Douglas rose up with a sense of sick disappointment at his heart, but with a firm determination also to carry himself like a man.

“I am much obliged to you,” he said.  “I will think the matter over and let you know.”

Drexley watched the struggle.  He, too, had been young, and he hated himself.

“You had better leave us your address,” he said.  “We will let you know, then, if we see a chance of using more of your work.”

Douglas hesitated.

“When I have an address,” he said, “I will write to you.  At present I have not made my arrangements in London.”

Drexley let him go, despising himself, with a vague feeling of irritation, too, against the beautiful face which smiled at him from his table.  Douglas’s one idea was to get out of the place.  He had no wish to see Rice or any one.  But on the landing he came face to face with the latter, who had not as yet gone into his room.

“Hullo,” he exclaimed.  “You’re soon off.  Have you finished with ’the chief’ already?”

Douglas nodded with tightening lips.

“He hadn’t much to say to me,” he answered.  “Good afternoon.”

Rice let his hand fall upon the other’s shoulder.

“I don’t understand,” he said.  “Here, come into my room for a minute.”

Douglas yielded, and Rice listened to the description of his interview, his little wizened face puckered up with astonishment.  When he had finished he thrust a box of cigarettes towards his visitor and rose from his chair.

“Here,” he said, “just wait here a moment.  I must have a word with the chief.”

He turned out.  He was gone for several minutes.  When he returned his face was grave and puzzled.

“Jesson,” he said, “I’ll be frank with you.  Either the chief’s gone off his nut, or you managed to offend him somehow.  I can’t understand it a bit, I’ll confess.  I’m fairly staggered.”

“I hadn’t a chance to offend him,” Douglas said.  “He simply sat on me.”

Rice walked up and down the room.

“I wish you’d leave me your address,” he said.  “I’d like to look into this a bit.”

Douglas sighed.

“I can only tell you” he said, “what I told Mr. Drexley.  At present I haven’t one.  Good afternoon.”

Rice walked with him to the door.

“Jesson,” he said, “I want you to promise me something.”

“Well?”

“You’re a bit down on your luck.  If things go badly you’ll give me a look up.  I can always raise a bit, and I think your word’s all right.  I tell you this, on my honour.  Only yesterday ‘the chief’ asked for the proof of your story himself.  It was down to appear without fail this next week.  We’ve very few manuscripts in hand—­never had fewer—­and they’ve been so short of good fiction.  What’s gone wrong I don’t know, but you leave it to me and I’ll find out.  You’ll let me hear from you, eh?”

Douglas nodded drearily.