ILLUSTRATIONS

    Sparks fell upon the shoulders of the two white figures (page 9)

    “I’m lawyer enough to know,” He said, “That A question like that is
    not permissible”

    “Oh, master receive me!”

    “I knew that I was lost”

CHAPTER I

THE FALLING STAR

I was genuinely tired when I got back to the office, that Wednesday afternoon, for it had been a trying day—­the last of the series of trying days which had marked the progress of the Minturn case; and my feeling of depression was increased by the fact that our victory had not been nearly so complete as I had hoped it would be.  Besides, there was the heat; always, during the past ten days, there had been the heat, unprecedented for June, with the thermometer climbing higher and higher and breaking a new record every day.

As I threw off coat and hat and dropped into the chair before my desk, I could see the heat-waves quivering up past the open windows from the fiery street below.  I turned away and closed my eyes, and tried to evoke a vision of white surf falling upon the beach, of tall trees swaying in the breeze, of a brook dropping gently between green banks.

    “Fountains that frisk and sprinkle
    The moss they overspill;
    Pools that the breezes crinkle,"...

and then I stopped, for the door had opened.  I unclosed my eyes to see the office-boy gazing at me in astonishment.  He was a well-trained boy, and recovered himself in an instant.

“Your mail, sir,” he said, laid it at my elbow, and went out.

I turned to the letters with an interest the reverse of lively.  The words of Henley’s ballade were still running through my head—­

    “Vale-lily and periwinkle;
    Wet stone-crop on the sill;
    The look of leaves a-twinkle
    With windlets,"...

Again I stopped, for again the door opened, and again the office-boy appeared.

“Mr. Godfrey, sir,” he said, and close upon the words, Jim Godfrey entered, looking as fresh and cool and invigorating as the fountains and brooks and pools I had been thinking of.

“How do you do it, Godfrey?” I asked, as he sat down.

“Do what?”

“Keep so fit.”

“By getting a good sleep every night.  Do you?”

I groaned as I thought of the inferno I called my bedroom.

“I haven’t really slept for a week,” I said.

“Well, you’re going to sleep to-night.  That’s the reason I’m here.  I saw you in court this afternoon—­one glance was enough.”

“Yes,” I assented; “one glance would be.  But what’s the proposition?”

“I’m staying at a little place I’ve leased for the summer up on the far edge of the Bronx.  I’m going to take you up with me to-night and I’m going to keep you there till Monday.  That will give you five nights’ sleep and four days’ rest.  Don’t you think you deserve it?”