His dreams had the inconvenient habit of carrying him in his sleep through the last thing suggested to him; so he could seldom say, at once, exactly how many of the incidents dancing through his brain belonged to reality and would remain his responsible acts, and how many would efface themselves and vanish into the mere film of a dream.
He was quite certain that the girl had challenged him to follow and take their lock-box, if he could. He was quite certain, also, that he had gone in and made sure that Mrs. Varris did, indeed, take a lock-box to her room. But his brain balked at the next act in sequence. Well, he considered with himself, if he really did that and the following ones, he must have the packet in proof. It was put under the rug in the corner. He could decide that easily by getting up. But—he lay back drowsily again, when the gentle but nervous knock at his door, which had first startled him, brought him back wide awake.
"What is it?" he called.
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