Maitland glanced over it rapidly.
"Wickes, what does this nonsense mean ?" His chief's voice arrested him.
He turned again to the desk.
"I don't think--I have come to feel, sir, that I am not able for my job.

I do not see as how I can go on." Maitland's brows frowned upon the sheet.

Slowly he picked up the paper, tore it across and tossed it into the waste basket.
"Wickes, you are an old fool--and," he added in a voice that grew husky, "I am another and worse." "But, sir--" began Wickes, in hurried tones.
"Oh, cut it all out, Wickes," said Maitland impatiently.

"You know I won't stand for that.

But what can we do?
He saved my boy's life--" "Yes, sir, and he was with my Stephen at the last, and--" The old man's voice suddenly broke.
"I remember, Wickes, I remember.