“Do you know why I wanted to see you?”
“No.”
“To tell you that I had decided to abandon my system. To notify you that you would, in future, receive no more of my work.”
There was a dead silence.
“I think I’ll go home to bed,” said the Reverend.
Blake and myself followed him out.
Mr. Cloyster thanked us all warmly for the excellent way in which we had helped him. He said that he was now engaged to be married, and had to save every penny. “Otherwise, I should have tried to meet you in this affair of the half-profits.” He added that we had omitted to congratulate him on his engagement.
His words came faintly to our ears as we tramped down Walpole Street; nor did we, as far as I can remember, give back any direct reply.
Tell you what it was just like. Reminded me of it even at the time: that picture of Napoleon coming back from Moscow. The Reverend was Napoleon, and we were the generals; and if there were three humpier men walking the streets of London at that moment I should have liked to have seen them.