He'll be down, you know, on Tuesday." Heathcote breathed hard.

But when it came to a question of choosing between Pledge and the "Firm," it needed no very desperate inward battle to decide.
"What had I better do ?" he asked.
"Cut him," said Dick.
"But suppose I've promised him ?" "That's a nuisance.

Never mind, we're all in it, so we'll send him a letter from the 'Firm' and tell him you cry off.

It's a bad job, of course, but it can't be helped, and we'll back you up, won't we, Coote ?" "I should rather say so," replied the genial junior partner.
So, that quiet Sunday afternoon, in an unpretentious and unsentimental way, a very good stroke of work was done, not only for the soul of Georgie Heathcote, but for Templeton generally.
The "Firm" were by no means elated at their decision, for they had yet to learn what revenge the senior would take upon them.

Still, the effort and the common peril knit them together in bonds of closer brotherhood, and enabled them to face the future, if not cheerily, at least, with grim determination.
Pledge was considerably astounded that evening, just as he was speculating on the reason of Heathcote's non-appearance, to see Coote's round head suddenly thrust in at the door, and a small billet tossed on to the table.
Pledge was getting used to small billets by this time, and was rather tired of them.