I took the chair; it was the only chair in the room, with the exception of the one Minikin was sitting on.
“Apart from his being a bit of a driver,” I asked, “what sort of a man is he? Is he pleasant?”
“Never saw him put out but once,” answered Minikin.
It sounded well. “When was that?” I asked.
“All the time I've known him.”
My spirits continued to sink. Had I been left alone with Minikin much longer, I might have ended by following his advice, “hooking it” before Mr. Lott arrived. But the next moment I heard the other door open, and some one entered the private office. Then the bell rang, and Minikin disappeared, leaving the communicating door ajar behind him. The conversation that I overheard was as follows:
“Why isn't Mr. Skeat here?”
“Because he hasn't come.”
“Where are the letters?”
“Under your nose.”