THE   WINDOW
perceived, his wife and son, together, in the
window. They needed his protection; he gave it
them. But after Q? What comes next? After Q
-rixefe are a number of letters the last of which is
scarcely visible to mortal eyes, but glimmers red in
the distance. Z is only reached once by one man
in a generation. Still, if he could reach R it
would be something. Here at least was Q. He
dug his heels in at Q. Q he was sure of. Q
he could demonstrate. If Q then is Q—R—
Here he knocked his pipe out, with two or three
resonant taps on the ram's horn which made the
handle of the urn, and proceeded. " Then R ..."
He braced himself. He clenched himself.
Qualities that would have saved a ship's
company exposed on a broiling sea with six
biscuits and a flask of water—endurance and
justice, foresight, devotion, skill, came to his help.
R is then—what is R?
A shutter, like the leathern eyelid of a lizard,
flickered over the intensity of his gaze and
obscured the letter R. In that flash of darkness he
heard people saying—he was a failure—that R
was beyond him. He would never reach R. On
to R, once more. R	
Qualities that in a desolate expedition across
the icy solitudes of the Polar region would have
made him the leader, the guide, the counsellor,
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