head, and his body was stout almost to corpulency. Stranleigh guessed, rather than saw, that his legs were stumpy and short. He was dressed in careless clothes of material poor when new, and now almost shabby, yet somehow the strength of the face seemed to make his apparel a matter of indifference. His piercing eye penetrated his visitor and took in all his points at a glance.
"Will you sit down, Mr. Stranleigh?" he said. "Where is this property situated?"
"I came to speak with you, Mr. Brassard, regarding the premises occupied by John Bendale."
"Ah!" ejaculated Brassard, his teeth coming together with a snap and his lips closing into a straight line. Then after a moment's pause he said, "Are you commissioned by Bendale to negotiate?"
"No."
"Then what are you doing here?"
"If you are kind enough to grant me a few moments' time I shall endeavour to explain."
This was said so courteously, with such a nice inflection of semi-deference, that for a moment Brassard's gruffness gave way before it. His eyes opened a little wider, and again he scrutinised the young man, but instead of asking him to explain he shot at him the unexpected question:
"Are you out of a job?"
"Ah—really," stammered his lordship, taken
