Then the lawyer sat down and plunged into law again, folding up the documents at eleven o'clock and putting them carefully in his bureau. Then he switched off the electric light, examined the hall door to see that it was properly bolted, and went up to bed carrying the case of Tidd v. Renshaw with him as a nightcap.

It hung about his intellect like a penumbra as he undressed, warding off, or partly warding off, thoughts about Oppenshaw and his own condition that were trying to get into his mind.

Then he popped into bed, and, still pursuing Tidd v. Renshaw through the labyrinths of the law, and holding tight on to their tails, fell asleep.


CHAPTER VII THE WALLET

He awoke to Mudd drawing the blinds and to another perfect day—a summer morning, luxurious and warm, beautiful even in London. He had lost clutch of Tidd and Renshaw in the land of sleep, but he had found his strength and self-confidence again.

The terror of Lethmann's disease had vanished; the thing was absurd, he had been frightened by a bogey. Oppenshaw was a clever man, but he was a specialist, always thinking of nerve diseases, living in an atmosphere of them. Sir Ralph Puttick, on the contrary, was a man of solid understanding and wider views—a sane man.

So he told himself as he took "Wednesday" from its case and shaved himself. Then he came down to the same frizzled bacon and the same aired Times, put on the same overcoat and hat, and got into the same old brougham and started for the office.

He went into his room, where his usual morning letters were laid out for him. But he did not take off his coat and hat. He had come to a determination. Oppenshaw had told him to leave the wallet where it was and not take the notes back to the bank, as that would be a weakness. Sir Ralph Puttick was telling him now that Oppenshaw was a fool. The real weakness would be to follow the advice of Oppenshaw. To follow that advice would be to play with this business and confess that there was reality in it; besides, with those notes in the safe behind him he could never do his morning's work.