there," volunteered the youth. "Sort of patron saint of the business, as you might say."
"Who is—was he, do you know?"
"Well, I looked him up at the time, or I shouldn't. Yes; quite a character in his time. A coal-dealer in a small way—delivered the stuff himself. And yet that man, sir, was one of the foremost musicians of his day. Gave concerts that attracted all the toffs out of the West End to his coal-hole somewhere. Absolutely hand-in-glove with the élite in a manner of speaking, and yet going round with his coal all the time."
"It was true then," murmured Mr. Brown.
"Oh, quite true, I assure you. And that wasn't all. He went in for chemistry and astrology, and things that weren't much understood then, and, in fact, got the name for having dealings with the devil! Of course, that's all my eye."
"Quite," assented Mr. Brown feebly. "Good-morning."
"Oh, you're very welcome," said the clerk hospitably.
Ravenscourt Park, 1918.
