id Ventimore; "I never heard you come in."

His visitor could only wave his head in courteous deprecation, under
which there seemed a suspicion of bewildered embarrassment. He was a
rosy-gilled, spotlessly clean, elderly gentleman, with white whiskers;
his eyes, just then slightly protuberant, were shrewd, but genial; he
had a wide, jolly mouth and a double chin. He was dressed like a man who
is above disguising his prosperity; he wore a large, pear-shaped pearl
in his crimson scarf, and had probably only lately discarded his summer
white hat and white waistcoat.

"My dear sir," he began, in a rich, throaty voice, as soon as he could
speak; "my dear sir, you must think this is a most unceremonious way
of--ah!--dropping in on you--of invading your privacy."

"Not at all," said Horace, wondering whether he could possibly intend
him to understand that he had come in by the window. "I'm afraid there
was no one to show you in--my clerk is away just now."

"No matter, sir, no matter. I found my way up, as you perceive. The
important, I may say the essential, fact is that I _am_ here."

"Quite so," said Horace, "and may I ask what brought you?"

"What brought----" The stranger's eyes grew fish-like for the moment.
"Allow me, I--I shall come to that--in good time. I am still a
little--as you can see." He glanced round the room. "You are, I think,
an architect, Mr. ah--Mr. um----?"

"Ventimore is my name," said Horace, "and I _am_ an architect."

"Ventimore, to be sure!" he put his hand in his pocket and produced a
card: "Yes, it's all quite correct: I see I have the name here. And an
architect, Mr. Ventimore, so I--I am given to understand, of immense
ability."

"I'm afraid I can't claim to be that," said Horace, "but I may call
myself fairly competent."

"Competent? Why, of _course_ you're competent. Do you suppose, sir, that
I, a practical business man, should come to any one who was _not_
competent?" he said, with exactly the air of a man trying to convince
himself--against his own judgment--that he was acting with the utmost
prudence.

"Am I to understand that some one has been good enough to recommend me
to you?" inquired Horace.

"Certainly, not, sir, certainly not. _I_ need no recommendation but my
own judgment. I--ah--have a tolerable acquaintance with all that is
going on in the art world, and I have come to the conclusion,
Mr.--eh--ah--Ventimore, I repeat, the deliberate and unassisted
conclusion, that