Jimmy removed himself sorrowfully from the doorstep of the Dukeof Devizes' house in Cleveland Row. His mission had been afailure. In answer to his request to be permitted to see LordPercy Whipple, the butler had replied that Lord Percy wasconfined to his bed and was seeing nobody. He eyed Jimmy, onreceiving his name, with an interest which he failed to conceal,for he too, like Bayliss, had read and heartily enjoyed BillBlake's spirited version of the affair of last night which hadappeared in the _Daily Sun_. Indeed, he had clipped the report outand had been engaged in pasting it in an album when the bellrang.

　　In face of this repulse, Jimmy's campaign broke down. He was at aloss to know what to do next. He ebbed away from the Duke's frontdoor like an army that has made an unsuccessful frontal attack onan impregnable fortress. He could hardly force his way in andsearch for Lord Percy.

　　He walked along Pall Mall, deep in thought. It was a beautifulday. The rain which had fallen in the night and relieved Mr.

　　Crocker from the necessity of watching cricket had freshenedLondon up.

　　The sun was shining now from a turquoise sky. A gentle breezeblew from the south. Jimmy made his way into Piccadilly, andfound that thoroughfare a-roar with happy automobilists andcheery pedestrians. Their gaiety irritated him. He resentedtheir apparent enjoyment of life.

　　Jimmy's was not a nature that lent itself readily tointrospection, but he was putting himself now through a searchingself-examination which was revealing all kinds of unsuspectedflaws in his character. He had been having too good a time foryears past to have leisure to realise that he possessed anyresponsibilities. He had lived each day as it came in the spiritof the Monks of Thelema. But his father's reception of the newsof last night's escapade and the few words he had said had givenhim pause. Life had taken on of a sudden a less simple aspect.

　　Dimly, for he was not accustomed to thinking along these lines,he perceived the numbing truth that we human beings are merely asmany pieces in a jig-saw puzzle and that our every movementaffects the fortunes of some other piece. Just so, faintly atfirst and taking shape by degrees, must the germ of civic spirithave come to Prehistoric Man. We are all individualists till wewake up.

　　The thought of having done anything to make his father unhappywas bitter to Jimmy Crocker. They had always been more likebrothers than father and son. Hard thoughts about himself surgedthrough Jimmy's mind. With a dejectedness to which it is possiblethat his headache contributed he put the matter squarely tohimself. His father was longing to return to America--he, Jimmy,by his idiotic behaviour was putting obstacles in the way of thatreturn--what was the answer? The answer, to Jimmy's way ofthinking, was that all was not well with James Crocker, that,when all the evidence was weighed, James Crocker would appear tobe a fool, a worm, a selfish waster, and a hopeless, low-down,skunk.