The boy smiled. "It's that business of the Wark timber
contract, sir," he said. "You promised you'd look into it
to-day; you know you've shelved it for a week already, and Craig,
Burnage are rather clamoring for an answer." He moved forward
and laid the papers he was carrying on the table beside
Chilcote. "I'm sorry to be such a nuisance," he added. "I
hope your nerves aren't worrying you to-day?"

Chilcote was toying with the papers. At the word nerves he
glanced up suspiciously. But Blessington's ingenuous face
satisfied him.

"No," he said. "I settled my nerves last night with--with a
bromide. I knew that fog would upset me unless I took
precautions."

"I'm glad of that, sir--though I'd avoid bromides. Bad habit
to set up. But this Wark business--I'd like to get it under
way, if you have no objection."

Chilcote passed his fingers over the papers. "Were you out in
that fog last night, Blessington?"

"No, sir. I supped with some people at the Savoy, and we just
missed it. It was very partial, I believe."

"So I believe."

Blessington put his hand to his neat tie and pulled it. He