Mr. Barlow obeyed, and passed into the inner office. There he stopped short, and cried:
“Christopher, by all that’s holy!”
The Agent looked up, sprang to his feet, and held out his hand.
“Fred! Back again, and become a Barlow!”
Fred took the outstretched hand, but doubtfully.
“Come to that, Chris, you’re a Crediton.”
“In the way of business, Crediton.”
“Quite so. In the way of business, Barlow.”
Then they looked at each other and burst into laughter.
“I knew your handwriting, Fred. When I got your letter I knew it was yours, so I sent you a type-written reply. Typewriting never betrays, and can’t be found out if you want to be secret.”