Chapter Eleven

THEY GO HOME

"T was coming to a close like any other Friday after-
noon. They were short-handed, for though the new
y, Gregory Thorpe, from Hatcham, S.E., a lad with
a singularly long face and spectacles, far more con-
scientious than Stanley but not so engaging, had been
with them since Monday, Turgis had been absent since
Monday too, and his place had not yet been filled.
Fortunately, they had not been very busy this last day
or two; the rush of a few weeks before appeared to be
over now; Mr. Golspie had not been near the office
since Tuesday, and had not sent in any new orders;
and the next Anglo-Baltic boat was not due in until the
following Monday; so that things were easier. Even
without Turgis, they were getting through the work at
the usual pace. Mr. Smeeth, glancing round over the
top of his desk, thought they ought to have finished in
another half-hour or three-quarters. He would get away
about six, have his tea in comfort, with plenty of time
to spare before the concert began. He was going to hear
that symphony by Brahms, the same symphony he had
heard before, the one that suddenly and gloriously oroke
into Ta turn ta ta turn turn. Another orchestra was play-
ing it this time. It was lucky that the advertisement of
the concert had caught his eye: Brahms' Symphony

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