From the bare, uninteresting, financial point of view that event would entail some regrettable consequences for himself.  He had been extremely rash.  He had undertaken to accomplish three weeks’ expert work to the value of fifty pounds for which he had charged fifteen, an estimate that at Rickman’s would have been considered ridiculous for a man’s bare time.  He had not so much as mentioned his fare; he had refused board and lodging; and on the most sanguine computation his fees would only cover his expenses by about five pounds.  The difference between fifteen pounds and fifty would have to be refunded out of his own private pocket.  When it came to settling accounts with Rickman’s his position would be, to say the least of it, embarrassing.  It was difficult to unravel the mental process that had led him into it; but it was not the first time that these luxurious subtleties of conscience had caused him to run short of ready money.  It was only another of those innumerable occasions when he and his father failed to see face to face, and when he had had to pay for the pleasure of supporting a fantastic personal view.  Only the view in this case was so hideously complicated and—­and exaggerated.  And this time in order to clear himself he would be compelled to borrow again from Dicky Pilkington.  There was no other way.  No sooner did Sir Frederick’s head appear rising above water than he saw his own hopelessly submerged.

Nevertheless it was this prospect that he found himself contemplating with all the ardour of desire.  It justified not only his presence in the Harden Library, but Miss Harden’s presence as his collaborator.  With all its unpleasantness it was infinitely preferable to the other alternative.  He let his mind dwell on it until the off-chance began to look like an absolute certainty.

Put it then that Sir Frederick recovered.  In this case the Hardens scored.  Since he had charged Miss Harden fifteen where he was entitled to fifty, the best part of his labour might be considered a free gift to the lady.  What was more, in the matter of commission, he stood to lose a very considerable sum.  Put it that the chances were even, and the whole business resolved itself into a game of pitch and toss.  Heads, Miss Harden lost; tails, she won; and he wasn’t responsible for the tossing.

But put it that Sir Frederick did not recover.  Then he, Keith Rickman, was in a position most unpleasant for himself; but he could not make things a bit pleasanter for Miss Harden by wriggling out of it.  The library would be sold whether he stayed there or not; and by staying he might possibly protect her interests in the sale.  It wasn’t a nice thing to have to be keeping his eye all the time on the Aldine Plato and the Neapolitan Horace and the Aurea Legenda of Wynkyn de Worde; but he would only be doing what must be done by somebody in any case.  Conclusion; however unpleasant for him to be the agent for the sale, it would be safer for Miss Harden.