to ask himself. In a commercial age and a country that thinks upon the
surface, his profession receives no adequate recognition. Life is
short; he had better reap the reward of his laborious and expensive
preparation by enjoying those diversions which he of all men is
peculiarly fitted to appreciate.

Leigh honestly meant to be the hundredth man, and to make a name for
himself. He had found what might be called an easy place in contrast
with the drudgery of the large classes he had previously taught. Here
was the time, here the problem. The lamp was trimmed, the white sheets
of paper were spread out invitingly on his desk. A few logs burned
brightly in the fireplace, dispelling the penetrating chill, and the
rain beat heavily against the windows, intensifying the distance of the
world and his own seclusion.

But now a face hovered between his eyes and the paper on his desk; then
the complete figure of the woman he loved came into view, pointing with
her small ivory cimeter another and more alluring road. As one may lie
and doze awhile in the morning, with a resentful realisation of the
impending duties of the day, so now he allowed himself ten minutes of
respite, only to discover presently that his allowance had lengthened
imperceptibly to an hour.

A knock at the door aroused him, and he shouted an invitation to enter,
thinking that Cardington had stepped across the hallway for a chat.
His surprise therefore was great when the door swung open and showed an
unknown man placing his dripping umbrella in the corner.

"I got your message, professor," the visitor began. Leigh was
instantly aware, above everything else, of the extraordinarily alert