Nothing came to him: no glimmer of light: not the least recollection of anything. Then he thought desperately, that perhaps if he were to imagine how it would be if somebody else, not himself at all, were to come to himself and lay the story before him as a solicitor, for advice. Or how it would be if he himself were to go to himself as a solicitor and put the case. When Checkley came back, he found his master leaning back in his chair, his eyes wide open and staring at him as he opened the door--yet they saw nothing. Checkley stood under the gaze of those eyes, which saw him not. 'Good Lord!' he murmured. 'Is the time come? Is he going to die?' His face was white. He seemed to be listening anxiously: his lips were parted. 'He's in a fit of some kind,' thought the old clerk. He stood watching. He ought, perhaps, to have called for assistance. He did not think of it. He stood and watched, his face as pale as his master's. Was it the end? If so--we all think of ourselves first--what about his berth and salary? Suddenly his master's eyes closed; he dropped his head: he heaved a deep sigh: he moved his head and opened his eyes. He was restored to himself. The fit, whatever it was, had passed. 'Checkley,' he said, 'I've been trying to put the thing to myself as if some other man--a client--was putting his case to me. I began very well. The other man came--that is, I myself called upon myself. I sat and heard my own story. I forgot, somehow, what the story was'--he shook his head impatiently. 'Forget--forget--I always forget. But I remember that it wasn't the story I wanted him to tell. It was another story altogether. He didn't tell me what I wanted to know. That is--what has become of the certificates. I'm no nearer than I was. He made out that I was actually selling the certificates myself.' 'You're wandering a bit,' said Checkley, anxiously watching him. 'That's all. You'll be all right presently. You've bin shook up a bit, with the certificates and the notes and all. If I were you I'd have a glass of something stiff.' 'No--no; I shall come round presently. Yes--that's it. I'm a good deal upset by this business. Somehow, I don't seem able to think clearly about it. Let me see'--he sighed heavily--'I think you went somewhere--somewhere for me, before--before the other man came.' 'For Lord's sake, don't talk about the other man. There's no such person. Yes--I did go for you; I went to ask the manager of the Bank whether he held any stock for you.' 'The manager of the Bank. True. Well, and does he hold anything?' 'Not a scrap. Never had any.' 'Then, Checkley'--Mr. Dering dropped his hands helplessly--'what is to be done?' 'I don't know, I'm sure,' the clerk replied with equal helplessness. 'I never heard of such a thing before in all my life. Thirty-eight thousand pounds! It can't be. Nobody ever heard of such a thing before. Perhaps they are about the place somewhere. Let's have another search.'