"Has he come to stay?"
"Um! I think so."
Gustavus Lark stroked his beard. He looked very handsome and prosperous, not unlike a genial monarch whom he was said by his clerks to understudy.
"I want you," he said slowly, "to go to Soho Square this morning, and if by any chance Quinney should ask your opinion of the commode, why"—he laughed pleasantly—"in that case I shouldn't mind betting quite a considerable sum that you would discover it to be—er—a clever reproduction."
Pressland smiled.
"Probably."
"I mean to have a look at it myself later."
Pressland went his way. Part of his success in life may be assigned to a praiseworthy habit of executing small and big commissions with becoming promptitude. He strolled into Quinney's shop as if he were the most idle man in town.
"Anything to show me?" he asked languidly.
Quinney was delighted to see him. He recognized Pressland at once.