Beneath was the date of Mason's capture.
"Where was I ten years ago?" he mused.
He looked back through the soiled leaves of a sordid record, and found that he was then acting in a melodrama entitled "The Wages of Sin."
And the wages of sin is death! The drama insisted on the full measure of Biblical accuracy. Altogether, Grenier lay down to rest under unenviable conditions.
He dreamed that he was falling down precipices, and striking sheets of blue water with appalling splashes. Each time he was awakened by the shock.
But he was a hardy rogue where conscience was concerned, and he swore himself to sleep again. Rest he must have. He must arise with steady head and clear brain.
He was early astir. His first act was to send for the Yorkshire morning papers. They contained no news of Philip Anson dead, but the local sheet chronicled his arrival at York.
This was excellent. The banker would see it. A few printed lines carry great weight in such matters.
Then he signed the leases, dispatched them in a typewritten envelope and telegraphed:
"Documents forwarded this morning. Please meet wishes expressed in letter."