God! how tired he was! His own bed looked soft and inviting, and he took a pair of old pajamas from a drawer and disrobed as quickly as his fumbling fingers could perform their task, tumbling the contents of his pockets out in a heap on the corner of the bureau. Then he flung himself into the bed and blew out the candle.
Ghosts? Bah! Nothing could trouble him now, and nothing could harm him in the future, for the means was there, within reach of his hand, to carry him far beyond the reach of memories.
With a last waking effort he stretched his arms down and pulled the valise half out from under the bed, where his hand could rest upon it. It was good to feel that bulge beneath the leather! Money was real, all else was but the chimera of one’s thought. There was no yesterday, only to-morrow . . . . His reflections dulled, dissolved in chaos, and he slept.
Below in the library George had replenished the candles and returned to his task. He was tired, too, and this return to the old house had depressed him, but he was glad to have relieved Norman of the packing, glad the poor old fellow was going to get one night’s tranquil rest.
The fishing gear took the longest to sort and stow away, but when that was finished he turned to the boots and clothing with a relieved mind. A half hour more and he would be through.
The pistol and cartridges he laid gingerly upon the table. They must go in last, and Norman should carry that bag himself. George wished that he would not take it, for in his nervous state he might peg away at some other fishermen by mistake, and there would be the devil to pay! No thought of thwarting his old friend crossed his mind, however; if Norman wanted twenty pistols with him he should have them, if only he returned from this expedition more like his old self!
His task was completed at length, and with a sigh of satisfaction George started to close the last bag when a sudden thought struck him. He had packed everything but headgear. Norman must have some old caps lying around somewhere; old golf caps would be just the thing. He hadn’t seen any when they poked about in the closets upstairs. They must be in Norman’s rooms in town.
Then his gaze fell upon the trunk. Why, the caps were in there, of course! He had helped to pack them himself only a week ago. Norman must have the key to it on his ring, and it would be a pity to disturb him now; still, George felt that it would be better not to leave it till the morning. In his methodical, bachelor existence he liked to finish a thing once he had started it.
But perhaps he could get the key-ring and open the trunk without disturbing old Norman! If he walked very softly the other need not awaken, and he could give him back his keys in the morning.
George took up a candle, and shielding its flame carefully with his hand he started up the stairs, tiptoeing with exaggerated care. Once a loose board creaked beneath his feet and he paused, as apprehensive as though he were bent upon committing a burglary.