ely kind of you to come and see me like this, sir," he said
warmly, after establishing him in the solitary armchair reserved for
hypothetical clients.

"Not at all. I'm afraid your visit to Cottesmore Gardens some time ago
was somewhat of a disappointment."

"A disappointment?" echoed Horace, at a loss to know what was coming
next.

"I refer to the fact--which possibly, however, escaped your
notice"--explained the Professor, scratching his scanty patch of
grizzled whisker with a touch of irascibility, "that I myself was not at
home on that occasion."

"Indeed, I was greatly disappointed," said Horace, "though of course I
know how much you are engaged. It's all the more good of you to spare
time to drop in for a chat just now."

"I've not come to chat, Mr. Ventimore. I never chat. I wanted to see you
about a matter which I thought you might be so obliging as to---- But I
observe you are busy--probably too busy to attend to such a small
affair."

It was clear enough now; the Professor was going to build, and had
decided--could it be at Sylvia's suggestion?--to entrust the work to
him! But he contrived to subdue any self-betraying eagerness, and reply
(as he could with perfect truth) that he had nothing on hand just then
which he could not lay aside, and that if the Professor would let him
know what he required, he would take it up at once.

"So much the better," said the Professor; "so much the better. Both my
wife and daughter declared that it was making far too great a demand
upon your good nature; but, as I told them, 'I am much mistaken,' I
said, 'if Mr. Ventimore's practice is so extensive that he cannot leave
it for one afternoon----'"

Evidently it was not a house. Could he be needed to escort them
somewhere that afternoon? Even that was more than he had hoped for a few
minutes since. He hastened to repeat that he was perfectly free that
afternoon.

"In that case," said the Professor, beginning to fumble in all his
pockets--was he searching for a note in Sylvia's handwriting?--"in that
case, you will be conferring a real favour on me if you can make it
convenient to attend a sale at Hammond's Auction Rooms in Covent Garden,
and just bid for one or two articles on my behalf."

Whatever disappointment Ventimore felt, it may be said to his credit
that he allowed no sign of it to appear. "Of course I'll go, with
pleasure," he said, "if I can be of any use."

"I knew I shouldn't come to you in vain," said