indeed which would cause Mr. McAvoy to lose his
aplomb; to neglect to seize the pen and dip it, with a flourish, into the
ink, and extend its handle towards the important guest; to omit a few
fitting words of welcome. It was Hilary who got the pen first, and wrote
his name in silence, and by this time Mr. McAvoy had recovered his
presence of mind sufficiently to wield the blotter.

"We didn't expect you to-night, Mr. Vane," he said, in a voice that
sounded strange to him, "but we've kept Number Seven, as usual. Front!"

"The old man's seen his day, I guess," Mr. McAvoy remarked, as he studied
the register with a lone reporter. "This Crewe must have got in on 'em
hard, from what they tell me, and Adam Hunt has his dander up."

The next morning at ten o'clock, while the workmen were still tacking
down the fireproof carpets in headquarters upstairs, and before even the
advance guard of the armies had begun to arrive, the eye of the clerk was
caught by a tall young man rapidly approaching the desk.

"Is Mr. Hilary Vane here?"

"He's in Number Seven," said Mr. McAvoy, who was cudgelling his brains.
"Give me your card, and I'll send it up."

"I'll go up," said the caller, turning on his heel and suiting the action
to the word, leaving Mr. McAvoy to make active but futile inquiries among
the few travelling men and reporters seated about.

"Well, if you fellers don't know him, I give up," said the clerk,
irritably, "but he looks as if he ought to be somebody. He knows his
business, anyway."

In the meantime Mr. Vane's caller had reached the first floor; he
hesitated just a moment before knocking at the door of Number Seven, and
the Honourable Hilary's voice responded. The door opened.

Hilary was seated, as usual, beside the marble-topped table, which was
covered with newspapers and memoranda. In the room were Mr. Ridout, the
capital lawyer, and Mr. Manning, the division superintendent. There was
an instant of surprised silence on the part of the three, but the
Honourable Hilary was the only one who remained expressionless.

"If you don't mind, gentlemen," said the visitor, "I should like to talk
to my father for a few minutes."

"Why, certainly, Austen," Mr. Ridout replied, with an attempt at
heartiness. Further words seemed to fail him, and he left the room
somewhat awkwardly, followed by Mr. Manning; but the Honourable Hilary
appeared to take no notice of this proceeding.

"Judge," said Austen, when the door had