The old wooden sign was long gone.

"John Murchison and Sons" glittered instead in the plate-glass windows, but Hesketh did not see it.
"Why do you think he'll be in here ?" he asked, on young Murchison's heels.
"Because he always is when he isn't over at the shop," replied Lorne.
"It's his place of business--his store, you know.

There he is! Hard luck--he's got a customer.

We'll have to wait." He went on ahead with his impetuous step; he did not perceive the instant's paralysis that seemed to overtake Hesketh's, whose foot dragged, however, no longer than that.

It was an initiation; he had been told he might expect some.