And then she raised her eyes and looked at him.  To the first glance they were dusky eyes, deep and fathomless, changing swiftly to the blue-black of the northern skies on a clear winter night, and flashing out sharp points of light, like star-rays.  He knew that in that glance he had been weighed, gauged and classed, and, though he was used to questioning Governors and Senators quite unabashed and unafraid, he found himself standing awkward and ill-at-ease in the presence of this woman.

Had she addressed him in Greek or Egyptian, he would have accepted it as a matter of course.  But when she did speak it was in the soft, clear tones of a well-bred Englishwoman, and what she said was commonplace enough.

“I suppose you’ve called to see about the place?” she asked.

“Ye-es,” stammered Simpkins, but with wit enough to know that he had come at an opportune moment.  If there were a place, decidedly he had called to see about it.

“Who sent you?” she continued, and he understood that he was not there in answer to a want advertisement.

“Professor Blackburn.”  And he presented his letter and went on, with a return of his glibness:  “You see, I’ve been working my way through Harvard—­preparing for the ministry—­Congregationalist.  Found I’d have to stop and go to work regularly for a while before I could finish.  So I’ve come over here, where I can attend the night classes at Columbia at the same time.  And as I’m interested in Egyptology, and had heard a good deal about your collection, I got that letter to you.  Thought you might know some one in the building who wanted a man, as work in a place like this would be right in my line.  Of course, if you’re looking for any one, I’d like to apply for the place.”  And he paused expectantly.

“I see.  You want to be a Dissenting minister, and you’re working for your education.  Very creditable of you, I’m sure.  And you’re a stranger in New York, you say?”

“Utter,” returned Simpkins.

Mrs. Athelstone proceeded to question him at some length about his qualifications.  When he had satisfied her that he was competent to attend to the easy, clerical work of the office and to care for the more valuable articles in the hall, things which she did not care to leave to the regular cleaners, she concluded: 

“I’m disposed to give you a trial, Mr. Simpkins, but I want you to understand that under no circumstances are you to talk about me or your work outside the office.  I’ve been so hunted and harried by reporters——­” And her voice broke.  “What I want above all else is a clerk that I can trust.”