In a few minutes an attendant, in a gay uniform, came in by the same door, without seeking to suppress the clatter of his boots on the oak floor. "Holà! monsieur," he said, in a loud voice. And Mr. John Turner crossed his legs and leant farther back in the chair, preparatory to opening his eyes, which he did directly on the new-comer's face, without any of that vague flitting hither and thither of glance which usually denotes the sleeper surprised. The eyes were of a clear blue, and Mr. Turner looked five years younger with them open than with them shut. But he was immensely stout. "Well, my friend," he said, soothingly; for the Minister's attendant had a truculent ministerial manner. "Why so much noise?" "The Minister will see you." John Turner yawned and reached for his hat. "The Minister is pressed for time." "So was I," replied the Englishman, who spoke perfect French, "when I first sat down here, half an hour ago. But even haste will pass in time." He rose, and followed the servant into the inner room, where he returned the bow of a little white-bearded gentleman seated at a huge desk. "Well, sir," said this gentleman, with the abrupt manner which has come to be considered Napoleonic on the stage or in the political world to-day. "Your business?" The servant had withdrawn, closing the door behind him with an emphasis of the self-accusatory sort. "I am a banker," replied John Turner, looking with an obese deliberation toward one of the deep windows, where, half-concealed by the heavy curtain, a third person stood gazing down into the street. The Minister smiled involuntarily, forgetting his dignity of a two-years' growth. "Oh, you may speak before Monsieur," he said. "But I am behind him," was the immediate reply. The gentleman leaning against the window-breast did not accept this somewhat obvious invitation to show his face. He must have heard it, however, despite an absorption which was probably chronic; for he made a movement to follow with his glance the passage of some object of interest in the street below. And the movement seemed to supply John Turner with the information he desired. "Yes, I am a banker," he said, more genially. The Minister gave a short laugh. "Monsieur," he said, "every one in Europe knows that. Proceed." "And I only meddle in politics when I see the possibility of making an honest penny." "Already made--that honest penny--if one may believe the gossip--of Europe," said the Minister. "So many pence that it is whispered that you do not know what to do with them." "It is unfortunate," admitted Turner, "that one can only dine once a day." The little gentleman in office had more than once invited his visitor to be seated, indicating by a gesture the chair placed ready for him. After a slow inspection of its legs, Mr. John Turner now seated himself. It would seem that he, at the same time, tacitly accepted the invitation to ignore the presence of a third person.