years ago, not of the most creditable nature, and all the facts relating to which came before me in the course of my official career, are not only perfectly well known to me, but he knows that I know of them, and is aware that 1 could even at this day use them against him if I chose. Consequently he is always exceedingly civil to me, and when, in the course of a conversation between us yesterday, I explained to him assuming as I did so a dangerous look, which I could see had its effect that I should take it exceedingly ill if he did not at once consider this poor woman's claim, and forthwith pay her what he had owed to her husband, he turned very pale, and informed me that since a person on whose judgment he could so entirely rely as he could on mine, was of opinion, after duly considering the claim, that it was a just one, he would at once give up his own view of the case, which had certainly hitherto been opposed to mine, and would without delay discharge the liability. He only begged that he might be spared the annoyance of a personal interview with his creditor, and that I would undertake in my own person to see the widow and transact the business part of the arrangement myself.
"You know," continued Mr. Irwin, "how interested I have always been in this poor soul's and you will believe how readily I undertook the charge. This very afternoon the business is to be brought to a conclusion. I have arranged to call on Harding (who as you know lives close by) at three o'clock, to get the money, and I will then convey it with my own hands to the poor woman as a surprise."
"You have never done a better day's work," I said. "How do you mean to go?"
"I shall walk. It is not above a couple of miles. The path across the fields by Gorfield Copse is the nearest way, isn't it?"
"Yes, by a good deal," I answered. "Would you like a companion?"
"Well, I should like one, certainly," was my friend's answer, "but I feel a little delicacy about introducing a stranger into the business either that with Mr. Harding himself, or with my friend the widow, who is the proudest and most sensitive woman in the world."
I assented to the justice of this objection, and having some letters to write, got up to go, leaving my friend sitting in the summer-house. As I quitted it, turning sharply round to go into the house, I came suddenly upon a man who was emerging from among the shrubs which formed the hack of the little arbour.
He was an occasional helper about the place, and I had noticed him more than once, and not with favour. He was a very peculiar, and, as I thought, a very ill-looking man. He was a shy, slouching sort of creature, who always started and got out of the way when you met him. A man with hollow sunken eyes, a small mean pinched sort of nose, and a prominent savage-looking under jaw, with teeth like tusks, which his beard did nut always conceal. This beard, by-the-by, was one of the most marked characteristics of the man's appearance, it being—as was his hair also—of that flaming red colour which is not very often seen—really red, with no pretensions to those auburn, or chesnut, or golden tints which have become fashionable of late years. The blazing effect of this man's colouring was increased very much by the head-dress he wore: an old cricketing cap of brightest scarlet. He was otherwise dressed in one of those short white canvas shirts or frocks which are much worn by engineers, stokers, and plasterers, over their ordinary clothes. There was a great brown patch of new material let into the front of this garment which showed very conspicuously, even at a distance. His lower extremities were clad in common velveteen trousers, old and worn.
Such was the man who appeared suddenly in my path as I left the summer-house, and who disappeared as suddenly out of it a moment after our encounter, gliding stealthily off in the direction of the kitchen garden.
I saw my good friend Mr. Irwin once more before he started on his beneficent errand. He was in high spirits, and had got himself up in great style for the occasion, with a light-coloured summer over-coat, to keep off the dust, and a white hat. I think he had a flower in his button-hole.
There was one part of Mr. Irwin's equipment a little out of the common way, and this was a butterfly net fixed to the end of a stick. My friend was a most enthusiastic entomologist, and when in the country never stirred without carrying with him this means of securing his favourite specimens. I joked him a little on the introduction of this unusual element into a business transaction, suggesting that Mr. Harding would think that he had brought it as a receptacle for the widow's money. "I must have it with me," said the old gentleman, "for if I ever venture to go out without it I invariably meet with some invaluable specimen which escapes me in a heart-rending manner. But," he added, "I'm not going to let Harding discover my weakness, you may be sure. I'll leave it outside among the bushes, and recover it when the interview is over."
"Well, good luck attend you any way," I called after him, "a successful end to your negotiations, and plenty of butterflies."
The good-hearted old fellow gave me a nod and a smile, and, flourishing his net, was presently off on his mission.
I had what we familiarly call "the fidgets" that afternoon. I could not settle down to anything. Having tried wandering about the garden, I now took, in turn, to wandering about the house, going first into one room and then into another, looking at the pictures, taking up different objects which lay about, and examining them in an entirely purposeless way.
At the top of my friend's house there was a little room in a tower, which was used as a smoking-room, and also as a kind of observatory: my host being in the habit of observing the heavenly bodies through his telescope when favourable occasion offered. I remembered the existence of this apartment now, and
