ore recovering the hang of it, he was confronted
with a blank wall of forgetfulness.

And there was the bold flight that he had determined on for wind-up.
This had come as an inspiration, down there at Rodchurch over a
fortnight ago, and had been cherished ever since. "Your Grace, taking
the liberty under this head of speaking as man to man, I ask: If you
had been situated as I was, wouldn't you have done as I done?" That
was to be the wind-up, and it had rung in his mind like a trumpet
call, bold yet irresistible--"Duke you may be, but if also a man, act
as a man, and see fair play." Now, however, the prime virtue of it
seemed to be lessened: it was all muddled, unstimulating, and flat of
tone.

How damnable if some insane nervousness should make him mix things up!
Strong as his case was, it might be spoiled by ineffective argument.
But was his case strong? Again the cruel twinge of doubt.

IV

The parquetry all around the square of carpet was so smooth that Dale
had slipped a foot and nearly come down when he entered the room and
bowed to his judges; and now he moved with extreme caution when they
told him to withdraw to the window.

There were three seated at the table, and none of the three was the
Postmaster-General. Two of them were obviously bigwigs--so big, at any
rate, that his fate lay in their hands; and the other one was a
secretary--not the General Secretary--not even a gentleman, if one
could draw any inference from his deferential tone and the casual
manner in which the others addressed him. He was a sandy person--not
unlike Ridgett, but rather older and much fatter.

Once a quiet young gentleman--a real gentleman, although apparently
acting just as a clerk--had been in and out of the room. He had given
Dale a half smile, and it had been welcome as a ray of sunlight on the
darkest day of winter. Instinct told Dale that this nice young man
sympathized with him, as certainly as it told him that his judges were
unsympathetic.

He stood now in the deep bay window, as far as possible from the
table, pretending not to listen while straining every nerve to catch
the words that were being spoken over there. His blood was hurrying
thickly, his heart beat laboriously, his collar stuck clammily to his
perspiring neck. His sense of bodily fatigue was as great as if he had
run a mile race; and yet one might say that the interview had scarcely
begun. What would he be like before it was over? He summone