Four matters worried him, of which three may be mentioned immediately.  He could not go to the Treasury.  His colleague Hunter had amiably called the day after his seizure, and Mrs. Prohack had got hold of Hunter.  Her influence over sane and well-balanced males was really extraordinary.  Mr. Prohack had remained in perfect ignorance of the machinations of these two for eight days, at the end of which period he received by post an official document informing him that My Lords of the Treasury had granted him six months’ leave of absence for reasons of ill-health.  Dr. Veiga had furnished the certificate unknown to the patient.  The quick despatch of the affair showed with what celerity a government department can function when it is actuated from the inside.  The leave of absence for reasons of ill-health of course prevented Mr. Prohack from appearing at his office.  How could he with decency appear at his office seemingly vigorous when it had been officially decided that he was too ill to work?  And Mr. Prohack desired greatly to visit the Treasury.  The habit of a life-time had been broken in a moment, and since Mr. Prohack was the creature of that habit he suffered accordingly.  He had been suffering for two days.  This was the first matter that worried Mr. Prohack.

The second matter had to do with his clubs.  He was cut off from his clubs.  Partly for the same reason as that which cut him off from the Treasury—­for both his clubs were full of Civil Servants—­and partly because he was still somehow sensitive concerning the fact of his inheritance.  He would have had a similar objection to entering his clubs in Highland kilt.  The explanation was obvious.  He hated to be conspicuous.  His inheritance was already (through Mr. Softly Bishop) the talk of certain official and club circles, and Mr. Prohack apprehended that every eye would be curiously upon him if he should set foot in a club.  He could not bear that, and he could not bear the questions and the pleasantries.  One day he would have to bear them—­but not yet.

The third matter that worried him was that he could not, even in secret, consult his own doctor.  How could he go to old Plott and say:  “Plott, old man, I’ve been ill and my wife insisted upon having another doctor, but I’ve come to ask you to tell me whether or not the other doctor’s right?” The thing was impossible.  Yet he badly wanted to verify Veiga by Plott.  He still mistrusted Veiga, though his mistrust lessened daily, despite his wish to see it increase.

Mrs. Prohack had benevolently suggested that he should run down to his club, but on no account for a meal—­merely “for a change.”  He had declined, without giving the reason, and she had admitted that perhaps he was right.

He attributed all the worries to his wife.