Julius was all innocence. A wreath of wild flowers about his head would not have made him more coyishly artless. Bobbie was not deceived. “Game, sir?” “Why are you in this house, got up like a comic seneschal? Does Miss Ford know who you are?” Mr. Superbus closed the door quickly and put his finger to his lips. “‘Ush!” he said mysteriously. Bobbie waited. “Well, I’m ’ushing,” he said impatiently. Julius tiptoed to The Study and beckoned him through the doorway. He had the air of a respectable conspirator; one who knew that whenever the mine exploded he would be out of the way and could, in certain eventualities, be an acceptable witness for the prosecution. “She sent for me,” he said darkly. “Asked me to come and stay here--I come! Could I refuse? If there’s any danger I like to be on the spot. That’s me!” Bobbie thought he understood Diana’s motive. She wanted a man in the house; he was not alone in respecting the genius of Double Dan. “Oh, I see. Sensible girl!” Mr. Superbus nodded. “Yes, sir, very sensible. I don’t know anybody sensibler. She came to the right man. Me.” “I was talking to myself,” a little stiffly. Julius inclined his head again. “Yes, sir; we both heard you,” he said. “I’ve got wonderful ears.” “I understand Miss Ford was alone in the house and she asked you to come and stay? I’m glad.” “Well, not exactly alone,” explained Mr. Superbus, loath to share the honours which were rightly his as Chief Protector. “Of course, there’s Uncle Isaac.” Bobbie’s mouth opened. “Unc--Uncle Isaac? Uncle Isaac who?” Julius had meant to ask this question at the first opportunity. “I don’t know his other name--very bad-tempered gentleman. He has fits; and....” He tapped his forehead, but Bobbie did not grasp the sense of the pantomime. “Uncle Isaac! Suffering Moses!” Mr. Superbus shook his head. “No, sir, _he_ hasn’t come yet. They must be Hebrew gentlemen. Only Uncle Isaac and Mr. Dempsi.” Bobbie knew about Dempsi. “--and Aunt Lizzie,” concluded Julius. Bobbie staggered, grasped the mantelpiece for support, and turned a wan countenance to the shirt-fronted butler. The unreality of the position was intensified. Presently Julius would produce two rabbits and a bowl of goldfish from a silk hat, and Diana would skip on to the scene in a ballet dress and a fixed smile. And then Bobbie would wake up. “Do you mind pouring out a drink?” he asked faintly. “My hand’s not steady.” The Great Detective opened the tantalus with an air of pride and poured forth a potion. “Say ‘when,’” he said. He would have made a good barman, he was so talkative. “Aunt Lizzie, I think you said?” Bobbie had reviewed his relations, but no Aunt Lizzie showed in their serried ranks. “Yes, sir--she came with Uncle Isaac, yesterday afternoon. Rare pretty young lady she is too. Naturally she and Uncle Isaac don’t get on well together. Fancy calling her Lizzie! It’s common. And when there’s nice names like Maud and Ethel and Agnes to choose from.”