He took another sheet of paper, selecting from the various stationery that stood in the case a plain piece, rejecting that which was marked with the address of the house, wrote his own address at the head, and proceeded for the second time to write his note of invitation.

But first he changed the quill for his own stylograph, and wrote with that.  This was soon written, and by the time he had read it through it was dry, and did not require to be blotted.  He placed it in a plain envelope, directed it, and with it in his hand left the room, and went briskly downstairs.

Martin was standing in the hall.

“I want this given to Mrs. Assheton when she comes in, Martin,” he said.

He looked round, as he had done once before when speaking to the boy.

“I left it at the door,” he said with quiet emphasis.  “Can you remember that?  I left it.  And I hope, Martin, that you have made a fresh start, and that I need never be obliged to tell anybody what I know about you.  You will remember my instructions?  I left this at the door.  Thank you.  My hat?  Yes, and my stick.”

Mr. Taynton went straight back to his office, and though this morning there had seemed to him to be a good deal of work to be got through, he found that much of it could be delegated to his clerks.  So before leaving to go to his lunch, he called in Mr. Timmins.

“Mr. Mills not been here all morning?” he asked.  “No?  Well, Timmins, there is this packet which I want him to look at, if he comes in before I am back.  I shall be here again by five, as there is an hour’s work for me to do before evening.  Yes, that is all, thanks.  Please tell Mr. Mills I shall come back, as I said.  How pleasant this freshness is after the rain.  The ‘clear shining after rain.’  Wonderful words!  Yes, Mr. Timmins, you will find the verse in the second book of Samuel and the twenty-third chapter.”

CHAPTER VII

Mr. Taynton made but a short meal of lunch, and ate but sparingly, for he meant to take a good walk this afternoon, and it was not yet two o’clock when he came out of his house again, stick in hand.  It was a large heavy stick that he carried, a veritable club, one that it would be easy to recognise amid a host of others, even as he had recognised it that morning in the rather populous umbrella stand in the hall of Mrs. Assheton’s house.  He had, it may be remembered, more office work to get through before evening, so he prepared to walk out as far as the limits of the time at his disposal would admit and take the train back.  And since there could be nothing more pleasurable in the way of walking than locomotion over the springy grass of the downs, he took, as he had done a hundred times before, the road that led to Falmer.  A hundred yards out of Brighton there was a stile by the roadside; from there a footpath, if it could be dignified by the name of path at all, led over the hills to a corner of Falmer Park.  From there three or four hundred yards of highway would bring him to the station.  He would be in good time to catch the 4.30 train back, and would thus be at his office again for an hour’s work at five.