Mr. Fledgeby shook his head deploringly at Twemlow, and mutely expressed in reference to the venerable figure standing before him with eyes upon the ground: “What a monster of an Israelite this is!”

“ Mr. Riah,” said Fledgeby.

The old man lifted up his eyes once more to the little eyes in Mr. Fledgeby’s head, with some reviving hope that the sign might be coming yet.

“ Mr. Riah, it’s of no use my holding back the fact. There’s a certain great party in the background in Mr. Twemlow’s case, and you know it.”

“I know it,” the old man admitted.