the Lair. It had not been a tiny hollow where muddy water
gathered; he remembered an impregnable fortress full of men whose
armour rattled as they came and went; so this could not be the Lair.
He had taken the wrong way to it, for the way was across a lagoon, up
a deep-flowing river, then by horse till the rocky ledge terrified all
four-footed things; no, up a grassy slope had never been the way. He
came night after night, trying different ways; but he could not find
the golden ladder, though all the time he knew that the Lair lay
somewhere over there. When he stood still and listened he could hear
the friends of his youth at play, and they seemed to be calling: "Are
you coming, Corp? Why does not Corp come back?" but he could never see
them, and when he pressed forward their voices died away. Then at last
he said sadly to his boy: "I shall never be able to show you the Lair,
for I cannot find the way to it." And the boy was touched, and he
said: "Take my hand, father, and I will lead you to the Lair; I found
the way long ago for myself."

It took Tommy about two seconds to see all this, and perhaps another
half-minute was spent in sad but satisfactory contemplation of it.
Then he felt that, for the best effect, Corp's home life was too
comfortable; so Gavinia ran away with a soldier. He was now so sorry
for Corp that the tear rolled down. But at the same moment he saw how
the effect could be still further heightened by doing away with his
friend's rude state of health, and he immediately jammed him between
the buffers of two railway carriages, and gave him a wooden leg. It
was at this point that a lady who had kept her arms still too long
rocked them frantically, then said, with cutting satire: "Are you not
feeling well, or have you hurt yourself? You seem to be very lame."
And Tommy woke with a start, to see that he was hobbling as if one of
his legs were timber to the knee.

"It is nothing," he said modestly. "Something Corp said set me
thinking; that is all."

He had told the truth, and if what he imagined was twenty times more
real to him than what was really there, how could Tommy help it?
Indignant Grizel, however, who kept such a grip of facts, would make
no such excuse for him.

"Elspeth!" she called.

"There is no need to tell her," said Tommy. But Grizel was obdurate.

"Come here, Elspeth," she cried vindictively. "Something Corp said a
moment ago has made your brother lame."

Tommy was lame; that w