st now at its most crucial point. It would be fatal to pay any
attention to anything else with things as they are. These scoundrels
will get paid all in good time."

It is a peculiarity of situations of this kind that the ideas of debtor
and creditor as to what constitutes a good time never coincide.

* * * * *

I am afraid that, despite the urgent need for strict attention to
business, I was inclined to neglect my duties about this time. I had
got into the habit of wandering off, either to the links, where I
generally found the professor, sometimes Phyllis, or on long walks by
myself. There was one particular walk along the cliffs, through some of
the most beautiful scenery I have ever set eyes on, which more than any
other suited my mood. I would work my way through the woods till I came
to a small clearing on the very edge of the cliff. There I would sit
and smoke by the hour. If ever I am stricken with smoker's heart, or
staggers, or tobacco amblyopia, or any other of the cheery things which
doctors predict for the devotee of the weed, I shall feel that I sowed
the seeds of it that summer in that little clearing overlooking the
sea. A man in love needs much tobacco. A man thinking out a novel needs
much tobacco. I was in the grip of both maladies. Somehow I found that
my ideas flowed more readily in that spot than in any other.

I had not been inside the professor's grounds since the occasion when I
had gone in through the box-wood hedge. But on the afternoon following
my financial conversation with Ukridge I made my way thither, after a
toilet which, from its length, should have produced better results than
it did. Not for four whole days had I caught so much as a glimpse of
Phyllis. I had been to the links three times, and had met the professor
twice, but on both occasions she had been absent. I had not had the
courage to ask after her. I had an absurd idea that my voice or my
manner would betray me in some way. I felt that I should have put the
question with such an exaggerated show of indifference that all would
have been discovered.

The professor was not at home. Nor was Mr. Chase. Nor was Miss Norah
Derrick, the lady I had met on the beach with the professor. Miss
Phyllis, said the maid, was in the garden.

I went into the garden. She was sitting under the cedar by the
tennis-lawn, reading. She looked up as I approached.

I said it was a lovely afternoon. After which there was a lull in the
conversat