had struck; and that finally it had been agreed on both sides that the
meal should be put in his room at eleven o'clock, whether he was
dressed or not. He said that he often saw his breakfast come in, and
would drowsily determine to consume it hot. But he had never had the
energy to do so. Once, indeed, he had mistaken the time, and had
confidently expected that the morning of a hot breakfast had come at
last. He was dressed by nine, and had sat for two hours gloating over
the prospect of steaming coffee and frizzling bacon. On that particular
morning, however, there had been some domestic tragedy--the firing of a
chimney or the illness of a cook--and at eleven o'clock, not breakfast,
but an apology for its absence had been brought to him. This embittered
Julian. He gave up the unequal contest, and he has frequently confessed
to me that cold breakfast is an acquired, yet not unpleasant, taste.

He woke up when I came in, and, after hearing my news and
congratulating me, began to open the letters that lay on the table at
his side.

One of the envelopes had Skeffington's trade mark stamped upon it, and
contained a bank-note and a sheet closely type-written on both sides.

"Half a second, Jimmy," said he, and began to read.

I poured myself out a cup of cold coffee, and, avoiding the bacon and
eggs, which lay embalmed in frozen grease, began to lunch off bread and
marmalade.

"I'll do it," he burst out when he had finished. "It's a sweat--a
fearful sweat, but----