When Mr. Trimblerigg again woke, he was happy; he had an idea, and the idea was entirely his own. It was not less his own because it had flashed into life during his talk with Davidina, or because it ran on diametrically opposite lines (up to a certain point, at least) from his previous policy of black-and-tan stripes and head-downward reprisals. The thing which had been ‘absolutely necessary’ the day before and on those grounds had been justified, was now a discarded, if not a discredited device. He had found a better. It was inconsistent, no doubt; for if it could be put into practice now, it could have been put into practice earlier, and the tarrings and the featherings and the rest need never have happened. But it is no good condemning Mr. Trimblerigg for his inconsistencies; they were as much a part of that strangely divided unity, his character, as the extreme notes which give the range of a singer’s voice; and even when he had a divided mind, it served like the divided hoof of the mountain goat which gives nimbleness and elasticity to the tread. Often and often, because of his divided mind, his enemies did not know where to have him, nor sometimes where he would have them. In these see-saw gymnastics his doctrine of Relative Truth helped him not a little. Mr. Trimblerigg never worried about methods; he judged himself only by results, and expected the world to have as short a memory as his own and to do likewise. And I cannot deny that if results are a justification for doubtful faith and slippery dealings, results often did justify him; and many of his flashlight successes were won entirely because he had a mind of two parts diametrically opposed, which he never troubled to reconcile. They were there for alternate use and combined effect, just as oil and vinegar are used by a maker of salads--opposites resulting in a balance of flavour. And undoubtedly, though they produced a mixed record, the tactical advantage was great. For what enemy of sane mind could anticipate attack from such opposite quarters as those chosen by Mr. Trimblerigg when he found himself in a tight place? It was not the simple strategy of a general whose armies came into action simultaneously from north and south; it was rather the conjuration of a wizard able to summon to his aid at the same moment and for a common end the hosts of Heaven and the powers of Hell--or of one who came offering peace, with a dove in one hand and a vulture in the other, undecided up to the last moment which of the two he intended to let go.