e there might be an accident,
but with him and Mrs. Wiles both off the premises at night, it's hardly
likely; and I never let the bag out of my sight while it's in the room
with them, hardly out of my hand."

"I should like to trust him, but it's hardly fair to put such a strain on
his loyalty."

"Much safer not, sir, as long as we're not driven to it. After all
though, I believe the fellow is out to redeem his character, his isn't an
unblemished record."

"But the work, the physical labor, entailed on you, Hector!"

"Make yourself easy about that, sir. I'm as strong as a horse. The work's
good for me. Remember I've had four years' service."

Mr. Saffron smiled pensively. "It would have been funny if we'd met over
there! You and I!"

"It would, sir," laughed Beaumaroy. "But that could hardly have happened
without some very curious accident."

The old man harked back. "Yes, a few more good consignments, and we can
think in earnest of your start." He was warming his hands, thin yellowish
hands, at the fire now, and his gaze was directed into it. Looking down
on him, Beaumaroy allowed a smile to appear on his lips, a queer smile,
which seemed to be compounded of affection, pity, and amusement.

"The difficulties there remain considerable for the present," he
remarked.

"They must be overcome." Once again the old man's voice became sharp and
even dictatorial.

"They shall be, sir, depend on it." Beaumaroy's air was suddenly
confident, almost braggart. Mr. Saffron nodded approvingly. "But, anyhow,
I can't very well start till favorable news comes from--"

"Hush!" There was a knock on the door.

"Mrs. Wiles, to lay the table, I suppose."

"Yes! Come in!" He added hastily to Beaumaroy, in an undertone. "Yes, we
must wait for that."

Mrs. Wiles entered as he spoke. She was a colorless, negative kind of a
woman, fair, fat, flabby, and forty or thereabouts. She had been the
ill-used slave of a local carpenter, now deceased by reason of
over-drinking; her nature was to be the slave of the nearest male
creature, not from affection (her affections were anemic) but rather, as
it seemed, from an instinctive desire to shuffle off from herself any
responsibility. But, at all events, she was entirely free from Miss Delia
Wall's proclivity.

Mr. Saffron rose. "I'll go and wash my hands. We'll dine just as we are,
Hector." Beaumaroy opened the door for him; he acknowledged the attention
with a little nod, and passed out