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Updated: May 29, 2025
'Desire Mr Hazell room No. 332 to speak to me, said the official to the boy who answered the summons, and then, turning to Racksole: 'I need hardly repeat, my dear Mr Racksole, that this is strictly unofficial. 'Agreed, of course, said Racksole. Mr Hazell entered.
The millionaire soon discovered that he had got hold of a keen-witted man and a person of much insight. 'Tell me, said Hazell, when they had reached the cigarette stage, 'are the magazine writers anything like correct? 'What do you mean? asked Racksole, mystified. 'Well, you're a millionaire "one of the best", I believe.
On the other side of the room Ned Hazell lay sleeping the deep sleep of the unpunctual clerk; and Henry, when he had for a moment or two dwelt upon his own happiness, took a malicious joy in arousing him. "Ned," he shouted, "get up! You'll be late for the office." Ned gave out a deep sound, something between a snore, a moan, and an imprecation.
'Where's 'e orf? It was the man in the bows who interrupted Hazell. Following the direction of the man's finger, both Hazell and Racksole saw with more or less distinctness a dinghy slip away from the forefoot of the Norwegian vessel and disappear downstream into the mist. 'It's Jules, I'll swear, cried Racksole. 'After him, men. Ten pounds apiece if we overtake him!
'And now, Mr Hazell, said Racksole, 'will you do me the pleasure of lunching with me? If you agree, I should like to lunch at the place you usually frequent. So it came to pass that Theodore Racksole and George Hazell, outdoor clerk in the Customs, lunched together at 'Thomas's Chop-House', in the city of London, upon mutton-chops and coffee.
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