Page:Chesterton - The Club of Queer Trades.djvu/49

Adventures of Major Brown more careful glance we saw, seated behind a very large desk with pigeon-holes and drawers of bewildering multiplicity, a small man with a black, waxed mustache and the air of a very average clerk, writing hard. He looked up as we came to a stand-still.

"Did you knock?" he asked, pleasantly. "I am sorry if I did not hear. What can I do for you?"

There was a doubtful pause, and then, by general consent, the major himself, the victim of the outrage, stepped forward. The letter was in his hand, and he looked unusually grim.

"Is your name P. G. Northover?" he asked.

"That is my name," replied the other, smiling.

"I think," said Major Brown, with an increase in the dark glow of his face, "that this letter was written by you." And with a loud clap he struck open the letter on the desk with his clinched fist. The man called Northover looked at it with unaffected interest and merely nodded. 35