"No, you can't. Verrall I must see. It is very strange that you don't know whether he is to be here or not." "It happens to-day that I do not know. Mr. Verrall left it last night, I say, an open question." "It is the loss of time that I am thinking of," returned George. "You see if I go down now to his residence, he may have left it to come up here; and we should just miss each other." "Very true," asserted Brompton. George stood for a moment in thought, and then turned on his heel, and departed. "Do you know whether Mr. Verrall will be up this morning?" he asked of the clerk, as he passed through the outer room. The clerk shook his head. "I am unable to say, sir." George went down to the cab, and entered it. "Where to, sir?" asked the driver, as he closed the door. "The South-Western Railway." As the echo of George's footsteps died away on the stairs, Mr. Brompton, first slipping the bolt of the door which led into the clerk's room, opened the door of another room. A double door, thoroughly well padded, deadened all sound between the apartments. It was a larger and more luxurious room still. Two gentlemen were seated in it by a similarly bright fire: though, to look at the face of the one--a young man, whose handkerchief, as it lay carelessly on the table beside him, bore a viscount's coronet--no one would have thought any fire was needed. His face was glowing, and he was talking in angry excitement, but with a tone and manner somewhat subdued, as if he were in the presence of a master, and dared not put forth his metal. In short, he looked something like a caged lion. Opposite to him, listening with cold, imperturbable courtesy, his face utterly impassive, as it ever was, his eyes calm, his yellow hair in perfect order, his moustache trimmed, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair, and the tips of his fingers meeting, on one of which fingers shone a monster diamond of the purest water, was Mr. Verrall. Early as the hour was, glasses and champagne stood on the table. Mr. Brompton telegraphed a sign to Mr. Verrall, and he came out, leaving the viscount to waste his anger upon air. The viscount might rely on one thing: that it was just as good to bestow it upon air as upon Mr. Verrall, for all the impression it would make on the latter. "Godolphin has been here," said Mr. Brompton, keeping the doors carefully closed. "He has followed me to town, then! I thought he might do so. It is of no use my seeing him. If he won't go deeper into the mire, why, the explosion must come." "He must go deeper into it," remarked Mr. Brompton. "He holds out against it, and words seem wasted on him. Where's he gone now?" "Down to your house, I expect. He says he must be back home to-day, but must see you first. I thought you would not care to meet him, so I said I didn't know whether you'd be here or not." Mr. Verrall mused. "Yes, I'll see him. I can't deal with him altogether as I do with others. And he has been a lucky card to us."