For the visit to the lawyers Mr. Fawcus arrayed himself in a black suit he had not worn for eleven years, in fact, not since the annual prize-giving at the last school he owned. It had been packed in the bottom of a large trunk to go to Australia, where it was intended to be worn at the ceremonious welcomes that Mr. Fawcus hoped to receive in his new country. By good fortune this trunk had missed being put on board the Wizard Queen, and both Mr. and Mrs. Fawcus had been able to live for ten years on the clothes it had contained.
Mr. Hepper and Mr. Philcox were even more desiccated than Mr. Bristowe of Holland and Brown's. Both their waistcoats were dusty with snuff, so dusty that if Mr. Philcox had not happened to prick his finger while he was talking to Mary and displayed on the tip of it an infinitesimal but withal definitely recognizable drop of blood Mary might have thought that they were stuffed with sawdust like her own dolls.
"And what arrangements have you made for conveying Miss Flower to her grandmother?" asked Mr. Hepper.
"Mrs. Fawcus will conduct her to Paris," said Mr. Fawcus. "I should have taken her myself if I had not recorded a solemn vow on Dover Quay ten years ago never to cross the sea again."
"Ah, that would be after you were wrecked, no doubt," said Mr. Philcox. "Yes—um—ah! I've never been wrecked myself, Mr. Fawcus."
"It is an experience which happily falls to the lot of few," said Mr. Fawcus.
"Yes—um—ah! Then I may take it as definite that this young lady will leave by the Dover packet on Wednesday next. How is the glass, Mr. Hepper?"
"The glass is steady, Mr. Philcox."
"The glass augurs well for the voyage across, Mr. Fawcus. You hear what Mr. Hepper says."
"Is there anything more you wish to tell me?" Mr. Fawcus inquired, bowing to each of the partners in turn.