“Yes, sir. All that was found on him has been put on the dining-room table.”
“Good,” he said, and went into the room.
Here were all the little things a man carries about with him, which look so pitiable when he is dead. A fountain pen, pocket book, cigar case, and a leather case containing a miniature of his dead wife and his daughter.
Chapter V.
A Mysterious Visit
By dining on the train, Collins had just time to do a Gilbert and Sullivan opera. He had a seat permanently booked, which was to be disposed of if he did not turn up in time.
After the excitement of his daily life, he found these plays, which he knew almost by heart, very refreshing. It was the dear old ‘Yeoman of the Guard’ this night, and he lay back and listened with his eyes half shut, absorbing the delicious tunes like a rare old vintage.
“It is easier to die well than to live well, for in sooth I have tried both,” says Colonel Fairfax.
How many cases he had come across in his work where this was true. Some of the worst of men had earned the admiration of men by their brave end.
He made his way home in the purple night through back streets and half-lighted squares which he always preferred to the rush and dazzling brightness of West London, when he had thinking to do.
He arrived at his flat to find Sinclair waiting for him, as he had almost expected.