So different from human nature in London, where nobody
ever dreams of offering even a match to a municipal official, lest the
act might be construed into an insult.

It was on a Saturday morning that Mrs Codleyn called to impart to Mr
Duncalf the dissatisfaction with which she had learned the news (printed
on a bit of bluish paper) that her rateable value, far from being
reduced, had been slightly augmented.

The interview, as judged by the clerks through a lath-and-plaster wall
and by means of a speaking tube, atoned by its vivacity for its lack of
ceremony. When the stairs had finished creaking under the descent of Mrs
Codleyn's righteous fury, Mr Duncalf whistled sharply twice. Two
whistles meant Denry. Denry picked up his shorthand note-book and obeyed
the summons.

"Take this down!" said his master, rudely and angrily.

Just as though Denry had abetted Mrs Codleyn! Just as though Denry was
not a personage of high importance in the town, the friend of
countesses, and a shorthand clerk only on the surface.

"Do you hear?"

"Yes, sir."

"MADAM"--hitherto it had always been "Dear Madam," or "Dear Mrs
Codleyn"--"MADAM,--Of course I need hardly say that if, after our
interview this morning, and your extraordinary remarks, you wish to
place your interests in other hands, I shall be most happy to hand over
all the papers, on payment of my costs. Yours truly ... To Mrs Codleyn."

Denry reflected: "Ass! Why doesn't he let her cool down?" Also: "He's
got 'hands' and 'hand' in the same sentence. Very ugly. Shows what a
temper he's in!" Shorthand clerks are always like that--hypercritical.
Also: "Well, I jolly well hope she does chuck him! Then I shan't have
those rents to collect." Every Monday, and often on Tuesday, too, Denry
collected the rents of Mrs Codleyn's cottages--an odious task for Denry.
Mr Duncalf, though not affected by its odiousness, deducted 7-1/2 per
cent. for the job from the rents.

"That'll do," said Mr Duncalf.

But as Denry was leaving the room Mr Duncalf called with formidable
brusqueness--

"Machin!"

"Yes, sir?"

In a flash Denry knew what was coming. He felt sickly that a crisis had
supervened with the suddenness of a tidal wave. And for one little
second it seemed to him that to have danced with a countess while the
flower of Bursley's chivalry watched in envious wonder was not, after
all, the key to the door of success throughout life.

Undoubtedly he had practised fraud in sendi