It was half-past nine when he found Mr. Clay in his office, strict and starched as ever, and, as ever, in some incomprehensible hurry to get on to the next affair.
"Clay," he said, "can you lend me the big shed to-night?"
"Yes," said Mr. Clay with the rapidity of decision that had already lost him one fortune and grievously jeopardised two others. "James," he said, turning round smartly, "book that. Mr. Bailey takes the big shed when the men knock off work."
"No, no!" broke in William Bailey, "not when the men knock off work. It's Saturday man! Half-past eight's the hour."
"Oh!" said Mr. Clay promptly. "James, book that: not when the men knock off work, half-past eight. Anything more?" he added, turning to Mr. Bailey as upon a swivel.
"Yes, Clay, certainly," said Mr. Bailey with deliberate hesitation. "Will the men come?"
"Of course they'll come. I'll tell them to come: they'll come anyhow. James," he said, turning round again, "note that the men are to come."
The wretched James noted it.
"Anything more?" said Mr. Clay.
"Yes," said Mr. Bailey, "will you take the chair?"