“My luck holds,” thought Colin, and blessed the powers that so wonderfully protected him. In another minute he was in bed, but even as sleep rose softly about him, he woke himself with a laugh.
“That’s where I’ll put the leaf from the register,” he thought. “Priceless! Absolutely priceless!”
It was no news to him when at breakfast next morning Mr. Cecil certified the accuracy of his interpretation of the step.
“Amazingly careless I was last night,” he said. “I went straight to bed after we had looked at those photographs, and fell asleep at once.”
“Night-cap,” said Colin. “I did exactly the same.”
“Well, my night-cap fell off,” said Mr. Cecil. “It fell off with a bang. I hadn’t been to sleep more than a quarter of an hour when I woke with a start.”
“Some noise?” asked Colin carelessly.
“No. I hadn’t heard anything, but my conscience awoke me, and I remembered I had left my keys in the lock of that private drawer of mine. I got out of bed in a fine hurry, for not only was that drawer unlocked—that would never do, eh?—but on the bunch were keys of cupboards and locked cases in the Consulate. But there the keys were just where I had left them. I can’t think how I came to forget them when I went to bed.”
Colin looked up with an irresistible gaiety of eye and mouth:
“I know,” he said. “You were so busy looking after your patient.... And you gave me a lot of medicine, Dr. Cecil, wine, liqueurs, cocktails, whiskies and sodas. I was as sleepy as an owl when I tumbled into bed. How thirsty it makes one in the morning to be sleepy at night.”