Mr. Grey had not got more than half-way through his cigar on that evening of the 27th of August when a servant knocked and entered.
The master, whose face was towards the window, turned round his head slowly, and said in a kindly voice:
"Well, James, what is it?"
"A man, sir, wants to see you."
James was thick-set, low-sized, near-sighted, and dull. He had been a private soldier in a foot regiment, and had been obliged to leave because of his increasing near-sightedness. But he had been long enough in uniform to acquire the accomplishment of strict and literal attention to orders, and the complete suspension of his own faculties of judgment and discretion. Although his master was several inches taller than James, the latter looked in the presence of the banker like a clumsy elephant beside an elegant panther.
"A man wants to see me!" cried Mr. Grey, in astonishment, not unmixed with a sense of the ridiculous. "What kind of a man? and what is his business."
He glanced good-humouredly at James, but owing to the shortness of the servant's sight the expression of the master's face was wasted in air.
James, who had but a small stock of observation and no fancy, replied respectfully:
"He seems a common man, sir; like a man you'd see in the street."
"Ah," said Mr. Grey, with a smile; "that sort of man, is it? Ah! Which, James, do you mean: the sort of man you'd see walking in the streets, or standing at a public-house corner?"