Warburton gravely took the cash, and Mrs. Cross, with her thinly gracious smile, bade him good-day.

He did not fail to “look in” on Sunday, and this time he wore his ordinary comfortable clothing.  The rooms recommended for Mr. Potts had seemed to him just what were needed, and on his own responsibility he had taken them.  Moreover, he had been to Kennington, and had made known to the nervous old man the arrangements that were proposed for him.

“But will he be allowed to leave?” asked Bertha in her eyes the twinkle for which Will watched.

“He won’t dare, he tells me, to give notice but he’ll only have to pay a week’s rent in lieu of it.  I have promised to be with him at ten to morrow morning, to help him to get away.  I shall take my heaviest walking-stick; one must be prepared for every emergency.  Glance over the police news on Tuesday, Mrs. Cross, just to see whether I have come to harm.”

“We shall be very anxious indeed,” replied the literal lady, with pained brow.  “Couldn’t you let us hear to-morrow evening?  I know only too well what dreadful creatures the women of that class can be.  I very strongly advise you, Mr. Warburton, to be accompanied by a policeman.  I beg you will.”

Late on the Monday afternoon, Jollyman’s errand boy left a note for Mrs. Cross.  It informed her that all had gone well, though “not without uproar.  The woman shrieked insults from her doorstep after our departing cab.  Poor Mr. Potts was all but paralytic with alarm, but came round famously at sight of the new lodgings.  He wants to thank you both.”

It was on this same evening that Warburton had a visit from Godfrey Sherwood.  A fortnight ago, just after Easter, had taken place the marriage of Mr. Milligan and Miss Parker; and Sherwood, whilst his chief was absent on the honeymoon, had run down to the seaside for a change of air.  Tonight, he presented himself unexpectedly, and his face was the prologue to a moving tale.

“Read that, Warburton—­” he held out a letter.  “Read that, and tell me what you think of human nature.”

It was a letter from Milligan, who, with many explanations and apologies, wrote to inform his secretary that the Great Work could not be pursued, that the vegetarian colony in Ireland, which was to civilise the world, must—­so far as he was concerned—­remain a glorious dream.  The fact of the matter was, Mrs. Milligan did not like it.  She had tried vegetarianism; it did not suit her health; moreover, she objected to living in Ireland, on account of the dampness of the climate.  Sadly, reluctantly, Mrs. Milligan’s husband had to forgo his noble project.  In consequence, he would have no need henceforth of a secretary, and Sherwood must consider their business relations at an end.

“He encloses a very liberal cheque,” said Godfrey.  “But what a downfall!  I foresaw it.  I hinted my fears to you as soon as Miss Parker appeared on the scene.  Poor old Milligan!  A lost man—­sunk in the commonplace—­hopelessly whelmed in vulgar matrimony.  Poor old fellow!”