“What do you mean?”
“I just have to sit here and see that nobody gets into that office. Lively, ain’t it? Where’s the prospects?”
Bristol surveyed him thoughtfully.
“Look here, my lad,” he said quietly; “is that door locked?”
“Always,” replied the boy.
“Does Mr. Knowlson come to that shutter when you knock?”
“Yes.”
“Then go and knock!”
The boy obeyed with alacrity. He rapped loudly on the door, not noticing or not caring that the visitor was standing directly behind him. The shutter was lowered and a grizzled, bearded face showed for a moment through the opening.
Bristol leant over the boy and pushed a card through into the hand of the man beyond. On this occasion it did not bear the legend “John Henry Smith,” but the following—