MR. DEELING was lying in a rattan chair overlooking the rose garden.
Three days had passed since the hay party, and he had spent most of the time in explaining very clearly to himself what had happened. He had overworked, and the heat had not unnaturally been too much for him. For two days he had lain in bed, while for the third and most of the fourth day he had been confined to the garden.
It was now nearly seven o’clock, and he would shortly go for a little stroll, nothing strenuous, because he was still feeling somewhat weak, probably from the effects of the powerful tonic which they had insisted on giving him.
He had not started earlier owing to the heat. It had grown no cooler these last four days. He had come to dread the slow climbing of the sun to the summit of its brazen arc, f
