"No, no, no, not trouble, by no means," declared the German vehemently, and he passed out of the board-room and left the wharf as he had entered it, wiping the perspiration off his forehead.
"Pouf!" he exclaimed, as he re-entered his office, and after pulling off his coat poured out half-a-tumbler of neat brandy, and swallowed it at a draught. "There has been too much of this, Kleinwort, my dear fellow, a few straws more would break even thy camel's back."
During the remainder of that day Mr. Kleinwort was too busy to spare more than a minute even to Mr. Forde, when that gentleman called to see him. The next morning he was too ill to come to business, and Mr. Forde, who felt anxious naturally concerning the health of a man, bound to stand by him through all chances and changes, went up to his house to ascertain what was the matter.
"I must get away for a week," declared the invalid, who looked ill enough to have warranted his saying he must get away for three months. "It has all been too much for me. A few days' quiet, and the sea, and the shells, and the bright ships sailing by, and I come back better than well. I go on Monday to Hastings, and you must so manage as to come to spend Saturday and Sunday in that peace so profound. Promise that it be we see you."
In perfect good faith Mr. Forde did promise that Kleinwort should be gratified thus far, but it was not in his nature to let a man go away from town and fail to remind him by means of every night's post about the trouble and anxiety he had left behind him. To these communications the manager received no reply whatever until the fourth day, when having despatched a more pressing and irritable note than usual there arrived this telegram.
"Monday will not be long. All suspense for you then over. Till then torment not me with business. We expect you for Saturday."
But it so happened that when Saturday came Mr. Forde found himself unable to leave London, and was compelled to telegraph apologies and regrets to his friend.
He waited at the wharf for an hour after the clerks left, expecting a reply to this communication, but at the end of that time wended his way home, thinking that most probably Mr. Kleinwort would address his answer there. Night closed, however, and no telegram arrived.
"He was out, no doubt," considered Mr. Forde, "and, as he is to be in London so soon, did not think it worth while to send a message till his return;" and with these comforting reflections, and the still more comforting fact of Monday, which was to end all suspense, being close at hand, Mr. Forde went to bed and slept soundly.
Monday came, and Mr. Forde was at Mr. Kleinwort's office so early that the head clerk was just turning the key in the lock as he reached the landing.