possible that Mr. Westley would sink the uncle in the employer and
dismiss him as summarily as he would have dismissed any other clerk in
similar circumstances. If so, he was prepared to welcome dismissal.
Other men fought an unsheltered fight with the world, so why not he?

He moved towards the door of the inner office with a certain
exhilaration.

As he approached, it flew open, disclosing Mr. Westley himself, a tall,
thin man, at the sight of whom Spiller shot into his seat like a
rabbit.

John went to meet him.

"Ah," said Mr. Westley; "come in here. I want to speak to you."

John followed him into the room.

"Sit down," said his uncle.

John waited while he dictated a letter. Neither spoke till the
stenographer had left the room. John met the girl's eye as she passed.
There was a compassionate look in it. John was popular with his fellow
employes. His absence had been the cause of discussion and speculation
among them, and the general verdict had been that there would be
troublous times for him on the morrow.

When the door closed, Mr. Westley leaned back in his chair, and
regarded his nephew steadily from under a pair of bushy gray eyebrows
which lent a sort of hypnotic keenness to his gaze.