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without glance or word, Mr. Thistlethwaite being too intent on watching Mr. Hollis’ brown, studious face.
    As soon as Mr. Thistlethwaite had gone out of the glass-panelled door, Mr. Hollis let fly with his real opinion.
    “Thistlethwaite’s a first-class bloody fool, Downham! How can the great ass fight the Metropolitan in the courts for wrongful dismissal, since they’ve given him the excuse of reorganisation and redundancy, and offered him six months’ screw? Well, I tried to tell the silly blighter many times, but he won’t listen. What the devil are you beaming at me for, young Maddison? Get on with your work, you look like one of your own stuffed birds, you horrible taxidermist, you!”
    Phillip had been unconscious of beaming at Mr. Hollis: he liked Mr. Hollis’ face, and was always interested in what he said. Mr. Hollis was already frowning over his own work, so he went on preparing his policy, after a glance at the clock. His time of leaving for Head Office first luncheon was ten minutes to twelve; he had to be back again by half-past.
    Downham left for his luncheon at a quarter-past twelve. He was supposed to be back by ten-past one, but he usually arrivedback any time up to half-past one, the time when Mr. Howlett came down the leaden stairs, smoking his pipe; and, after an amiable word to Phillip, and smiling talk with Downham, went to his luncheon, usually at the London Tavern. Mr. Howlett’s time of returning, smoking the same pipe, was between a quarter to three and three o’clock.
    “Lazy blighter,” remarked Mr. Hollis once, to Phillip. “If I didn’t stir my stumps and do most of his work for him, this branch would have to close down.” Downham, on the other hand, never criticised Mr. Howlett, but treated him like a favourite uncle, always careful to call him ‘sir’.
    “Hollis is jealous of Howlett,” said Downham once, quietly, to Phillip, with a kind of satisfaction. The two were alone, Edgar having gone to a sandwich shop in Leadenhall Market for his twopenny meal—cheese sandwich and cup of Camp coffee. “Hollis likes to please himself, so Howlett gives him his head. On the other hand, Hollis thinks that Howlett ought to go out more after new business. I say, look at this! How dare you! Why in the name of all that’s not insane did you sign this endorsement like that?”
    Looking angry suddenly, Downham brought over two policies, both with printed change-of-address labels stuck on the back—
notwithstanding anything herein contained to the contrary, it is hereby agreed and allowed that the Insured’s address shall be deemed to be as hereinunder stated.
The first endorsement was signed by Phillip with an enormous scrawled signature six inches long, in letters an inch high. “Is this your idea of a joke?” He pointed to the second endorsement, signed with extreme neatness in minute letters barely one-eighth of an inch high, and three-quarters of an inch in length. The first policy was one of Mr. L. Dicks, the fish-and-chips smeller; the second for the neat Mr. J. Konigswinter.
    After Downham’s complaint, he put on a subdued expression and went on with his work. When Mr. Howlett came in, Downham showed him the two endorsements.
    “Look at this, sir, did you ever see such asinine behaviour?” Mr. Howlett appeared to be highly amused. “I’ve ticked him off, sir,” said Downham, in lowered voice.
    “I see,” replied Mr. Howlett, nodding to Phillip, as he went up the leaden stairs to his room. This was a dark place, being lit from the Lane outside only along the floor by the toparc of the bow window below. When Mr. Howlett was there, the electric light was always switched on.
    Mr. Hollis wrote three of the letters which had to be copied by Phillip every afternoon for Mr. Howlett’s one. All were in copying ink, from which an impression was taken when they were laid between damped flimsy sheets in the big leather-bound book and screwed down in the basement press. The letters