548 ANGEL PAVEMENT

No. i. He had been looking forward all the week to
hearing that symphony again, especially to that moment
when the great melody would come sweeping out of the
strings 'again. He had tried to remember it fot weeks
and weeks, #nd then suddenly it had returned to him—
Ta turn ta ta turn turn. Brahms might be as classical and
highbrow as they said he was (and Mr. Smeeth had been
making a few inquiries), but the fact remained that the
thought of his first symphony, that dark but splendid
adventure, now warmed the heart of Herbert Norman
Smeeth. Ta turn ta ta turn turn—but no, he must get on
with his work, finish off and see that the others were
finishing off too.

"Miss Matfield, have you anything for Mr. Dersing-
ham to sign? Have you, Miss Sellers? Take them in
now if you have."

Mr. Dersingham was in the private office. He had
been there most of the day. This was unusual, and
rather queer because Mr. Dersingham did not appear to
be very busy. He seemed to be waiting for something
or somebody. Several times during the afternoon, when
the outer door had opened, Mr. Smeeth had heard Mr.
Dersingham come out of the private office, as if he could
not bear to wait an extra half minute or so. He seemed
to be jumpy, too, about telephone calls. Very unusual,
rather queer, not like Mr. Dersingham. Mr. Smeeth
came to the conclusion that it must be some private
business, and therefore no affair of his.

"Now where's that letter from Poppett and Sons?" he
demanded. "It was on this desk an hour ago, I'll swear.
It's a letter about their account, and I told one of you
this morning we'd have to answer it to-day. It was you,
wasn't it, Miss Sellers? Well, have you taken their letter