ds. One of my last acts on earth was to allow a man to steal my
watch and chain. I suppose it is useless to plead that this was a good
action."

"Quite. How can you suppose it to be a good action to put such a premium
on dishonesty?"

Then the door of the waiting-room opened and there stood there a most
gigantic policeman.

"Alfred Simpson," he called, in a fruity and resonant voice.

"Here I am," said Alfred meekly. "Could you tell me what I am charged
with?"

"You know perfectly well," said the policeman. "You are charged with
starting the millennium before it was ready."

The shock awoke him. He rose and walked to his father's house. His dire
necessities and abject condition broke down the alienation which had
existed between him and his family, and he was welcomed as the returned
prodigal. On the following morning, decently attired, with a bundle of
IOU's in his pocket, he started across Regent's Park to call upon his
solicitor. On his way he met a shabby man who looked in all directions
at once. The shabby man saw him and ran. Alfred ran also. He caught the
shabby man in an unfrequented part of the park, took from him fourpence
in bronze, which was all that he possessed, and administered to him an
extremely thorough hiding.

He handed the bundle of IOU's to his solicitor. Those who could pay in
full were to pay in full. Those who could pay in part were to pay in
part. Those who could not pay were to be left alone. Nobody was to be
ruined, but Alfred Simpson was to have some of his money back.

And later, some two years later, he married the widow of Hector Brown.
He is on his way to take up an important post in India, and she
accompanies him. They say that she looks quite young and pretty again.
She is certainly quite happy with her husband, though there are some who
think him a little too selfish and dictatorial.

CHAPTER VI

NIGHT IN THE GARDEN: AND THE STORY OF "THE GHOSTLY MUSIC"

There are many things that may bring a man, normally sociable, into that
state of mind when it is not desirable that he shall dine out. Too many
wrong numbers on the telephone, too many visitors, too much
talk--anything in fact that jangles the nerves may be the cause. In my
case the cause was unimportant and uninteresting, but I was undoubtedly
in that state of mind. I had to dine out, and I had not the feeling of
gratitude which would have better become me. The idea of dining out
filled me with rage and despair