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paused for a moment and said, "Good morning, Mr. Hogg'; and the man stood up quickly, saying,
    " Oh, Good morning, Mr. Blenheim. And it is a morning, isn't it?
    How did you manage to get the car in? Mr. Waters has just phoned to say he can't get his car out of his gate and if he could he wouldn't dare risk it down the hill. "
    "Oh, I carried mine," said Harry laughing, and Mr. Hogg laughed too.
    He was the only man in Peamarsh's who gave the outer clerk, as the man was called, the title of mister. To the other members of the staff, according to their positions, he was Hogg, Charlie or Dogsbody; the last, mostly from the men in the packing departments on the ground floor and in the basement.
    Before he entered his office he had to pass a glass partitioned room which housed four typists and was given the glorified term of pool.
    The members of the pool this morning weren't sitting industriously at their desks but gathered together in the middle of the room looking at something that one of them held in a small square box. A shadow passing their window brought their heads round apprehensively; then seeing who it was they smiled and nodded and mouthed, "Good morning, Mr. Blen heim." Ana J-iarry nuuucu ua>-n. >. >-> 1. 1. 1^111.
    An engagement ring in that box, he bet; likely belonging to the tall blonde. Miss Rice, wasn't it. Yes, Miss Rice. Well, he hoped she'd keep house better than she took down dictation. He'd had her once when Ada was off sick. Which reminded him; he hoped Ada was in this morning. Although there wouldn't be much work done on the premises today, he had one or two things he wanted to get off, but if that cold of hers hadn't eased she would have likely taken his advice and stayed in bed.
    She had. His office was empty when he entered and the door to the little cubby-hole which was his private secretary's domain was closed.
    It was always open for the first half-hour of the day while she bustled backwards and forwards from his desk to hers.
    He had hardly gofMiis coat off when the phone rang. He picked it up and heard his father-in-law's secretary, Miss Bate- man nicknamed The Paragon, say, "Mr. Blenheim?"
    "Yes."
    "This is Miss Bateman speaking."
    "Yes ?" he said again.
    "Miss Cole has phoned to say that her cold has got worse and she won't be in this morning."
    "Thank you, Miss Bateman."
    "I'll send someone from the pool."
    "Very well. Thank you." He almost added laughingly, "But don't let it be the blonde, she'll be very preoccupied today." But he was dealing with Miss Bateman, and so, instead, he said, "There's no hurry, I haven't got much to go off."
    "Very well, Mr. Blenheim."
    He put the phone down and walked to the window. It was coming down harder than ever now; he couldn't see the clock on Howard's, the jewellers, across the street. If it wasn't for the party this afternoon he would have those letters off and get home while the going was good, for if this kept up till dinner-time all cars, those that had got in, would be bogged down.
    He had just seated himself behind his desk when there came a tap on the door and he said, "Come in." And when he saw; Tim Whelan enter the room, he exclaimed on a surprised note, "Why, hello 1 What's brought you indoors without being dragged? Sit down, sit down." He pointed to a chair.
    Jim Whelan was known as the outside man. His title was appropriate, for most of his work dealt with estimates and valuations. He was not quite a chartered accountant, not having stayed the course long enough to pass his exams; he was not quite an estate agent and valuer, having no private business of his own; but he was a bit of both, and a number of other things besides. He had been with Peamarsh's for thirty years and Harry had the idea that the longer he stayed the less he liked it.
    As he had once said to Harry, "It was all right when they stuck to their own line but now you don't know where you are." Recently he had been dangerously loud in his condemnation of the firm when they had