“Yes; I am the Universal After-Dinner Speaker. I supply the speeches for every occasion. I keep up the reputation of the City for eloquence. Why, we were rapidly sinking; we were already acknowledged to be far below the American level. Then I came. I raised the standard. Our after-dinner speeches--mine--are becoming part of our national greatness. Why? Because I, sir--I, Christopher Campaigne--took them in hand.” “Yet, in secrecy.” “I carry on this business alone--I myself--hitherto without recognition. The time may come when the national distinctions will be offered to the--in fact, the After-Dinner Demosthenes.” “You look so far forward?” “I confess that the work is light, easy--to me, at least--and pleasant. It is also well paid. People are willing to give a great deal for such a reputation as I can make for them. Nobody ever wants to see me. Nobody knows who I am. Nobody wants to know. That is natural, come to think of it. The whole business is done by correspondence. I work for none but persons of wealth and position. Confidence is respected on both sides. Sometimes the whole of a dinner, so to speak, passes through my hands. I have even known occasions on which I have sat unrecognised at a dinner-table, and listened to my speeches being delivered well or ill through the whole evening. Imagine, if you can, the glow and glory of such an evening.” “I can imagine a ruddy hue--of shame. After five-and-twenty years of deception, however, there is not much shame left. What has happened now? You have been found out, I suppose?” “Yes; I have been found out. There was a little mistake. I sent a man the wrong speech--the response instead of the proposer’s speech. To the proposer I sent the same speech in duplicate. I cannot imagine how the mistake was possible, but it happened. And you may imagine the feelings of the poor young man who heard his own brilliant speech which was in his pocket actually delivered, a few words only changed, by the man whom he was about to answer. When his turn came he rose; he was overcome; he blurted out three or four words, and sat down.” “Oh! And then?” “In the morning he came to beard me in my own den. He had never seen me before, but he knew my address. He came with a big stick, being a little man. Ho, ho! and he marched in flourishing his stick. You should have seen him when I stood over him with the office ruler.” He laughed again, but at the sight of Leonard’s dark face he checked his sense of humour. “Well, the misfortune was that I know the fellow at home, and he comes to our place, and knows me, and, worse than that, my own son, Algernon, was with him to see fair----” “Oh, Algernon was with him. Then, Algernon knows?” “Yes, he knows. I packed off the fellow, and had it out with Algernon. It was a tough business. I’m sorry for Algernon. Perhaps, he won’t put on quite so much side, though. Yes,” he repeated thoughtfully, “I had it out with that young man. He knows now what the real profession is.”