When Sam, reaching the office after his journey, opened the door, this
clerk, John Peters by name, was seated on a high stool, holding in one
hand a half-eaten sausage, in the other an extraordinary large and
powerful revolver. At the sight of Sam he laid down both engines of
destruction and beamed. He was not a particularly successful beamer,
being hampered by a cast in one eye which gave him a truculent and
sinister look; but those who knew him knew that he had a heart of gold
and were not intimidated by his repellent face. Between Sam and himself
there had always existed terms of cordiality, starting from the time
when the former was a small boy, and it had been Jno. Peters' mission
to take him now to the Zoo, now to the train back to school.
"Why, Mr. Samuel!"
"Hullo, Peters!"
"We were expecting you back a week ago. So you got back safe?"
"Safe? Why, of course,"
Peters shook his head.
"I confess that, when there was this delay in your coming here, I
sometimes feared something might have happened to you.
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