What had he said to me?  Only a few civil words, spoken in a very respectful manner.  There had been nothing in his tones, nothing in his looks, to give any peculiar significance to what he uttered.  Still, the moment his back was turned, I found myself speculating whether his words contained any hidden meaning; trying to recall something in his voice or manner which might guide me in discovering the real sense he attached to what he said.  It seemed as if the most powerful whet to my curiosity, were supplied by my own experience of the impossibility of penetrating beneath the unassailable surface which this man presented to me.

I questioned Margaret about him.  She could not tell me more than I knew already.  He had always been very kind and useful; he was a clever man, and could talk a great deal sometimes, when he chose; and he had taught her more of foreign languages and foreign literature in a month, than she had learned at school in a year.  While she was telling me this, I hardly noticed that she spoke in a very hurried manner, and busied herself in arranging the books and work that lay on the table.  My attention was more closely directed to Mrs. Sherwin.  To my surprise, I saw her eagerly lean forward while Margaret was speaking, and fix her eyes on her daughter with a look of penetrating scrutiny, of which I could never have supposed a person usually so feeble and unenergetic to be capable.  I thought of transferring to her my questionings on the subject of Mr. Mannion; but at that moment her husband entered the room, and I addressed myself for further enlightenment to him.

“Aha!”—­cried Mr. Sherwin, rubbing his hands triumphantly—­“I knew Mannion would please you.  I told you so, my dear Sir, if you remember, before he came.  Curious looking person—­isn’t he?”

“So curious, that I may safely say I never saw a face in the slightest degree resembling his in my life.  Your clerk, Mr. Sherwin, is a complete walking mystery that I want to solve.  Margaret cannot give me much help, I am afraid.  When you came in, I was about to apply to Mrs. Sherwin for a little assistance.”

“Don’t do any such thing!  You’ll be quite in the wrong box there.  Mrs. S. is as sulky as a bear, whenever Mannion and she are in company together.  Considering her behaviour to him, I wonder he can be so civil to her as he is.”

“What can you tell me about him yourself, Mr. Sherwin?”

“I can tell you there’s not a house of business in London has such a managing man as he is:  he’s my factotum—­my right hand, in short; and my left too, for the matter of that.  He understands my ways of doing business; and, in fact, carries things out in first-rate style.  Why, he’d be worth his weight in gold, only for the knack he has of keeping the young men in the shop in order.  Poor devils! they don’t know how he does it; but there’s a particular look of Mr. Mannion’s that’s as bad as transportation and hanging to them, whenever they see it.  I’ll