than a twisted knee, even when his neighbours on the Quay, putting
their heads together, had shaken them collectively and decided that
"the poor man must be suff'rin' from something chronic."

Then followed a bitter time, as his savings dwindled. He made more
than a dozen brave attempts to resume his old occupation. But in the
smallest lop of a sea he was useless, so that it became dangerous to
take him. Month by month he fell further back in arrears of rent.

And now the end seemed to have arrived with Mr Pamphlett's notice of
ejectment. Nicky-Nan, of course, held that Mr Pamphlett had a
personal grudge against him. Mr Pamphlett had nothing of the sort.
In ordinary circumstances, knowing Nicky-Nan to be an honest man, he
would have treated him easily. But he wanted to "develope" Polpier
to his own advantage: and his scheme of development centred on the
old house by the bridge. He desired to pull it down and transfer the
Bank to that eligible site. He had a plan of the proposed new
building, with a fine stucco frontage and edgings of terra-cotta.

Mr Pamphlett saw his way to make this improvement, and was quite
resolute about it; and Nicky-Nan, by his earlier reception of notices
to quit, had not bettered any chance of resisting. Still--had
Nicky-Nan known it--Mr Pamphlett, like many another bank manager, had
been caught and thrown in a heap by the sudden swoop of War.
Over the telephone wires he had been in agitated converse all day
with his superiors, who had at length managed to explain to him the
working of the financial Moratorium.

So Mr Pamphlett, knowing there must be War, had clean forgotten the
Ejectment Order, until Nicky-Nan inopportunely reminded him of it;