you--say to-morrow? He is doing nothing."

"No," replied Carrados. "To-morrow I must call on my brokers and my
time may be filled up."

"Quite right; you mustn't neglect your own affairs for
this--experiment," assented Carlyle.

"Besides, I should prefer to drop in on Hutchins at his own home. Now,
Louis, enough of the honest old man for one night. I have a lovely
thing by Eumenes that I want to show you. To-day is--Tuesday. Come to
dinner on Sunday and pour the vials of your ridicule on my want of
success."

"That's an amiable way of putting it," replied Carlyle. "All right, I
will."

Two hours later Carrados was again in his study, apparently, for a
wonder, sitting idle. Sometimes he smiled to himself, and once or
twice he laughed a little, but for the most part his pleasant,
impassive face reflected no emotion and he sat with his useless eyes
tranquilly fixed on an unseen distance. It was a fantastic caprice of
the man to mock his sightlessness by a parade of light, and under the
soft brilliance of a dozen electric brackets the room was as bright as
day. At length he stood up and rang the bell.

"I suppose Mr. Greatorex isn't still here by any chance, Parkinson?"
he asked, referring to his secretary.

"I think not, sir, but I will ascertain," replied the man.