“Very well,” I said, “if you are really desirous of consulting me, I shall be very glad to see you at my office at ten o’clock to-morrow morning.  I must ask you, however, not to be late, as I have several other appointments.”

“We shall not be late,” the man answered, “you may rely upon that.  We have too much at stake to run any risks of losing your assistance.  We will be with you to-morrow morning at ten o’clock punctually.”

He thereupon bade me good-bye and raising his hat politely was led along the street by his companion in an opposite direction to that I was taking.  They seemed delighted that I had given them an appointment, but for my part I am afraid I was too absorbed by the memories of the day, and the punishment that had been allotted to the two principal members in the swindle, to think very much of them and their business.  Indeed, although I made a note of the appointment, it was not until I had arrived at the office on the following morning that I recollected their promised visit.  I had just finished my correspondence, and had dictated a few letters to my managing clerk, when a junior entered with two cards, which he placed before me.  The first I took up bore the name of Mr. Septimus Codd, that of the second, Mr. George Kitwater.  When I had finished the letter I was in the act of dictating, I bade the clerk admit them, and a moment later the blind man and his companion whom I had seen on Ludgate Hill the previous evening, were ushered into my presence.  I cannot remember a more venerable appearance than that presented by the taller man.  His was a personality that would have appealed forcibly to any student of humanity.  It was decidedly an open countenance, to which the long white beard that descended almost to his waist gave an added reverence.  His head was well shaped and well set upon his shoulders, his height was six feet two if an inch, and he carried himself with the erectness of a man accustomed to an outdoor life.  He was well dressed, and for this reason I surmised that he was the possessor of good manners.  His companion was as much below the middle height as he was above it.  His was a peculiar countenance resembling that of a boy when seen at a distance, and that of an old man when one was close to him.  His eyes, as I have already said, were small, and they were set deep in his head.  This, in itself, was calculated to add to his peculiar appearance.  He steered his blind companion into the room and placed him in a seat.  Then he perched himself on a chair beside him and waited for me to open the debate.

“Good-morning, gentlemen,” I said.  “Allow me to congratulate you on your punctuality.”

“We were afraid of missing you,” observed Kitwater.  “Our business is so particular that we did not want to run any risk of losing our appointment.”

“Perhaps you will now be good enough to tell me what that business is?” I replied, taking my note-book out of a drawer preparatory to writing down what they had to say.