say, but I greatly fear that one or
both of these gentlemen will be quite likely to resign if we treat
them in so very summary a fashion.'

'No! Do you really think that?' asked Arncliffe, so earnestly that I
felt my chance of having a room to myself was irretrievably lost.

'I do indeed, Mr. Arncliffe. You see, these gentlemen have been
accustomed for very many years to--well, to a considerable amount of
deference, and----'

'Well, then, in that case, I'll tell you what, Hutchens; put 'em both
in the other old gentleman's room upstairs, will you? Mr. Thingummy's,
you know, who specialises on Egyptology. I know he's got a nice room,
because he insisted on my drinking a glass of port there the other
night. Port always upsets me. Put 'em both in there, will you? Then
we'll give one of these rooms to L----, and you might let Freydon here
start work in the other right away, will you? By Jove! If you're only
right, you know, that will simplify matters immensely. An excellent
idea of yours, Hutchens. I'm no end obliged to you.'

'But, Mr. Arncliffe, I really----'

'Right you are! I'll see you later about that last forme question.
Look in in about an hour, will you? I must bolt now--half a dozen
people waiting. You'll get the letters from my secretary, Freydon,
won't you? Come and see me whenever you've got any suggestions. Always
ready for suggestions, any time!'

His last words reached us faintly from the staircase.

'Tut, tut!' said Mr. Hutchens. 'I am afraid these violent upheavals
will make for a good deal of trouble; a good deal of trouble.
However!' And then he glared formidably upon me, as who should say:
'At least, _you_ cannot give me any orders. Let me see you open your
mouth, you confounded newcomer, and I will smite you to the earth with
a managerial thunderbolt!'

'Well,' said I cheerfully, 'I'd better go and fetch those letters. And
which of these rooms would you prefer me to take?'

'I would prefer, sir, that you took neither of them. But as Dr.
Powell's gout is very bad, and he is therefore not likely to be here
this week, you had better occupy this room--for the present.'

The emphasis he laid on these last words seemed meant to convey to me
a sense of the extreme precariousness of my tenure of any room in that
building, if not of existence in the same city.

'I trust you understand that this choice of rooms is no affair of
mine,' I said.

I thought his frozen expression showed a hint of softe