"A man wants to see me!" cried Mr. Grey, in astonishment, not unmixed with a sense of the ridiculous. "What kind of a man? and what is his business." He glanced good-humouredly at James, but owing to the shortness of the servant's sight the expression of the master's face was wasted in air. James, who had but a small stock of observation and no fancy, replied respectfully: "He seems a common man, sir; like a man you'd see in the street." "Ah," said Mr. Grey, with a smile; "that sort of man, is it? Ah! Which, James, do you mean: the sort of man you'd see walking in the streets, or standing at a public-house corner?" Again Mr. Grey smiled at the droll dulness and droller simplicity of his servant. A gleam of light came into James's dim eyes upon finding the description narrowed down to the selection of one of two characteristics, and he said, in a voice of solemn sagacity: "The back of his coat is dirty, sir, as if he'd been leaning against a public-house wall." "Or as if he had been carrying a sack of corn on his back?" demanded the master, laughing softly, and brushing imaginary cigar-ashes off the polished oak-table with his white curved little finger. For a moment James stood on his heels in stupefied doubt and dismay at this close questioning. He was a man of action, not of thought. Had his master shouted, "Right wheel--quick march!" he would have gone out of the window, through the glass, without a murmur and without a thought of reproach; but to be thus interrogated on subtleties of appearance made him feel like a blindfold man, who is certain he is about to be attacked, but does not know where, by whom, or with what weapon. He resolved to risk all and escape. "I think, sir, it was a public-house, for I smelt liquor." "That is conclusive," said the master, laughing out at last. "That is all right, James. I am too lazy to go down to see him. Show him up here. Stop a moment, James. Let him come up in five minutes." The servant left the room, and as he did so the master laughed still more loudly, and then chuckled softly to himself, muttering: "He thought the man had been leaning against a public-house because he smelt of liquor! Ha, ha, ha! My quaint James, you will be the death of your master. You will, indeed." When he had finished his laugh he dismissed the idea of James finally with a roguish shrug of his shoulders and wag of his head. Then he drew down the gasalier, pushed an enormous easy-chair in front of the empty fire-place, pulled a small table between the dining-table and the easy-chair, and placed an ordinary oak and green dining-room chair at the corner of the dining-table near the window; then he sat down on the ordinary chair.