"There's your perfectly twee little desk, dear old officer," he said,
pointing to a massive piece of furniture facing his own. "And there's
only one matter to be settled."

He was obviously uncomfortable, and Hamilton would have reached for his
cheque-book, only he knew his Bones much better than to suppose that
such a sordid matter as finance could cause his agitation.

"Ham," said Bones, clearing his throat and speaking with an effort,
"old comrade of a hundred gallant encounters, and dear old friend----"

"What's the game?" asked Hamilton suspiciously.

"There's no game," said the depressed Bones. "This is a very serious
piece of business, my jolly old comrade. As my highly respected
partner, you're entitled to use the office as you like--come in when
you like, go home when you like. If you have a pain in the tum-tum,
dear old friend, just go to bed and trust old Bones to carry on. Use
any paper that's going, help yourself to nibs--you'll find there's some
beautiful nibs in that cupboard--in fact, do as you jolly well like;
but----"

"But?" repeated Hamilton.

"On one point alone, dear old thing," said Bones miserably, yet
heroically, "we do not share."

"What's that?" asked Hamilton, not without curiosity.

"My typewriter is my typewriter," said Bones firmly, and Hamilton
laughed.

"You silly ass!" he said. "I'm not going to play with your typewriter."

"That's just what I mean," said Bones. "You couldn't have put it
better, dear old friend. Thank you."

He strode across the room, gripped Hamilton's hand and wrung it.

"Dear old thing, she's too young," he said brokenly. "Hard life ...
terrible experience... Play with her young affections, dear old thing?
No..."

"Who the dickens are you talking about? You said typewriter."

"I said typewriter," agreed Bones gravely. "I am speaking about my----"

A light dawned upon Hamilton.

"You mean your secretary?"

"I mean my secretary," said Bones.

"Good Heavens, Bones!" scoffed Hamilton. "Of course I shan't bother
her. She's your private secretary, and naturally I wouldn't think of
giving her work."

"Or orders," said Bones gently. "That's a point, dear old thing. I
simply couldn't sit here and listen to you giving her orders. I should
scream. I'm perfectly certain I can trust you, Ham. I know what you
are with the girls, but there are times----"

"You know what I am with the girls?" said the wrathful Hamilton. "What
the dick