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"Do you know who he is, Mr Crosbie?" said the superintendent. "Oh, yes," said Crosbie, whose eye was already becoming blue. "He is a clerk in the Income-tax Office, and his name is Eames. I believe you had better leave him to me." But the superintendent at once wrote down the words "Income-tax Office Eames," on his tablet.
"You'll find it began with Mr Kissing." "It did not begin with Mr Kissing; it began and ended with me. What are you going to do, sir?" John Eames stepped towards the bell, and his hand was already on the bell-pull. "I was going to ring for the papers, sir." "And who told you to ring for the papers? I don't want the papers. The papers won't show anything.
They were that gentleman's definition of a gentleman a definition which was cordially approved by every other gentleman who, like Mr. Eames junior, happened to hold analogous views. Gentlemen being rather scarce nowadays, we cannot but feel grateful to the Crotalophoboi for devouring Saint Dodekanus and paving the way, VIA the ANTIQUITIES of Monsignor Perrelli, for the refined personality of Mr.
"No, not very long," said Lily. "But when you come to see my friends you mustn't be in a hurry, Mr Crosbie." "He had his turn with Lady Julia," said Bell, "and we must have ours now." "At any rate, Mrs Eames won't tell us to do our duty and to beware of being too beautiful," said Lily.
John Eames Returns to Burton Crescent John Eames and Crosbie returned to town on the same day. It will be remembered how Eames had assisted Lord De Guest in the matter of the bull, and how great had been the earl's gratitude on the occasion.
It was late before Eames had finished his letter. He had been making himself ready for his exodus from the big room, and preparing his desk and papers for his successor. About half-past five Cradell came up to him, and suggested that they should walk home together. "What! you here still?" said Eames. "I thought you always went at four."
He feared people would talk of it to his dying day; he knew they would! He wished balloons had never been invented. None the less he stuck it out bravely, threw himself with redoubled zeal into Monsignor Perrelli and, incidentally, became more of a recluse than ever. "It has been a lesson," he reflected. "SEMPER ALIQUID HAEREBIT, I am afraid. . . ." Ernest Eames was the ideal annotator.
I have said that John Eames was at his office punctually at twelve; but an incident had happened before his arrival there very important in the annals which are now being told, so important that it is essentially necessary that it should be described with some minuteness of detail.
"When is Mr Eames going to be back?" Mrs Thorne said at dinner one day. On this occasion the squire was dining at Mrs Thorne's house; and there were three or four others there, among them a Mr Harold Smith, who was in Parliament, and his wife, and John Eames's especial friend, Sir Raffle Buffle.
It is not fair to the rest of us. We all contribute our mites to the gaiety of nations. Bethink yourself. Bestir yourself. Man! Do something to show us you are alive." To such speeches Mr. Eames would listen with a smile of amused indignation.
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