“Tact,” he said, “tact and humour. Let ’em think they’re havin’ their way and then the iron hand in the velvet glove--an expression I invented myself,” he appended modestly. “Leave him to me. You couldn’t come to anybody better than me, ma’am. We’ve had several lunatics in our family”--Diana stepped back a pace--“and his good lady is here?” “Aunt Lizzie.” “That makes it a _little_ awkward,” regretted Superbus, “owing to the difficulty of watching him when he’s asleep. Unless Aunt Lizzie would mind? I am a family man.” “She might object,” said Diana. “No, I don’t think that you need do that. If you can keep a general eye on him. He must not leave the house on any excuse.” Mr. Superbus smiled. “You needn’t worry about that, ma’am,” he said. There followed more instructions and warnings. Diana flew into The Study to pacify a distracted Dempsi, whose urgent voice had interrupted her twice during the interview with the detective. Mr. Superbus went into the kitchen thoughtfully. He saw no resemblance between Gordon Selsbury and his uncle. He noted that in Aunt Lizzie’s face was an expression of uneasiness. “Good afternoon,” he said. “My name’s Smith.” Gordon pointed to the door. “Go out and change it,” he said. Mr. Superbus was amused. “I thought I’d pop down and have a look at you, Uncle Isaac,” he said, and bowed to the lady, “and Aunt Lizzie.” He radiated compassion. “Get out!” roared Gordon, red of face. “Go back to the lady who employs you and tell her that I give her ten minutes to hand me my keys and kick her infernal Dempsi out of the house!” “What’s the good?” It was Heloise who spoke. “If you make a fuss you’ll be seeing the judge on Monday.” “I don’t care!” Gordon was toeing the limit. “I simply don’t care. I’m the master of this house and I will assert myself.” “Say, Gor-don! What am I--one of the extras? Ain’t I got any say in this? You don’t care! Well, I’m certainly glad you’re that way--it’s grand. But I allowed myself to be trapped by a she-octopus and I’ll find another way of getting out than taking the short trail to the hutch. And the only way out is to behave.” Mr. Superbus agreed. He was not unprepared for the claim that Gordon was master of the house: against this strange hallucination on the part of Uncle Isaac that he was his own nephew, Diana had warned him. “You’re a good lad and I’m a good lad,” he murmured. “We’re all good lads together.” He winked at Heloise. Susceptible to such signals, Heloise winked back. It was maddening--to what degree, Gordon learnt painfully. Mr. Superbus was so kind and so helpful and so tolerant. Gordon went into his pantry and searched for a large, razor-sharp carving knife. There are some things no man can endure--kindness is one of them. CHAPTER XV