“I meant to come before,” said Hardy, “but I’ve been so busy.  How are you?”

Mr. Wilks, still dazed, muttered that he was very well.  Then he sat bolt upright in his chair and eyed his visitor suspiciously.

“I’ve been longing for a chat with you about old times,” said Hardy; “of all my old friends you seem to have changed the least.  You don’t look a day older.”

“I’m getting on,” said Mr. Wilks, trying to speak coldly, but observing with some gratification the effect produced upon his neighbours by the appearance of this well-dressed acquaintance.

“I wanted to ask your advice,” said the unscrupulous Hardy, speaking in low tones.  “I daresay you know I’ve just gone into partnership in Sunwich, and I’m told there’s no man knows more about the business and the ins and outs of this town than you do.”

Mr. Wilks thawed despite himself.  His face glistened and his huge mouth broke into tremulous smiles.  For a moment he hesitated, and then noticing that a little group near them had suspended their conversation to listen to his he drew his chair back and, in a kind voice, invited the searcher after wisdom to step inside.

Hardy thanked him, and, following him in, took a chair behind the door, and with an air of youthful deference bent his ear to catch the pearls which fell from the lips of his host.  Since he was a babe on his mother’s knee sixty years before Mr. Wilks had never had such an attentive and admiring listener.  Hardy sat as though glued to his chair, one eye on Mr. Wilks and the other on the clock, and it was not until that ancient timepiece struck the hour that the ex-steward suddenly realized the awkward state of affairs.

“Any more ’elp I can give you I shall always be pleased to,” he said, looking at the clock.

Hardy thanked him at great length, wondering, as he spoke, whether Miss Nugent was of punctual habits.  He leaned back in his chair and, folding his arms, gazed thoughtfully at the perturbed Mr. Wilks.

“You must come round and smoke a pipe with me sometimes,” he said, casually.

Mr. Wilks flushed with gratified pride.  He had a vision of himself walking up to the front door of the Hardys, smoking a pipe in a well-appointed room, and telling an incredulous and envious Fullalove Alley about it afterwards.

“I shall be very pleased, sir,” he said, impressively.

“Come round on Tuesday,” said his visitor.  “I shall be at home then.”

Mr. Wilks thanked him and, spurred on to hospitality, murmured something about a glass of ale, and retired to the back to draw it.  He came back with a jug and a couple of glasses, and draining his own at a draught, hoped that the example would not be lost upon his visitor.  That astute person, however, after a modest draught, sat still, anchored to the half-empty glass.

“I’m expecting somebody to-night,” said the ex-steward, at last.