onian world. His manner of regaining the Majestic
Hotel can only be described by saying that he 'effected an entrance'
into it. He went to bed but not to sleep.

"What the deuce has happened to me?" he asked himself amazed. "Is it
anything serious? Or am I merely English after all?"

V

Late the next morning, when he was dreaming, a servant awoke him with
the information that a chauffeur was demanding him. But he was sleepy
and slept again. Between noon and one o'clock he encountered the
chauffeur. It was Carthew, who stated that his mistress had sent him
with the car. She felt that he would need the car to go about in. As for
her, she would manage without it.

Mr. Prohack remained silent for a few moments and then said:

"Be ready to start in a quarter of an hour."

"Before lunch, sir?"

"Before lunch."

Mr. Prohack paid his bill and packed.

"Which way, sir?" Carthew asked, as the Eagle moved from under the
portico of the hotel.

"There is only one road out of Frinton," said Mr. Prohack. "It's the
road you came in by. Take it. I want to get off as quickly as possible.
The climate of this place is the most dangerous and deceptive I was ever
in."

"Really, sir!" responded Carthew, polite but indifferent. "The east wind
I suppose, sir?"

"Not at all. The south wind."

CHAPTER XVIII

A HOMELESS NIGHT

I

How exhilarating (Mr. Prohack found it) to be on the road without a
destination! It was Sunday morning, and the morning was marvellous for
the time of year. Mr. Prohack had had a very fine night, and he now felt
a curious desire to defy something or somebody, to defend himself, and
to point out, if any one accused him of cowardice, that he had not
retreated from danger until after he had fairly affronted it. More
curious still was the double, self-contradictory sensation of feeling
both righteous and sinful. He would have spurned a charge of wickedness,
and yet the feeling of being wicked was really very jolly. He seemed to
have begun a new page of life, and then to have ripped the page
away--and possibly spoilt the whole book. Deference to Eve, of course!
Respect for Eve! Or was it merely that he must always be able to look
Eve in the face? In sending the car for his idle use, Eve had performed
a master-stroke which laid him low by its kindliness, its wifeliness,
its touches of perverse self-sacrifice and of vague, delicate malice.
Lady Massulam hung in the vast hollow of his mind, a bril