"He is disengaged, I think. But I will make sure. Kindly sit down."
Down sat Adam, playing nervously with his hat, and intensely hoping that
no other client would come in and trap him.
"Mr Balsamo will see you," said the secretary, emerging through a double
black portiere. "The fee is a guinea."
He resumed his chair and drew towards him a book of receipt forms.
A guinea!
However, Adam paid it. The receipt form said: "Received from Mr ---- the
sum of one guinea for professional assistance.--Per Balsamo, J.H.K.,"
and a long flourish. The words "one guinea" were written. Idle to deny
that this receipt form was impressive. As Adam meekly followed "J.H.K."
in to the Presence, he felt exactly as if he was being ushered into a
dentist's cabinet. He felt as though he had been caught in the wheels of
an unstoppable machine and was in vague but serious danger.
The Presence was a bold man, with a flowing light brown moustache, blue
eyes, and a vast forehead. He wore a black velvet coat, and sat at a
small table on which was a small black velvet cushion. There were two
doors to the rooms, each screened by double black portieres, and beyond
a second chair and a large transparent ball, such as dentists use,
there was no other furniture.
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