‘Mr Jimson,’ she cried, ’Mr Jimson! here, come!—­you must come, you know, sooner or later, for I can’t get off without you.  O, don’t be so exceedingly silly!  O, please, come!’

Still there was no reply.

‘If he is here he must be mad,’ she thought, with a little fear.  And the next moment she remembered he had probably gone aboard like herself in a boat.  In that case she might as well see the houseboat, and she pushed open the door and stepped in.  Under the table, where he lay smothered with dust, Gideon’s heart stood still.

There were the remains of Jimson’s lunch.  ’He likes rather nice things to eat,’ she thought.  ’O, I am sure he is quite a delightful man.  I wonder if he is as good-looking as Mr Forsyth.  Mrs Jimson—­I don’t believe it sounds as nice as Mrs Forsyth; but then “Gideon” is so really odious!  And here is some of his music too; this is delightful.  Orange Pekoe—­O, that’s what he meant by some kind of tea.’  And she trilled with laughter.  ‘Adagio molto espressivo, sempre legato,’ she read next. (For the literary part of a composer’s business Gideon was well equipped.) ’How very strange to have all these directions, and only three or four notes!  O, here’s another with some more.  Andante patetico.’  And she began to glance over the music.  ‘O dear me,’ she thought, ’he must be terribly modern!  It all seems discords to me.  Let’s try the air.  It is very strange, it seems familiar.’  She began to sing it, and suddenly broke off with laughter.  ’Why, it’s “Tommy make room for your Uncle!"’ she cried aloud, so that the soul of Gideon was filled with bitterness.  ’Andante patetico, indeed!  The man must be a mere impostor.’

And just at this moment there came a confused, scuffling sound from underneath the table; a strange note, like that of a barn-door fowl, ushered in a most explosive sneeze; the head of the sufferer was at the same time brought smartly in contact with the boards above; and the sneeze was followed by a hollow groan.

Julia fled to the door, and there, with the salutary instinct of the brave, turned and faced the danger.  There was no pursuit.  The sounds continued; below the table a crouching figure was indistinctly to be seen jostled by the throes of a sneezing-fit; and that was all.

‘Surely,’ thought Julia, ’this is most unusual behaviour.  He cannot be a man of the world!’

Meanwhile the dust of years had been disturbed by the young barrister’s convulsions; and the sneezing-fit was succeeded by a passionate access of coughing.

Julia began to feel a certain interest.  ’I am afraid you are really quite ill,’ she said, drawing a little nearer.  ’Please don’t let me put you out, and do not stay under that table, Mr Jimson.  Indeed it cannot be good for you.’

Mr Jimson only answered by a distressing cough; and the next moment the girl was on her knees, and their faces had almost knocked together under the table.