A very serious thing has occurred. I went to my appointment with the prime minister, taking Milray’s sealed letter. It didn’t look as though it had been tampered with, but inside was a blank sheet of paper!

Now, I suppose, I’m in the devil of a mess. Why I ever let that bleating old fool Milray embroil me in the matter I can’t think.

Pagett is a famous Job’s comforter. He displays a certain gloomy satisfaction that maddens me. Also, he has taken advantage of my perturbation to saddle me with the stationery trunk. Unless he is careful, the next funeral he attends will be his own.

However, in the end I had to listen to him.

“Supposing, Sir Eustace, that Rayburn had overheard a word or two of your conversation with Mr. Milray in the street? Remember, you had no written authority from Mr. Milray. You accepted Rayburn on his own valuation.”