He looked up expectantly at the sound of footsteps; then looked down again at the work in hand and went silently on with it.
"This is Hackett, Mr.Oliver's dresser," said Stafford.

"Been with him--how long, Hackett ?" "Twenty years next January, Mr.Stafford," answered the dresser quietly.
"Ever known Mr.Oliver late like this ?" inquired Stafford.
"Never, sir! There's something wrong," replied Hackett.

"I'm sure of it.
I feel it! You ought to go and look for him, some of you gentlemen." "Where ?" asked Stafford.

"We don't know anything about him.

He's not come to the 'Angel,' as he ought to have done, yesterday.