As Mr. M. A. Dodson pursued his meritorious way towards the basement of the famous building, he took occasion to knock at the door of the adjoining room. “Enter,” said a clear official tone. “Mr. Davis,” said Mr. Dodson, with a formidable politeness as he entered, and laying an unmistakable stress upon the prefix, “I have the honour to inform you that your goose is already cooked. Perhaps you will have the condescension to look at this.” With immemorial calm Mr. M. Arnold Dodson disclosed for the edification of Mr. G. Eliot Davis, the fly-leaf of the volume he carried. A short exclamation of surprise and incredulity escaped the lips of that young gentleman, which Mr. Dodson did not pause to elucidate. As the thin, tall, melancholy but intellectual form of Mr. Walter Pater Walkinshaw wended its way up-stairs, Mr. Dodson turned to William Jordan, Junior, with a Napoleonic air. “Luney,” he said, “you can fetch me the time-book.” William Jordan, Junior, descended from his stool obediently. Mr. Dodson, with the aid of a ruler and some red ink, crossed out the name of M. Arnold Dodson from the current page of that work, and wrote thereunder, _G. Eliot Davis 8.30, vice M. Arnold Dodson gone up-stairs_. No sooner had Mr. Dodson performed this operation than Mr. W. P. Walkinshaw returned to that sphere over which he presided with so much distinction, and said in his kind but cultivated voice, “Mr. Dodson, Mr. Octavius will be glad if you will go up and see him.” “I will, sir,” said Mr. Dodson in a tone which, subdued as it was, resounded through the counting-house. As for the second time within a very short period Mr. Dodson took his meritorious way up the familiar stairs to Mount Olympus, he knocked again on the door of Mr. G. Eliot Davis. “Mr. Davis,” said Mr. Dodson, thrusting in his head, “prepare to receive cavalry.” Before Mr. Davis could demand the meaning of this enigmatic injunction, Mr. Dodson had entered the august presence yet again. Mr. Octavius Crumpett was seated _in pontificalibus_ with the glass in his benign right eye, and the tips of his white and beautifully-kept hands pressed together.