Bobby explained.
"Well," said Tozer, "I forgive you. It was good intent spoiled by atavism. You returned to your old self for a moment, like your Uncle Simon. Do you know, Bobby, I believe this disease of your uncle's is more prevalent than one would imagine—though of course in a less acute form. We are all of us always returning to our old selves, by fits and starts—and paying for the return. You see what you have done to-day. Your Uncle Simon has done nothing more foolish, you both found your old selves.
"Lord, that old self! All the experience and wisdom of the world don't head it off, it seems to me, when it wants to return. Well, you've done it, and when you write your story you can put yourself in as well as your uncle, and call the whole thing, 'A Horrible Warning.' Good night."
CHAPTER III THE HUNDRED-POUND NOTE
Uncle Simon awoke consumed by thirst, but without a headache; a good constitution and years of regular life had given him a large balance to draw upon.
Mudd was in the room arranging things; he had just drawn up the blind.
"Who's that?" asked Simon.