neither of them appeared to have seen him.

He sat thinking it over in the office one hot afternoon. Mr. Adolphus
Swann, his partner, had just returned from lunch, and for about the fifth
time that day was arranging his white hair and short, neatly pointed
beard in a small looking-glass. Over the top of it he glanced at Hardy,
who, leaning back in his chair, bit his pen and stared hard at a paper
before him.

"Is that the manifest of the North Star?" he inquired.

"No," was the reply.

Mr. Swann put his looking-glass away and watched the other as he crossed
over to the window and gazed through the small, dirty panes at the
bustling life of the harbour below. For a short time Hardy stood gazing
in silence, and then, suddenly crossing the room, took his hat from a peg
and went out.

"Restless," said the senior partner, wiping his folders with great care
and putting them on. "Wonder where he's put that manifest."

He went over to the other's desk and opened a drawer to search for it.
Just inside was a sheet of foolscap, and Mr. Swann with growing
astonishment slowly mastered the contents.

[Illustration: "Mr. Swann with growing astonishment slowly mastered the
contents."]

"See her as often as possible."