“Well!” “Well, we’ve lowered our price to theirs, but we are doing business at a loss. We hoped to burst them, but they don’t burst: there’s somebody backing them, confound them, for Rastrick & Codley ain’t worth a sixpence; but who it is the Lord only knows. I don’t believe they know themselves.” “That is unfortunate, but what about it?” “Just this, Cardus. I want to ask your advice about selling out. Our credit is still good, and we could sell up for a large pile—not so large as we could have done, but still large—and I don’t know whether to sell or hold.” Mr. Cardus looked thoughtful. “It is a difficult point, Mr. de Talor, but for myself I am always against caving in. The other firm may smash after all, and then you would be sorry. If you were to sell now you would probably make their fortunes, which I suppose you don’t want to do.” “No, indeed.” “Then you are a very wealthy man; you are not dependent on this grease business. Even if things were to go wrong, you have all your landed property here at Ceswick’s Ness to fall back on. I should hold, if I were you, even if it was at a loss for a time, and trust to the fortune of war.” Mr. de Talor gave a sigh of relief. “That’s my view, too, Cardus. You are a shrewd man, and I am glad you jump with me. Damn Rastrick & Codley, say I!” “O yes, damn them by all means,” answered the lawyer, with a smile, as he rose to show his client to the door. On the farther side of the passage was another door, with a glass top to it, which gave on to a room furnished after the ordinary fashion of a clerk’s office. Opposite this door Mr. de Talor stopped to look at a man who was within, sitting at a table writing. The man was old, of large size, very powerfully built, and dressed with extreme neatness in hunting costume—boots, breeches, spurs, and all. Over his large head grew tufts of coarse gray hair, which hung down in dishevelled locks about his face, giving him a wild appearance, that was added to by a curious distortion of the mouth. His left arm, too, hung almost helpless by his side. Mr. Cardus laughed as he followed his visitor’s gaze. “A curious sort of clerk, eh?” he said. “Mad, dumb, and half-paralysed—not many lawyers could show such another.” Mr. de Talor glanced at the object of their observation uneasily. “If he’s so mad, how can he do clerk’s work?” he asked. “O, he’s only mad in a way; he copies beautifully.” “He has quite lost his memory, I suppose?” said De Talor, with another uneasy glance. “Yes,” answered Mr. Cardus, with a smile, “he has. Perhaps it is as well. He remembers nothing now but his delusions.” Mr. de Talor looked relieved. “He has been with you many years now, hasn’t he, Cardus?” “Yes, a great many.” “Why did you bring him ’ere at all?”