He lunched in the Legal Club in Chancery Lane, and met Ogilvy. Sheppard, whose distress at the consumption of the provisions had been somewhat allayed by the anticipation of the intruder's departure after he had satisfied his appetite, was now terrified in the extreme by seeing a light approach, and hearing footsteps on the stairs. "The glass never sinks in that way, d'ye see, without a hurricane follerin', I've knowed it often do so in the West Injees. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished. "I want you for the job I spoke of a short time ago, Nab," he said. ” “But Hainault—was—a pal.
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