vably entered the
precincts of his home, but nobody ever referred to them; nobody ever
sniffed apprehensively nor asked anybody else whether there was not
a smell of fire. The discreetness of the silence was disconcerting.
Happily his relations with that angel his wife were excellent. She
had carried angelicism so far as not to insist on the destruction of
Carlo; and she had actually applauded, while sticking to her white
apron, the sudden and startling extravagances of his toilette.

On the whole, though little short of thirty-five thousand pounds would
ultimately be involved--not to speak of a liability of nearly three
thousand a year for sixty-four years for ground-rent--Edward Henry was
not entirely gloomy as to his prospects. He was, indubitably thinner
in girth; novel problems and anxieties, and the constant annoyance
of being in complete technical ignorance of his job, had removed some
flesh. (And not a bad thing, either!) But on the other hand his
chin exhibited one proof that life was worth living, and that he had
discovered new faith in life and a new conviction of youthfulness.

He had shaved off his beard.

"Well, sir!" a voice greeted him full of hope and cheer, immediately
his feet touched the platform.

It was the voice of Mr. Marrier. Edward Henry and Mr. Marrier were now
in regular relations. Before Edward Henry had paid his final bill at
Wilkins's and relinquished his valet and his electric brougham, and
disposed for ever of his mythical "man" on board the Minnetonka, and
got his original luggage away from the Hotel Majestic, Mr. Marrier had
visited him and made a certain proposition. And such was the influence
of Mr. Marrier's incurable smile and of his solid optimism and of his
obvious talent for getting things done on the spot (as witness the
photography), that the proposition had been accepted. Mr. Marrier was
now Edward Henry's "representative" in London. At the Green Room
Club Mr. Marrier informed reliable cronies that he was Edward Henry's
"confidential adviser." At the Turk's Head, Hanbridge, Edward Henry
informed reliable cronies that Mr. Marrier was a sort of clerk,
factotum, or maid-of-all-work. A compromise between these two very
different conceptions of Mr. Marrier's position had been arrived at
in the word "representative." The real truth was that Edward Henry
employed Mr. Marrier in order to listen to Mr. Marrier. He turned on
Mr. Marrier like a tap, and nourished himself from a gush