“Course not.” Mr. Wagstaff spoke testily, as though for an employee to give him notice was an event beyond the bounds of possibility. “Then he left without notifying you?” “Well, hardly.” The lawyer noticed that the door leading into the main office was ajar; he got up and closed it. When he returned he did not re-seat himself, but straddled the hearth-rug, holding up his coat-tails although no fire was burning. “Mr. Barrington, sir, I put up with your cousin's shiftlessness for longer that I ought to have done; I did it out of respect for you, sir. There was a time when I hoped I might make something of him. He can be nimble-witted over trifles and his own affairs; but he never put any interest into my work. He was insubordinate--not to my face, you understand, but when my back was turned; he wasn't a good influence in the office. I tell you this, sir, to prove that I haven't acted without consideration.” The lawyer waggled his coat-tails and seemed to find a blemish in his boots, so earnestly did he regard them. When he received no help from Barrington, he suddenly came to the point and looked up sharply. “He betrayed professional confidence; so I sacked him.” “Had it happened before?” “Possibly. He was always garrulous. This time it was an affair of some property at Sandport. Our client had two competing purchasers, one of whom was a Mr. Playfair. Your cousin leaked to Mr. Playfair--kept him informed as to what the other purchaser was doing. Not a nice thing to occur, Mr. Barrington.” This last remark was as much an interrogation as an assertion. The lawyer waited for his opinion to be indorsed. “Not at all nice,” Barrington assented. “If it's lost you any money, I must refund it.” “'Tisn't a question of money. Wouldn't hear of that.” As Mr. Wagstaff shook hands at parting, he offered a crumb of comfort: “Mind, I don't say your cousin is dishonest, Mr. Barrington; that would be _too, too_ strong. Perhaps, it would be better stated by saying that his sense of honor is rudimentary.” “Perhaps,” said Barrington brusquely. “I think I catch your meaning.” CHAPTER XI--THE HOME LIFE OF A FINANCIER People who loved Ocky Waffles always loved him for his good; he would have preferred to have been loved for almost any other purpose. Affection, in his experience, turned friends into schoolmasters. There was Barrington, a fine chap and all that; but why the dickens did he take such endless pains to be so uselessly unpleasant? Ocky was on the lookout for Jehane when she returned from Topbury. As she turned the corner, he espied her from behind the curtains and lit his pipe to give himself confidence. No sooner had she entered than she commenced an account of her visit, indignantly underlining her interview with Barrington. Ocky seated himself on the edge of the table, puffing away and swinging his legs.