He placed the book on the table, and sat down. It was no business of his, but he felt compelled to listen to the conversation. The first words brought the blood to his face with a rush.
"Have you a boy named Hartland employed here?" asked the stranger.
"I have."
"James Hartland?"
"That is his name. Why?"
"I should like to speak to him for a minute, if I may."
"Is it anything important? because he is busy at present."
Jim thought the man laughed; but he said aloud, "I think it's important enough for me to see him."
"Hartland!" cried his master, "here's a gentleman wishes to see you!" And Jim, half dazed by surprise and doubt and fear, moved slowly toward the counter.
The man on the other side of the counter was of medium height, well proportioned on the whole, but with a great breadth of chest. He was dressed in heavy serge of a dark-blue colour, and wore a peaked cap. His hair was short and curly; a few silver threads sprinkled the tawny brown of an ample beard. His eyes were gray; his face was white, and rather drawn. An observant critic would probably have called him a strong man just recovered or recovering from a severe illness.