It was before the shabby door of a sloping-roofed back attic that I paused for a moment to knock, Stephen Hallett's clear, calm voice uttering a loud "Come in," and I entered to find him seated before a large old deal kitchen table, upon which were strewed various tools, pieces of iron and brass, old clock-wheels, and spindles. At one end was fitted a vice, and at the other end what seemed to be the model of some machine--or rather, a long, flat set of clock-works, upon which Hallett was evidently engaged. "Well, Antony," he said, looking up at me in a weary, disappointed way; "glad to see you, my boy." "Why, you are busy," I exclaimed, looking with all a boy's curiosity at the model, or whatever it was before me. "Yes," he said, "I generally am. Well," he added, after a pause, as he seemed to derive rest and amusement from my curiosity, "what do you think of my sweetheart?" "Your sweetheart?" "Yes, my sweetheart, of which poor mother is so jealous. There she is." "I--I don't understand you," I said. "Well, the object of my worship--the thing on which I lavish so much time, thought, and money." "Is--is that it?" I said. "That's it," he replied, enjoying my puzzled looks. "What do you think of it?" I was silent for a few moments, gazing intently at the piece of mechanism before I said: "I don't know." "Look here, Antony," he said, rising and sweeping away some files and pieces of brass before seating himself upon the edge of the table: "do you know why we are friends?" "No, but you have been very kind to me." "Have I?" he said. "Well, I have enjoyed it if I have. Antony, you are a gentleman's son." I nodded. "And you know the meaning of the word honour?" "I hope so." "You do, Antony; and it has given me great pleasure to find that, without assuming any fine airs, you have settled down steadily to your work amongst rough boys and ignorant prejudiced men without losing any of the teachings of your early life." I looked at him, wondering what he was about to say. "Now look here, Antony, my boy," he continued; "I am going to put implicit faith in your honour, merely warning you that if you talk about what you have seen here you may do me a very serious injury. You understand?" "Oh yes, Mr Hallett," I cried; "you may depend upon me." "I do, Antony," he said; "so let's have no more of that formal `Mr' Let it be plain `yes' and `no;' and now, mind this, I am going to open out before you my secret. Henceforth it will be our secret. Is it to be so?" "Yes--oh yes!" I exclaimed, flushing with pride that a man to whom I had looked up should have so much confidence in me. "That's settled, then," he said, shaking hands with me. "And now, Antony, once more, what do you think of my model?" I had a good look at the contrivance as it stood upon the table, while Hallett watched me curiously, and with no little interest. "It's a puzzle," I said at last. "Do you give it up?"