"Dinner," said he. "I'm not ready for it yet. Fetch me a whisky and soda--look here, tell Mr. Church I want to see him." "Yes, my Lord." Jones, as stated before, possessed that very rare attitude--an eye for men. It was quite unknown to him; up to this he had been condemned to take men as he found them; the pressure of circumstances alone had made him a business partner with Aaron Stringer. He had never trusted Stringer. Now, being in a position of command, he began to use this precious gift, and he selected Church for a first officer. He wanted a henchman. The whisky and soda arrived, and, almost immediately on it, Church. Jones, placing the half empty glass on the table, nodded to him. "Come in," said he, "and shut the door." Church closed the door and stood at attention. This admirable man's face was constructed not with a view to the easy interpretation of emotions. I doubt if an earthquake in Carlton House Terrace and the vicinity could have altered the expression of it. He stood as if listening. Jones began: "I want you to go to-morrow at eight o'clock to No. 12B Jermyn Street to get some documents for me. They will be handed to you by A. S. Voles." "Yes, my Lord." "You will bring them back to me here." "Yes, my Lord." "I have just seen the gentleman, and I've just dealt with him. He is a very great rogue and I had to call an officer--a constable in. I settled him." Mr. Church opened his mouth as though he were going to speak. Then he shut it again. "Go on," said Jones. "What were you going to say?" "Well, your Lordship, I was going to say that I am very glad to hear that. When you told me four months ago, in confidence, what Voles was having out of you, you will remember what advice I gave your Lordship. 'Don't be squeezed,' I said. 'Squeeze him.' Your Lordship's solicitor, Mr. Mortimer Collins, I believe, told you the same." "I have taken your advice. I find it so good that I am going to ask your advice often again--Do you see any difference in me, Mr. Church?" "Yes, my Lord, you have changed. If your Lordship will excuse me for saying so." "How?" "You have grown younger, my Lord, and more yourself, and you speak different--sharper, so to say." These words were Balm of Gilead to Jones. He had received no opinion of himself from others till now; he had vaguely mistrusted his voice, unable to estimate in how much it differed from Rochester's. The perfectly frank declaration of Church put his mind at rest. He spoke sharper--that was all. "Well," said he. "Things are going to be different all round; better too." He turned away towards the bureau, and Church opened the door. "You don't want me any longer, my Lord?" "Not just now." He opened Kelly's directory, and looked up the solicitors, till he came to the name he wanted. Mortimer Collins, 10, Sergeant's Inn, Fleet Street. "That's my man," said he to himself, "and to-morrow I will see him." He closed the book and left the room.