act might be construed into an insult.

It was on a Saturday morning that Mrs Codleyn called to impart to Mr
Duncalf the dissatisfaction with which she had learned the news (printed
on a bit of bluish paper) that her rateable value, far from being
reduced, had been slightly augmented.

The interview, as judged by the clerks through a lath-and-plaster wall
and by means of a speaking tube, atoned by its vivacity for its lack of
ceremony. When the stairs had finished creaking under the descent of Mrs
Codleyn's righteous fury, Mr Duncalf whistled sharply twice. Two
whistles meant Denry. Denry picked up his shorthand note-book and obeyed
the summons.

"Take this down!" said his master, rudely and angrily.

Just as though Denry had abetted Mrs Codleyn! Just as though Denry was
not a personage of high importance in the town, the friend of
countesses, and a shorthand clerk only on the surface.

"Do you hear?"

"Yes, sir."

"MADAM"--hitherto it had always been "Dear Madam," or "Dear Mrs
Codleyn"--"MADAM,--Of course I need hardly say that if, after our
interview this morning, and your extraordinary remarks, you wish to
place your interests in other hands, I shall be most happy to hand over
all the papers, on payment of my costs. Yours truly ... To Mrs Codleyn."