"Gerald Pompey. Something to do with him being a sheriff in the City, you know. I bet you what you laike he went in for the Common Council simply in order to get even with old Pilgrim. In fact, I know he did. And now a foundation-stone-laying has dan it!" "A foundation-stone-laying?" "Yes. The new City Guild’s building, you knaow. Royalty--Temple Bar business--sheriffs--knighthood. There you are!" "Oh!" said Edward Henry. And then after a pause added: "Pity _we_ can’t have a foundation-stone-laying!" "By the way, old Pilgrim’s in the deuce and all of a haole, I heah. It’s all over the Clubs." (In speaking of the Clubs, Mr. Marrier always pronounced them with a Capital letter.) "I told you he was going to sail from Tilbury on his world-tour, and have a grand embarking ceremony and seeing-off! Just laike him! Greatest advertiser the world ever saw! Well, since that P. and O. boat was lost on the Goodwins, Cora Pryde has absolutely declined to sail from Tilbury. Ab-so-lute-ly! Swears she’ll join the steamer at Marseilles. And Pilgrim has got to go with her, too." "Why?" "Well, even Pilgrim couldn’t have a grand embarking ceremony without his leading lady! He’s furious, I hear." "Why shouldn’t he go with her?" "Why not? Because he’s formally announced his grand embarking ceremony! Invitations are out. Barge from London Bridge to Tilbury, and so on! What he wants is a good excuse for giving it up. He’d never be able to admit that he’d had to give it up because Cora Pryde made him! He wants to save his face." "Well," said Edward Henry absently, "it’s a queer world. You’ve got me a room at the Grand Bab?" "Rather!" "Then let’s go and have a look at the Regent first," said Edward Henry. No sooner had he expressed the wish than Mr. Marrier’s neck curved round through the window, and with three words to the chauffeur he had deflected the course of the taxi. Edward Henry had an almost boyish curiosity about his edifice. He would go and give it a glance at the oddest moments. And just now he had a swift and violent desire to behold it. With all speed the taxi shot down Shaftesbury Avenue and swerved to the right.... There it was! Yes, it really existed, the incredible edifice of his caprice and of Mr. Alloyd’s constructive imagination! It had already reached a height of fifteen feet; and, dozens of yards above that, cranes dominated the sunlit air, swinging loads of bricks in the azure; and scores of workmen crawled about beneath these monsters. And he, Edward Henry, by a single act of volition was the author of it! He slipped from the taxi, penetrated within the wall of hoardings, and gazed, just gazed! A wondrous thing--human enterprise! And also a terrifying thing! ... That building might be the tomb of his reputation. On the other hand it might be the seed of a new renown compared to which the first would be as naught! He turned his eyes away, in fear--yes, in fear!