Mr. Slosson, senior, heard Edward Henry’s story, but seemingly did not find it quite as interesting as he had prophesied it would be. When Edward Henry had finished the old man drummed on an enormous table, and said: "Yes, yes. And then?" His manner was far less bullying than in the room of Mr. Vulto. "It’s your turn now, Mr. Slosson," said Edward Henry. "My turn? How?" "To go on with the story." He glanced at the clock. "I’ve brought it up to date--eleven fifteen o’clock this morning, _anno domini_." And as Mr. Slosson continued to drum on the table and to look out of the window, Edward Henry also drummed on the table and looked out of the window. The chamber of the senior partner was a very different matter from Mr. Vulto’s. It was immense. It was not disfigured by japanned boxes inartistically lettered in white, as are most lawyers’ offices. Indeed, in aspect it resembled one of the cosier rooms in a small and decaying but still comfortable club. It had easy chairs and cigar-boxes. Moreover, the sun got into it, and there was a view of the comic yet stately Victorian Gothic of the Law Courts. The sun enheartened Edward Henry. And he felt secure in an unimpugnable suit of clothes; in the shape of his collar, the colour of his necktie, the style of his creaseless boots; and in the protuberance of his pocketbook in his pocket. As Mr. Slosson had failed to notice the competition of his drumming, he drummed still louder. Whereupon Mr. Slosson stopped drumming. Edward Henry gazed amiably around. Right at the back of the room, before a back window that gave on the whitewashed wall, a man was rapidly putting his signature to a number of papers. But Mr. Slosson had ignored the existence of this man, treating him apparently as a figment of the disordered brain, or as an optical illusion. "I’ve nothing to say," said Mr. Slosson. "Or to do?" "Or to do." "Well, Mr. Slosson," said Edward Henry, "your junior partner has already outlined your policy of masterly inactivity. So I may as well go. I did say I’d go to my solicitors; but it’s occurred to me that as I’m a principal I may as well first of all see the principals on the other side. I only came here because it mentions in the option that the matter is to be completed here; that’s all." "You a principal!" exclaimed Mr. Slosson. "It seems to me you’re a long way removed from a principal. The alleged option is given to a Miss Rose Euclid." "Excuse me--_the_ Miss Rose Euclid." "Miss Rose Euclid. She divides up her alleged interest into fractions and sells them here and there, and you buy them up one after another." Mr. Slosson laughed, not unamiably. "You’re a principal about five times removed." "Well," said Edward Henry, "whatever I am, I have a sort of idea I’ll go and see this Mr. Gristle or Wrissell. Can you--" The man at the distant desk turned his head. Mr. Slosson coughed. The man rose.