Young Gilbert Farney, secretary of “The Island Navigation Company,” entering his hushed Board-room, stepped briskly to the table, gathered some papers, and stood looking at his chairman.  Not more than thirty-five, with the bright hues of the optimist in his hair, beard, cheeks, and eyes, he had a nose and lips which curled ironically.  For, in his view, he was the Company; and its Board did but exist to chequer his importance.  Five days in the week for seven hours a day he wrote, and thought, and wove the threads of its business, and this lot came down once a week for two or three hours, and taught their grandmother to suck eggs.  But watching that red-cheeked, white-haired, somnolent figure, his smile was not so contemptuous as might have been expected.  For after all, the chairman was a wonderful old boy.  A man of go and insight could not but respect him.  Eighty!  Half paralysed, over head and ears in debt, having gone the pace all his life—­or so they said!—­till at last that mine in Ecuador had done for him—­before the secretary’s day, of course, but he had heard of it.  The old chap had bought it up on spec’—­“de l’audace, toujours de l’audace,” as he was so fond of saying—­paid for it half in cash and half in promises, and then—­the thing had turned out empty, and left him with L20,000 worth of the old shares unredeemed.  The old boy had weathered it out without a bankruptcy so far.  Indomitable old buffer; and never fussy like the rest of them!  Young Farney, though a secretary, was capable of attachment; and his eyes expressed a pitying affection.  The Board meeting had been long and “snadgy”—­a final settling of that Pillin business.  Rum go the chairman forcing it on them like this!  And with quiet satisfaction the secretary thought ’And he never would have got it through if I hadn’t made up my mind that it really is good business!’ For to expand the company was to expand himself.  Still, to buy four ships with the freight market so depressed was a bit startling, and there would be opposition at the general meeting.  Never mind!  He and the chairman could put it through—­put it through.  And suddenly he saw the old man looking at him.

Only from those eyes could one appreciate the strength of life yet flowing underground in that well-nigh helpless carcase—­deep-coloured little blue wells, tiny, jovial, round windows.

A sigh travelled up through layers of flesh, and he said almost inaudibly: 

“Have they come, Mr. Farney?”

“Yes, sir.  I’ve put them in the transfer office; said you’d be with them in a minute; but I wasn’t going to wake you.”

“Haven’t been asleep.  Help me up.”

Grasping the edge of the table with his trembling hands, the old man pulled, and, with Farney heaving him behind, attained his feet.  He stood about five feet ten, and weighed fully fourteen stone; not corpulent, but very thick all through; his round and massive head alone would have outweighed a baby.  With eyes shut, he seemed to be trying to get the better of his own weight, then he moved with the slowness of a barnacle towards the door.  The secretary, watching him, thought:  ’Marvellous old chap!  How he gets about by himself is a miracle!  And he can’t retire, they say-lives on his fees!’