There were two alternatives. He might remain a prisoner in that room until Balding returned from his holiday; he could go home, get into the house unobserved and change. He had many black-tailed coats, batteries of silk hats, forests of quiet, grey-striped trousers. This idea was more attractive. Diana would lunch at one o’clock; the dining-room was across the hall from The Study. It would be a simple matter to slip upstairs, change and come down to meet the astonished eyes of Diana. How surprised she would be, and how amusing and unbending he would be! “Didn’t expect to see me, eh? Well, the fact is, I had an important cablegram--just as I was getting into the train. My sidewhiskers? Yes, I took them off as a little surprise for you. Rather an improvement, don’t you think?” His heart warmed to the plan, and there was a glow in the thought that the desire of the morning, that he should sleep in his own bed that night, would be gratified. And there was the companionship of Diana, hitherto an unconsidered attraction. Diana grew on him: he admitted this to himself. If Heloise did go after him to Ostend, that would be unfortunate. He hated the idea of giving her a journey for nothing. But she would not leave for a day or two, and he would find means of communicating with her.... He shuddered; for at the back of the vision of Heloise, stood the large, brutal husband who was mad, mad. There were two hours to wait before he could put his plan into operation. He telephoned from his bedroom to a bookseller’s in the Buckingham Palace Road. “Have you a good life of Peter the Great?” he asked. They had two. He ordered them to be sent to him immediately. He was rather amused with himself. He was less amused when he heard of the fate of one who had aspired to the affections of Catherine, and whose head had been placed into a large glass jar and displayed in Catherine’s boudoir to remind her that husbands have their feelings. There was another gentleman who loved Catherine, and him Peter had hanged on a high gibbet, under which he promenaded arm in arm with Catherine. The arm and arm was a domestic touch not lost upon Gordon. On the whole, he decided thoughtfully, a profound admiration for Peter’s character would have no softening tendency upon any man, especially a man who was mad, mad. He put away his book, drew on his overcoat, and, passing down in the elevator, found his cab still waiting, the meter bloated with charges. He had forgotten all about the cab.