accountant, knew it when his obsequious but cheerful 'Good morning' was
acknowledged only by a 'Morn'' which was almost an oath. Mr Bickersdyke
passed up the aisle and into his room like an east wind. He sat down at
his table and pressed the bell. Harold, William's brother and
co-messenger, entered with the air of one ready to duck if any missile
should be thrown at him. The reports of the manager's frame of mind had
been circulated in the office, and Harold felt somewhat apprehensive.
It was on an occasion very similar to this that George Barstead,
formerly in the employ of the New Asiatic Bank in the capacity of
messenger, had been rash enough to laugh at what he had taken for a
joke of Mr Bickersdyke's, and had been instantly presented with the
sack for gross impertinence.

'Ask Mr Smith--' began the manager. Then he paused. 'No, never mind,'
he added.

Harold remained in the doorway, puzzled.

'Don't stand there gaping at me, man,' cried Mr Bickersdyke, 'Go away.'

Harold retired and informed his brother, William, that in his,
Harold's, opinion, Mr Bickersdyke was off his chump.

'Off his onion,' said William, soaring a trifle higher in poetic
imagery.

'Barmy,' was the terse verdict of Samuel Jakes, the third messenger.
'Always said so.' And with that the New Asiatic Bank staff of
messengers dismissed Mr Bickersdyke and proceeded to concentrate
themselves on their duties, which consisted principally of hanging