It was the voice of Mr. Marrier. Edward Henry and Mr. Marrier were now in regular relations. Before Edward Henry had paid his final bill at Wilkins’s and relinquished his valet and his electric brougham, and disposed forever of his mythical "man" on board the _Minnetonka_, and got his original luggage away from the Hotel Majestic, Mr. Marrier had visited him and made a certain proposition. And such was the influence of Mr. Marrier’s incurable smile, and of his solid optimism, and of his obvious talent for getting things done on the spot (as witness the photography), that the proposition had been accepted. Mr. Marrier was now Edward Henry’s "representative" in London. At the Green Room Club Mr. Marrier informed reliable cronies that he was Edward Henry’s "confidential adviser." At the Turk’s Head, Hanbridge, Edward Henry informed reliable cronies that Mr. Marrier was a sort of clerk, factotum, or maid of all work. A compromise between these two very different conceptions of Mr. Marrier’s position had been arrived at in the word "representative." The real truth was that Edward Henry employed Mr. Marrier in order to listen to Mr. Marrier. He turned to Mr. Marrier like a tap, and nourished himself from a gushing stream of useful information concerning the theatrical world. Mr. Marrier, quite unconsciously, was bit by bit remedying Edward Henry’s acute ignorance. The question of wages had caused Edward Henry some apprehension. He had learnt in a couple of days that a hundred pounds a week was a trifle on the stage. He had soon heard of performers who worked for "nominal" salaries of forty and fifty a week. For a manager twenty pounds a week seemed to be a usual figure. But in the Five Towns three pounds a week is regarded as very goodish pay for any subordinate, and Edward Henry could not rid himself all at once of native standards. He had therefore, with diffidence, offered three pounds a week to the aristocratic Marrier. And Mr. Marrier had not refused it, nor ceased to smile. On three pounds a week he haunted the best restaurants, taxicabs, and other resorts, and his garb seemed always to be smarter than Edward Henry’s, especially in such details as waistcoat slips. Of course Mr. Marrier had a taxicab waiting exactly opposite the coach from which Edward Henry descended. It was just this kind of efficient attention that was gradually endearing him to his employer. "How goes it?" said Edward Henry curtly, as they drove down to the Grand Babylon Hotel, now Edward Henry’s regular headquarters in London. Said Mr. Marrier: "I suppose you’ve seen another of ’em’s got a knighthood?" "No," said Edward Henry. "Who?" He knew that by "’em" Mr. Marrier meant the great race of actor-managers.