CHAPTER IV.
R.Sabin, who was never, for its own sake, fond of solitude, had ordered dinner for two at eight-thirty in the general dining-room.

At a few minutes previous to that hour Mr.Skinner presented himself.
Mr.Skinner was not in the garb usually affected by men of the world who are invited to dine out.

The long day's exertion, too, had had its effect upon his linen.

His front, indeed, through a broad gap, confessed to a foundation of blue, and one of his cuffs showed a marked inclination to escape from his wrist over his knuckles.

His face was flushed, and he exhaled a strong odour of cigars and cocktails.
Nevertheless, Mr.Sabin was very glad to see him, and to receive the folded sheet of paper which he at once produced.
"I have taken the liberty," Mr.Sabin remarked, on his part, "of adding a trifle to the amount we first spoke of, which I beg you will accept from me as a mark of my gratitude for your promptness." "Sure!" Mr.Skinner answered tersely, receiving the little roll of bills without hesitation, and retreating into a quiet corner, where he carefully counted and examined every one.