CHAPTER IV.
LEFT alone in the drawing-room, Moody looked at the unfastened envelope on the table.
Considering the value of the inclosure, might he feel justified in wetting the gum and securing the envelope for safety's sake?
After thinking it over, Moody decided that he was not justified in meddling with the letter.

On reflection, her Ladyship might have changes to make in it or might have a postscript to add to what she had already written.
Apart too, from these considerations, was it reasonable to act as if Lady Lydiard's house was a hotel, perpetually open to the intrusion of strangers?
Objects worth twice five hundred pounds in the aggregate were scattered about on the tables and in the unlocked cabinets all round him.

Moody withdrew, without further hesitation, to order the light restorative prescribed for himself by Mr.Sweetsir.
The footman who took the curacoa into the picture gallery found Felix recumbent on a sofa, admiring the famous Hobbema.
"Don't interrupt me," he said peevishly, catching the servant in the act of staring at him.

"Put down the bottle and go!" Forbidden to look at Mr.Sweetsir, the man's eyes as he left the gallery turned wonderingly towards the famous landscape.

And what did he see?
He saw one towering big cloud in the sky that threatened rain, two withered mahogany-colored trees sorely in want of rain, a muddy road greatly the worse for rain, and a vagabond boy running home who was afraid of the rain.