The other looked puzzled. "On everything, Mr. Craik."

"Don't you charge for your time?"

Guidet smiled and spread his hands. "Ah, you are not so unwell when you
can make the jokes! Two hundred pounds was the price, and I have received
seventy of it and the grandest, best holiday--"

"Your wife and children have had no holiday," said Christopher,
continuing his writing.

"They have been happy that I am no longer a failure. They shall have a
little holiday now, my best of friends, and then I take the small share
in the business I told you about. Oh, it is all well with us, all rosy as
a--a rose! But you!" His voice trailed off in a sigh.

"I am only sorry I shall not be your first customer, Guidet." Christopher
blotted the cheque and handed it across the table. "So you must oblige me
by accepting instead what I have written there."

The little man read the words--the figures--and gulped. Then his arms
went out as if to embrace the man who sat smiling so very wearily. "It is
too much--too much!" he cried, almost weeping. "You are rich, but
why--why do you give me five hundred pounds?"

"Perhaps," said Christopher sadly, "that you may remember me kindly." His
hand, now shaky, went up to check the other's flow of gratitude. "I'm
afraid I must ask you to go now. I must rest--you understand?"

Guidet rose. "So long as we live," he said solemnly, "my family and I