MR. SMEETH IS REASSURED 67

/;<He called this morning at the office/' said Mr.
Smeeth.

"Well, I didn't say anything," Benenden continued,
very seriously as he weighed out the tobacco. "It's not
my business to say anything. I don't say anything. But
I keep my eyes open. And I said to myself, the minute
they went out, 'This looks to me as if Twigg and
Dersingham's are moving on a bit. This has the look of
a merging job, or a syndicate job, or a trust job. And/
I said, 'if Mr. Smeeth does happen to come in for the
usual, I'll put it straight to him. It's no concern of mine,
but he'll tell me. I'll test my judgment/ I said/'

"Sorry, Mr. Benenden/' said Mr, Smeeth, smiling at
him, "but I've nothing to tell you. I don't rightly know
what's happening, but you can depend on it, it's nothing
in that line."

"Then," cried Benenden, quite passionately, rolling
up the pouch and then slapping it down on the counter,
"you're wrong. I don't mean you, Mr. Smeeth, I mean
the firm. That's the way things are going all the time
now, Mr. Smeeth, big combinations—merging away till
you don't know where you are—and sweeping the deck,
until—dear me—there isn't a picking, not a crumb, left.
You see what I mean? Now there's a bit here in one of
the papers—I was just reading it when you came in—
and I don't suppose you've seen it. Just a minute and
111 find it. Now here it is. Suppose, Mr. Smeeth, just
suppose," and here T. Benenden leaned across the
counter and his eyes seemed colossal, "I'd come to you
a fortnight since, a week since, and said to you, 'What
about picking up a bit on South Coast Laundries?'—
what would you have said?"

"I'd have said it takes me all my time to pay my own