He handed Heyton a pen, and Heyton looked at the paper hazily and was about to sign, when Mr. Jacobs, in drawing the inkstand nearer, had the misfortune to upset it. The ink ran over the paper, and over Heyton's fingers. "What the devil!" he exclaimed, angrily. "I beg your pardon, my lord! I'm very sorry; very sorry; it was dreadfully clumsy of me. Dear, dear; it's all over your lordship's hand! Here, wipe it on this, my lord!" In his agitation and embarrassment, Mr. Jacobs actually caught hold of Heyton's hand and pressed it on a sheet of paper. "Tut, tut," he said. "I thought it was blotting-paper! Here it is! I really am so sorry--never did such a thing in my life before!" "Damned clumsy of you!" growled Heyton. "I'm in a beast of a mess! Where's a cloth?" "Pray take my handkerchief, my lord," said Mr. Jacobs, offering it. At this moment, Celia entered the room. She would have drawn back at sight of the two men; but Heyton called to her over his shoulder. "Hi! Have you got a cloth? The ink's upset----" She ran to a drawer and took out a clean duster; and Heyton, swearing under his breath, wiped the remainder of the ink from his fingers. "I'd better go and wash it," he said; and he went out of the room. "Tut, tut!" said Mr. Jacobs. "It was my fault, Miss Grant. I was reaching for the ink, to bring it nearer his lordship, when my sleeve or something caught the corner of the desk here and, before you could say 'Jack Robinson,' the mischief was done." He seemed so greatly distressed and upset by the accident, that Celia quite felt for him. "Oh, it is not a very great matter," she said, soothingly. "There has been no harm done." Indeed, it did seem to her a very trivial affair, compared with the awful tragedy in which they were moving. "I will get a cloth and wipe up the ink; fortunately, it hasn't run on to the carpet." As she spoke, she took up the sheets of writing-paper and blotting paper between her finger and thumb, intending to put them in the waste-paper basket; but, with a kind of apologetic laugh, Mr. Jacobs laid his hand on her arm, and said: "No, don't throw them away! Give them to me, if you will. I should like to keep them as a kind of memento, as a sort of warning for the future not to be so clumsy." With a shadow of a smile, she gave the two pieces of paper to him, and as he took them he said, "I've got my own fingers inked. Serve me right. I'll go and wash my hands. Really, I shall never forgive myself! No wonder his lordship was angry." "Was he?" said Celia, absently. "Yes; he was. But you must remember Lord Heyton is very much upset; when one's nerves are on the rack, the least thing, trifling though it may be----" "Quite so; quite so," said Mr. Jacobs, with a nod of comprehension. He was still so much upset by the accident, that he forgot to wash his hands and went straight to his sitting-room, still carrying the two sheets of paper, the evidences of his inexcusable clumsiness. CHAPTER XXVIII