he retained from
student times was his hollow chuckle of mirth, a laugh which struggled
vainly for enlargement. He dressed with conventional decency, even
submitting to the chimney-pot hat. His features betrayed connection
with a physically coarse stock; but to converse with him was to
discover the man of original vigour and wide intellectual scope. With
ordinary companions, it was a rare thing for him to speak of his
professional interests. But for his position on _The Weekly Post_ it
would not have been easy to surmise how he stood with regard to
politics, and he appeared to lean as often towards the conservative as
to the revolutionary view of abstract questions.

The newspaper left him time for other literary work, and it was known
to a few people that he wrote with some regularity for reviews, but all
the products of his pen were anonymous. A fact which remained his own
secret was that he provided for the subsistence of his parents, old
people domiciled in a quiet corner of their native Kingsmill. The
strict sobriety of life which is indispensable to success in such a
career as this cost him no effort. He smoked moderately, ate and drank
as little as might be, could keep his health on six hours of sleep, and
for an occasional holiday liked to walk his twenty or thirty miles.
Earwaker was naturally marked for survival among the fittest.

On an evening of June in the year '84, he was interrupted whilst
equipping himself for dinner abroad, by a thunderous rat-tat-tat.

'You must wait, my friend, whoever you are,' he murmured placidly, as
he began to struggle with the stiff button-holes of his shirt.

The knock was repeated, and more violently.

'Now there's only one man of my acquaintance who knocks like that,' he
mused, elaborating the bow of his white tie. 'He, I should imagine, is
in Brazil; but there's no knowing. Perhaps our office is on
fire.--Anon, anon!'

He made haste to don waistcoat and swallow-tail, then crossed his
sitting-room and flung open the door of the chambers.

'Ha! Then it _is_ you! I was reminded of your patient habits.'

A tall man, in a light overcoat and a straw hat of spacious brim, had
seized both his hands, with shouts of excited greeting.

'Confound you! Why did you keep me waiting? I thought I had missed you
for the evening. How the deuce are you? And why the devil have you left
me without a line from you for more than six months?'

Earwaker drew aside, and allowed his tumult