Chance

I don't know whether my appreciation helped to advance my friend's

business but at any rate it helped our intercourse. He treated me with a

shade of familiarity as one of the initiated.

The last time I called on him to conclude the transaction we were

interrupted by a person, something like a cross between a bookmaker and a

private secretary, who, entering through a door which was not the

anteroom door, walked up and stooped to whisper into his ear.

"Eh? What? Who, did you say?"

The nondescript person stooped and whispered again, adding a little

louder: "Says he won't detain you a moment."

My little man glanced at me, said "Ah! Well," irresolutely. I got up

from my chair and offered to come again later. He looked whimsically

alarmed. "No, no. It's bad enough to lose my money but I don't want to

waste any more of my time over your friend. We must be done with this to-

day. Just go and have a look at that garniture de cheminee yonder.

There's another, something like it, in the castle of Laeken, but mine's

much superior in design."

I moved accordingly to the other side of that big room. The garniture

was very fine. But while pretending to examine it I watched my man going

forward to meet a tall visitor, who said, "I thought you would be

disengaged so early. It's only a word or two"--and after a whispered

confabulation of no more than a minute, reconduct him to the door and

shake hands ceremoniously. "Not at all, not at all. Very pleased to be

of use. You can depend absolutely on my information"--"Oh thank you,

thank you. I just looked in." "Certainly, quite right. Any time . . .

Good morning."

I had a good look at the visitor while they were exchanging these

civilities. He was clad in black. I remember perfectly that he wore a

flat, broad, black satin tie in which was stuck a large cameo pin; and a

small turn down collar. His hair, discoloured and silky, curled slightly

over his ears. His cheeks were hairless and round, and apparently soft.

He held himself very upright, walked with small steps and spoke gently in

an inward voice. Perhaps from contrast with the magnificent polish of

the room and the neatness of its owner, he struck me as dingy, indigent,

and, if not exactly humble, then much subdued by evil fortune.

I wondered greatly at my fat little financier's civility to that dubious

personage when he asked me, as we resumed our respective seats, whether I

knew who it was that had just gone out. On my shaking my head negatively

he smiled queerly, said "De Barral," and enjoyed my surprise. Then

becoming grave: "That's a deep fellow, if you like. We all know where he

started from and where he got to; but nobody knows what he means to do."

He became thoughtful for a moment and added as if speaking to himself, "I

wonder what his game is."