Opening the first door at the top of the flight, he saw a small boy leaning both arms across a large desk, and watching the gyrations of two white mice in a revolving cage.
"Hullo!" said the boy sharply, "what d' ye want ?" "I want to see Mr.Rowden or Mr.Owlett," he replied.
"Right y' are!" and the boy promptly seized the cage containing the white mice and hid it in a cupboard.

"You're our first caller to-day.
Mr.Rowden's gone to Dawlish,--but Mr.Owlett's in.

Wait a minute." Helmsley obeyed, sitting down in a chair near the door, and smiling to himself at the evidences of slack business which the offices of Messrs.
Rowden and Owlett presented.

In about five minutes the boy returned, and gave him a confidential nod.
"You can go in now," he said; "Mr.Owlett was taking his after-dinner snooze, but he's jumped up at once, and he's washed his hands and face, so he's quite ready for business.

This way, please!" He beckoned with a rather dirty finger, and Helmsley followed him into a small apartment where Mr.Owlett, a comfortably stout, middle-aged gentleman, sat at a large bureau covered with papers, pretending to read.