PROLOGUE ig

and tails, that's ail they are, diving in and out of their
little holes. The good old rabbit warren. Look at it!
Ah, well, it's no good looking at it here because you
can't see it. But I've been looking at it. What a place!
Well, chief-well, captain-this is where I go."

"And the beautiful daughter, the little Lena?" the
captain inquired. "Is she here, waiting for you?"

"Not yet. She's still in Paris, with her aunt, bnt
she'll be coming over as soon as I've settled down.
Golspie and Daughter, that'll be the style of the firm
then, and we'll see what London makes of it. And—my
God—if I don't waken some of 'em up, she will, the
artful little devil. But she'll have to behave here. Yes,
she'll have to behave. Well, captain, keep her afloat, and
remember me to all the girls and boys at the other end,
and let's meet again next time you're over. Drop me a
line to the office here. I'll tell 'em where to find me.
Where the devil's the lad? Oh, he's there, is he? Has he
taken everything ashore? Right you are! So long!"

After a final wave of the hand, Mr. Golspie, a very
massive figure now in his huge ulster, made a slow,
steady, and very dignified progress down the gangway.
When he found himself treading at last the stones of
London, he turned his head and nodded, then strode off
more briskly to the corner of Battle Bridge Lane, where
the taxi was waiting. Two minutes later, he had gone
hooting into the lights and shadows of the city, which
sent whirling past the windows a crazy frieze, glimmer-
ing, glittering, darkening, of shops, taverns, theatre
doors, hoardings, church porches, crimson and gold
segments of buses, little lighted interiors of saloon cars,
railings and doorsteps and lace curtains, mounds of
chocolate, thousands of cigarette packets, beer and buns