“Thanks,” said the other. “Name, Jones. Profession, advertising advisor. Object, curiosity.” “A. V. R. E. Jones; better known as Average Jones, I believe?” “‘_Experto crede!_ Being dog Latin for ‘You seem to know all about it.’” The new-comer eyed his vis-à-vis. “Perhaps you—er—know Mr. Robert Bertram,” he drawled. “_Oculus_—the eye—_tauri_—of the bull. Bull’s eye!” said the freckled one, with a grin. “I’d heard of your exploits through Bertram, and thought probably you’d follow the bait contained in my letter to him.” “Nothing wrong with your nerve-system, is there?” inquired Average Jones with mock anxiety. “Now that I’m here, where is L. Livius. And so forth?” “Elegantly but uncomfortably housed with Colonel Ridgway Graeme in his ancestral barrack on Carteret Street.” “Is this Colonel Graeme a friend of yours?” “Friend and—foe, tried and true. We meet twice a week, usually at his house, to squabble over his method of Latin pronunciation and his construction of the ablative case. He’s got a theory of the ablative absolute,” said Warren with a scowl, “fit to fetch Tacitus howling from the shades.” “A scholar, then?” “A very fine and finished scholar, though a faddist of the rankest type. Speaks Latin as readily as he does English.” “Old?” “Over seventy.” “Rich?” “Not in money. Taxes on his big place keep him pinched; that and his passion for buying all kinds of old and rare books. He’s got, perhaps an income of five thousand, clear, of which about three thousand goes in book auctions.” “Any family?” “No. Lives with two ancient colored servants who look after him.” “How did our friend from B. C. connect up with him?” “Oh, he ran to the old colonel like a chick to its hen. You see, there aren’t so very many Latinists in town during the hot weather. Perhaps eighteen or twenty in all came from about here and from Washington to see the prodigy in ‘the Park of the Boar,’ after the advertisement appeared. He wouldn’t have anything to do with any of us. Pretended he didn’t understand our kind of Latin. I offered him a place, myself, at a wage of more _denarii_ than I could well afford. I wanted a chance to study him. Then came the colonel and fairy grabbed him. So I sent for you—in my artless professional way.” “Why such enthusiasm on the part of Colonel Graeme?” “Simple enough. Livius spoke Latin with in accent which bore out the old boy’s contention. I believe they also agreed on the ablative absolute.” “Yes—er—naturally,” drawled Average Jones. “Does our early Roman speak pretty ready Latin?” “He’s fairly fluent. Sometimes he stumbles a little on his constructions, and he’s apt to be—well—monkish—rather than classical when in full course.” “Doesn’t wear the _toga virilis_, I suppose.”