window.

"A devil's dreams! A devil's foolish dreams!" he cried, with a vicious
laugh.

Presently he stopped from sheer exhaustion. He turned his eyes slowly to
the wall opposite, where hung a weird array of Eastern swords and
daggers, scimitars and spears, the collections of many journeys. He
crossed the room and ran his finger along the edge. His mind seemed to
waver.

"No," he muttered presently; "not that way. There are easier and better
ways than that."

He took his hat and passed downstairs into the street.




5


It was five o'clock, and the June sun lay hot upon the pavement. He felt
the metal door-knob burn the palm of his hand.

"Ah, Laidlaw, this is well met," cried a voice at his elbow; "I was in
the act of coming to see you. I've a case that will interest you, and
besides, I remembered that you flavoured your tea with orange
leaves!--and I admit--"