She vanished and closed the door behind her.  ’Bias found a chair, seated himself, and filled his pipe very slowly and thoughtfully.  Mr Rogers waited.

“The business that brings me—­” ’Bias paused, struck a match and lit up—­“ain’t quite the ordinary business.”

“No?”

“No.”  For a few seconds ’Bias appeared to be musing.  “In fact you might call it a—­a sort o’ flutter.  That’s the word—­ain’t it?—­when you take a bit o’ money and play venturesome with it, against your usual habits.”

“Ay?” Mr Rogers looked at him sharply.  “When I say venturesome,” continued ’Bias, “you’ll understand I don’t mean foolhardy. . . .  Nothin’ o’ the sort.  I want to hear o’ something tolerably safe, into which a man might put a small sum he happened to have lyin’ about.”

“What sort of investment?”

“Ay, that’s just what I want you to tell me.  Ten per cent, we’ll say, an’ no more’n a moderate risk. . . .  I reckoned as a man like you might know, maybe, o’ half a dozen things o’ the sort.”

“What’s the amount?” Mr Rogers’s eyes, that had opened wide for a moment, narrowed themselves upon him in a curiosity that hid some humour.

“Put it at a hundred pound.”

“Oh!—­er—­I mean, is that all?”

“You see,” exclaimed ‘Bias.  “You mustn’ run away wi’ the notion that I ain’t satisfied as things are.  Four and five per cent—­and that’s what you get for me—­does best in the main.  I can live within the income and sleep o’ nights.  But once in a way—­”

“Ay,” interrupted Mr Rogers, “and more especially when it’s to oblige a friend.”

’Bias withdrew the pipe from his mouth and stared.  “You’re a clever one, too! . . .  Well, and I don’t mind you’re knowin’.  ’Tis a relief, in a way:  for now you know I’m pleased enough with your dealins’ on my own account.”

“Thank ‘ee.  I’m not askin’ no names.”

“As to that, I’d rather not mention the name, either.  But I’d be very glad o’ your advice:  for ‘tis important to me, in a way o’ speakin’!”

Mr Rogers nodded.  “If that’s so,” said he, “you must give me a little time to think.  There’s mortgages, o’ course:  and there’s deals to be done in shipping:  and there’s money-lendin,—­though you’d object to that, maybe. . . .  Anyway, you come to me to-morrow, and I may have something to propose.”

“Thank ’ee.  I take that as friendly.”

“Right.”  Mr Rogers let drop a trembling half-paralysed hand towards the newspaper which lay on the floor beside his chair.  “Would ye mind—­”

’Bias stepped forward and picked it up for him.

“Thank ‘ee.  No:  I want you to keep it. . . .  I’m goin’ to do a thing that’s friendlier yet:  though it be a risk.  Open the paper at the middle sheet—­right-hand side, an’ look out a column headed ‘Troy News.’ . . .  Got it?”

“Half a moment—­Yes,’ Troy News’—­Here we are!”