“Let’s take a cab,” said Dick, and such was his doubt that he waited for three empty taxis to pass before he hailed the fourth. “Come in,” said Dick when the cab dropped them at Harley Terrace. “I’ve got a spare room if you want to sleep.” Elk shook his head to the latter suggestion, but accompanied Gordon into the house. The man who opened the door had evidently something to say. “There’s a gentleman waiting to see you, sir. He’s been here for half an hour.” “What is his name?” “Mr. Johnson, sir.” “Johnson?” said Dick in surprise, and hurried to the dining-room, into which the visitor had been ushered. It was, indeed, “the philosopher,” though Mr. Johnson lacked for the moment evidence of that equilibrium which is the chiefest of his possessions. The stout man was worried; his face was unusually long; and when Dick went into the room, he was sitting uncomfortably on the edge of a chair, as he had seen him sitting at Heron’s Club, his gloomy eyes fixed upon the carpet. “I hope you’ll forgive me for coming to see you, Captain Gordon,” he said. “I’ve really no right to bring my troubles to you.” “I hope your troubles aren’t as pressing as mine,” smiled Dick as he shook hands. “You know Mr. Elk?” “Mr. Elk is an old friend,” said Johnson, almost cheerful for a second. “Well, what is your kick?—sit down, won’t you?” said Dick. “I’m going to have a real breakfast. Will you join me?” “With pleasure, sir. I’ve eaten nothing this morning. I usually have a little lunch about eleven, but I can’t say that I feel very hungry. The fact is, Captain Gordon, I’m fired.” Dick raised his eyebrows. “What—has Maitland fired you?” Johnson nodded. “And to think that I’ve served the old devil all these years faithfully, on a clerk’s salary! I’ve never given him any cause for complaint, I’ve handled hundreds of thousands—yes, and millions! And although it’s not for me to blow my own trumpet, I’ve never once been a penny out in my accounts. Of course, if I had been, he would have found it out in less than no time, for he is the greatest mathematician I’ve ever met. And as sharp as a needle! He can write twice as fast as any other man I’ve known,” he added with reluctant admiration. “It’s rather curious that a man of his uncouth appearance and speech should have those attainments,” said Dick. “It’s a wonder to me,” confessed Johnson. “In fact, it has been a standing wonder to me ever since I’ve known him. You’d think he was a dustman or a tramp, to hear him talk, yet he’s a very well-read man, of extraordinary educational qualities.” “Can he remember dates?” asked Elk. “He can even remember dates,” replied Johnson seriously. “A queer old man, and in many ways an unpleasant old man. I’m not saying this because he’s fired me; I’ve always had the same view. He’s without a single spark of kindness; I think the only human thing about him is his love for this little boy.” “What little boy?” asked Elk, immediately interested.