Finally it was decided that Mr. Wetherell and Beckenham should go home to pack, while I made one or two other small purchases, and then joined them. Accordingly bidding them good-bye, I went on down the street, did my business, and was about to hail a cab and follow them, when a thought struck me: Why should I not visit Messrs. Dawson & Gladman, and find out why they were advertising for me? This I determined to do, and accordingly set off for Castlereagh Street. Before very long I had discovered their office, and went inside.
In a small room leading off the main passage, three clerks were seated. To them I addressed myself, asking if I might see the partners.
"Mr. Dawson is the only one in, sir," said the boy to whom I spoke." If you'll give me your name I'll take it in to him."
"My name is Hatteras," I said, "Mr. Richard Hatteras."
"Indeed, sir," answered the boy. "If you'll wait Mr. Dawson will see you in a minute I'm sure."
On hearing my name the other clerks had begun whispering together, at the same time throwing furtive glances in my direction.
In considerably less than two minutes the clerk returned, and begged me to follow him, which I did. At the end of a long passage we passed through a curtained doorway, and I stood in the presence of the chief partner, Mr. Dawson. He was a short, podgy man, with white whiskers and a bald head, and painfully precise.
"I have great pleasure in making your acquaintance, Mr. Hatteras," he said. "You have noticed our advertisement, I presume?"
