"Thank 'ee. I'm not askin' no names."
"As to that, I'd rather not mention the name, either. But I'd be very glad o' your advice: for 'tis important to me, in a way o' speakin'!"
Mr Rogers nodded. "If that's so," said he, "you must give me a little time to think. There's mortgages, o' course: and there's deals to be done in shipping: and there's money-lendin,—though you'd object to that, maybe. . . . Anyway, you come to me to-morrow, and I may have something to propose."
"Thank 'ee. I take that as friendly."
"Right." Mr Rogers let drop a trembling half-paralysed hand towards the newspaper which lay on the floor beside his chair. "Would ye mind—"
'Bias stepped forward and picked it up for him.
"Thank 'ee. No: I want you to keep it. . . . I'm goin' to do a thing that's friendlier yet: though it be a risk. Open the paper at the middle sheet—right-hand side, an' look out a column headed 'Troy News.' . . . Got it?"
"Half a moment—Yes,' Troy News'—Here we are!"
"Now cast your eye down the column till you come 'pon a part about last
Monday's Agricultural Demonstration."
"The devil!" swore 'Bias. "You don't mean to say—"