The drawn-looking man turned over a few of the papers; then gathered up the lot and threw them into a drawer.
“Unexpected little things have a way of happening,” said he. “And it’s as well that they do; for they are really of that elemental spice which makes life worth while.” He dumped the contents of another drawer upon the table, and nodded toward a chair. “Won’t you sit down?” he asked.
“I don’t mind if I do,” said Mr. Scanlon, sociably.
And so he sat down in the chair. And while the drawn man busied himself with the fresh batch of papers, Bat took out the tobacco pouch and the little packet of papers and rolled himself a cigarette. This he lighted, and puffed away comfortably.
“You seem to be hard at it,” commented he, after a pause, during which he watched the labours of the other.
The drawn man admitted that this was so by a gesture.
“It’s a more or less difficult proposition,” said he. “This room is a regular dumping-place for documents. They seem to have been snatched up and brought here in barrels. Not the slightest care has been taken to keep them properly classed.”
“Tut, tut!” observed Mr. Scanlon. “That’s what I call just common carelessness. They might have known that you’d call.”
The drawn man coughed.
“As to that,” said he, “I’m not so sure. We’ve made an effort to avoid any extreme of publicity, you see.”