"I think you 'd better sit here, Brassington," he said, pointing to a chair on his right. "And you, Professor Higginson, would you come here?" pointing to the chair upon his left. "The rest," he added abruptly, "can sit where they like. My lord! it 's beginning to rain!"
They sat awkwardly round him. Mr. Brassington, at least, was used enough to his irrelevancy not to notice the last remark, but Professor Higginson stared. He had had enough to do with mental aberration in the last few days; he didn't want any more of it.
"It 's beginning to rain," continued Mr. Kirby, turning to Mr. Brassington, "and I 'm sure you didn't bring your Overcoat. It 's May, and you didn't think you 'd want it. Well, I 've taken the liberty of an old friend, and I 've got it here; it 's hanging up." He jerked his head backwards.
They followed his gesture with their eyes, and sure enough the Green Overcoat was hanging there ponderously and silently upon a peg. It had one will and one purpose, and it had accomplished it: it had found its master.
"You 're a careless fellow, Brassington,"
