Mallinson on reaching home unlocked a little oak cabinet which hung against the wall beside his writing-table, and searched amongst a litter of newspaper cuttings and incomplete manuscripts.  He unearthed at last a copy of the Meteor, bought between the Grand Hotel and Beaufort Gardens on the night of Drake’s dinner, and, drawing up a chair to the fire, he read through the interview again.  The something to be known was gradually, he felt, shaping into a definite form; it had acquired locality this very evening, as he was assured by the recollection of a certain repressed movement upon Mr. Le Mesurier’s part at the mention of Boruwimi.  Could he add to the knowledge by the help of the interview?  Mr. Le Mesurier had not known of its publication until to-night, and so clearly had not read it; his knowledge was antedated.  But on the other hand it was immediately after the perusal of the article that Clarice had sent through him her invitation to Drake.

Mallinson studied the article line by line, but without result.

He tossed the newspaper back into the cupboard, changed his coat, and sat down to his writing-table with a feverish impulse to work.  He was unable to conceive it possible that Drake should be unaffected by Miss Le Mesurier’s attractions.  The man was energetic, therefore a dangerous rival.  Miss Le Mesurier, besides, seemed bent upon pitting Drake and himself against each other.  Why? he asked.  Well, whatever the reason, he had a chance of winning—­more than a chance, he reflected, remembering a passage of tenderness that evening.  His future was promising, if only he worked.  Perhaps Clarice only ranged the two men opposite to one another in order to stimulate one of them; he reached an answer to his question ‘Why?’

The extravagances of a lover’s thoughts have often this much value:  they disclose principles of his nature working at the formation of the man, and in Mallinson’s case they betrayed his habit of drawing the energy for application from externals, and from no sacred fire within.

He shut his door and worked for a month.  At the end of the month, lying in bed at night and watching a planet visible through his window, he saw the ray of light between himself and the star divide into two, and the two beams describe outwards segments of a circle.  He turned his face away for a few moments and then looked at the planet again.  The phenomenon was repeated.  He knew it for a trick of tired eyes and a warning to slacken his labours.  On the next afternoon he called at Beaufort Gardens, and was received warmly by Clarice and her aunt.