymond,” he said. “A man who can trace his ancestry to Robert Bruce requires no influence other than that of blood. Blood, my boy! that is the secret of success! When he is engaged to the girl he loves—the girl I have chosen for him—he will go far. Mark my words, Raymond; he will go far.” “I was unaware that he was a friend of yours.” “I have never spoken to him! But it is unnecessary. A leader-writer, you say? On behalf of an old-established and soundly Conservative organ, of course? Such vacancies, I take it, are rare?” “Very rare. The leader-writer of the _Universe_ is about to become editor. That will create a vacancy. But poor McIvor is not in the running.” “How is that?” “Well—your friend, Repton, is a big shareholder—managing director. And Repton—for some reason—is no friend to McIvor.” “The reason is evident to me, Raymond. But I am wasting time. I shall be too late to pull Repton’s nose; and, owing to other engagements, the pleasure would have to be unduly postponed if I missed him this morning. Are you ready?” “My dear fellow, you really must excuse me!” O’Hagan rose, picked up his cane as though it were a sword, swung his shoulders as though to adjust a bandolier, and sighed sadly. “I am disappointed in you, Raymond. Your ancestor, who helped to hold Limerick, would be disappointed in you, too, I fear. You are tainted with the modern heresies which substitute the solicitor for the second, the divorce-court for the rapier. Good morning.” The dignified displeasure of the Hon. Bernard O’Hagan is a dire penalty for any man to incur. The Captain retired from my rooms as who should say, “There is a plebeian strain somewhere here!” It was a Charles rebuking a Buckingham; save that the Buckingham was a sorry Villiers, and the Charles a credit to the house of Stuart. Leaving me to my breakfast and my humiliation, proceed with O’Hagan to No. 39A, Fig Tree Court.