Of late, however, it had been rumoured the chance of getting the rich banker to consent to take the seat (this was the way everyone put it) had increased, and that he might be induced to stand at the next vacancy. Then all who knew of his personal qualities, his immense knowledge of finance, and his large fortune, said that if he chose he might be Chancellor of the Exchequer in time; and after his retirement from business, and purchase of an estate, the refusal of a peerage was certain to come his way. As he sat sipping his claret that Monday evening of the 27th of August, 1866, his face was as placid as a secret well. Whether he was thinking of his dead wife and sorrowing for her, or revolving the ordinary matters of his banking business, or devising some scheme for the reduction of taxation in the city, or dallying mentally with the sirens who sought to ensnare him in parliamentary honours, could no more be gathered from his face than from the dull heavy clouds that hung low over the sultry land abroad. It was not often he had to smoke his after-dinner cigar and sip his after-dinner claret alone; men were always glad to dine with him, and he was always glad to have them; but the newness of his black clothes and of the bands on his hats in the hall accounted for the absence of guests. He was not dressed for dinner. One of the things which had made his table so free and jovial was that a man might sit down to it in a coat of any cut or colour, and in top-boots and breeches if he liked. Before his bereavement he would say: "Mrs. Grey--although she may not sit with us--has an antiquated objection to a man dining in his shirt-sleeves. I have often expostulated with her unreasonable prejudice, but I can't get her to concede no coat at all. You may wear your hat and your gloves if you like, but for Heaven's sake come in a coat of some kind. If you can't manage a coat, a jacket will do splendidly." Mrs. Grey never dined out. In fact, she saw little company; tea was always sent into the dining-room. Mr. Grey had not got more than half-way through his cigar on that evening of the 27th of August when a servant knocked and entered. The master, whose face was towards the window, turned round his head slowly, and said in a kindly voice: "Well, James, what is it?" "A man, sir, wants to see you." James was thick-set, low-sized, near-sighted, and dull. He had been a private soldier in a foot regiment, and had been obliged to leave because of his increasing near-sightedness. But he had been long enough in uniform to acquire the accomplishment of strict and literal attention to orders, and the complete suspension of his own faculties of judgment and discretion. Although his master was several inches taller than James, the latter looked in the presence of the banker like a clumsy elephant beside an elegant panther.