Continued on page six, column four.

Yes, Evening Telegraph here, Mr Bloom phoned from the inner office. Is the boss...? Yes, Telegraph... To where? Aha! Which auction rooms?... Aha! I see... Right. I’ll catch him.

A COLLISION ENSUES

The bell whirred again as he rang off. He came in quickly and bumped against Lenehan who was struggling up with the second tissue.

Pardon, monsieur, Lenehan said, clutching him for an instant and making a grimace.

My fault, Mr Bloom said, suffering his grip. Are you hurt? I’m in a hurry.

Knee, Lenehan said.

He made a comic face and whined, rubbing his knee: