He had a Scottish name, but his complexion was of a rich olive hue, his short beard was jet black, and his eyes, also black, had a languishing expression. He asked confidentially:

“You want to see Him?”

All lightness of spirit and body having departed from me at the touch of officialdom, I looked at the scribe without animation and asked in my turn wearily:

“What do you think? Is it any use?”

“My goodness! He has asked for you twice today.”

This emphatic He was the supreme authority, the Marine Superintendent, the Harbour-Master⁠—a very great person in the eyes of every single quill-driver in the room. But that was nothing to the opinion he had of his own greatness.