ing the book away.

"Is it all right?" Louis asked.

Horrocleave nodded. "Well, I've checked about forty additions." And he
smiled sardonically.

"I think you might do it a bit oftener," said Louis, and then went on:
"I say, don't you think it might be a good thing if you took your boot
off. You never know, when you've slipped, whether it won't swell--I
mean the ankle."

"Bosh!" exclaimed Horrocleave, with precipitation, but after an
instant added thoughtfully: "Well, I dun'no'. Wouldn't do any harm,
would it? I say--get me some water, will you? I don't know how it is,
but I'm as thirsty as a dog."

The heroic martyr to the affirmation that he had not hurt himself had
handsomely saved his honour. He could afford to relax a little now the
rigour of consistency in conduct. With twinges and yawns he permitted
Louis to help him with the boot and to put an art-lustre cup to his
lips.

Louis was in the highest spirits. He had seen the gates of the
Inferno, and was now snatched up to Paradise. He knew that Horrocleave
had never more than half suspected him, and that the terrible
Horrocleave pride would prevent Horrocleave from asking for the
book again. Henceforth, saved by a miracle, he could live in utter
rectitude; he could respond freely to the inspiring influence of
Rachel, and he would do so. He smiled at his previous fears, and was
convinced, by no means for the first time, that a Providence watched
over him because of his good intentions and his nice disposition--that
nothing really serious could ever occur to Louis Fores. He reflected
happily that in a few days he would begin a new petty-cash book--and
he envisaged it as a symbol of his new life. The future smiled. He
made sure that his aunt Maldon was dying, and though he liked her very
much and would regret her demise, he could not be expected to be blind
to the fact that a proportion of her riches would devolve on himself.
Indeed, in unluckily causing a loss of money to his aunt Maldon he had
in reality only been robbing himself. So that there was no need for
any kind of remorse. When the works closed for the week-end, he
walked almost serenely up to Bycars for news--news less of his aunt's
condition than of the discovery that a certain roll of bank-notes had
been mislaid.

III

The front door was open when Louis arrived at Mrs. Maldon's house, and
he walked in. Anybody might have walked in. There was nothing unusual
in this; it was not a sign that