Now he was going into this business as he did into others, methodically.
He, therefore, read what his gazetteer had to say about these towns and
cities, standing, for better light, at the window. But though, the type
being small, his eyes were more pink than before, he was nothing wiser,
the information being of that niggardly historical and statistical kind
which availed nothing in his present scrutiny. He would get Murray's
handbooks, and all sorts of works--he was determined to read it up. He
was going into this as into a great speculative case, in which he had a
heavy stake, with all his activity, craft, and unscrupulousness. It might
be the making of him.

His treasure--his oracle--his book of power, the labelled parcel of
Wylder's letters, with the annotated map folded beside them--he replaced
in their red-taped ligature in his iron safe, and with Chubb's key in his
pocket, took his hat and cane--the day was fine--and walked forth for
Brandon and the captain's study.

A pleasant day, a light air, a frosty sun. On the green the vicar, with
his pretty boy by the hand, passed him, not a hundred yards off, like a
ship at sea. There was a waving of hands, and smiles, and a shouted
'beautiful day.'

'What a position that poor fellow has got himself into!' good Mr. Larkin
thought, with a shrug of compassion, to himself. 'That reversion! Why
it's nothing--I really don't know why I think about it at all. If it were
offered me this moment, positively I would not have it. Anything
certain--_any_ thing would be better.'

Little Fairy grew grave, in spite of the attorney's smiles, whenever he