The figure was plainly sunk into a deep abstraction; he was not aware of their approach, but gazed far abroad over the sunlit station.

Michael stopped.
'Holloa!' said he, 'can that be your advertiser?
If so, I'm done with it.' And then, on second thoughts: 'Not so, either,' he resumed more cheerfully.

'Here, turn your back a moment.So.Give me the specs.' 'But you agreed I was to have them,' protested Pitman.
'Ah, but that man knows me,' said Michael.
'Does he?
what's his name ?' cried Pitman.
'O, he took me into his confidence,' returned the lawyer.

'But I may say one thing: if he's your advertiser (and he may be, for he seems to have been seized with criminal lunacy) you can go ahead with a clear conscience, for I hold him in the hollow of my hand.' The change effected, and Pitman comforted with this good news, the pair drew near to Morris.
'Are you looking for Mr William Bent Pitman ?' enquired the drawing-master.

'I am he.' Morris raised his head.