"The impudence! I've a good mind to write to your owners what I
think of you."

I turned on him for a moment:

"As it happens I don't care. For my part I assure you I won't even
take the trouble to mention you to them."

He stopped at the door of his office while I traversed the littered
anteroom. I think he was somewhat taken aback.

"I will break every bone in your body," he roared suddenly at the
miserable mulatto lad, "if you ever dare to disturb me before half-
past three for anybody. D'ye hear? For anybody! . . . Let alone
any damned skipper," he added, in a lower growl.

The frail youngster, swaying like a reed, made a low moaning sound.
I stopped short and addressed this sufferer with advice. It was
prompted by the sight of a hammer (used for opening the wine-cases,
I suppose) which was lying on the floor.

"If I were you, my boy, I would have that thing up my sleeve when I
went in next and at the first occasion I would--"

What was there so familiar in that lad's yellow face? Entrenched
and quaking behind the flimsy desk, he never looked up. His heavy,
lowered eyelids gave me suddenly the clue of the puzzle. He
resembled--yes, those thick glued lips--he resembled the brothers
Jacobus. He resembled both, the wealthy merchant and the pushing
shopkeeper (who resembled each other); he resembled them as much as