Bobbie got back to normal with a struggle. “Why--why shouldn’t she be called Lizzie? It’s--it’s an auntish name. Aunt Lizzie!” Mr. Superbus helped himself from the decanter. He it was who had discovered the tantalus in a cabinet. And rights of discoverers are indisputable. “Good health, sir!” he said, and drank. “Aunt Lizzie!” muttered Bobbie. “What I can’t understand,” said Julius, wiping his mouth deftly, “is, when she’s got a good name like Heloise--that’s what he calls her when they’re alone....” It was not the whisky, for he had not drunk thereof; nor the smell of it, for the aroma had not reached him. The room suddenly spun before his eyes. He saw twenty-four Superbuses wiping twenty-four moustaches. “Heloise! Heloise!” he muttered. “Has she--has she got hair dark as the raven’s?” Julius considered. He had never met a raven, but he understood that it was a very dark bird. “Yes, sir.” “And eyes that probe your soul?” asked Bobbie. Again the detective considered. “Well, she ain’t done any probing as far as I’m concerned,” he confessed, “but there’s something about them that’s--well, peculiar.” “And the sweetest voice in the world?” Here again Mr. Superbus was handicapped by a lack of experience. Voices were just voices to him. “I’ve never heard her singing,” he confessed, “or talking much. She swears a bit at Uncle Isaac, which in my opinion isn’t ladylike. Nor smoking, for the matter of that. The way some of these ladies smoke is very sad. Smoking stunts the growth--which a doctor told me, and what a doctor don’t know ain’t worth knowing.” Bobbie interrupted him. “Where--where is Uncle Isaac?” The reply came like a thunderclap. “Cleaning the silver.” Bobbie reeled. “Cleaning the silver!” he said, dazed. “I’ll wake up in a minute.” He pinched himself, Mr. Superbus watching and ready to offer suggestions. They were unnecessary: Bobbie found a tender spot. “I’m awake--it’s real. Uncle Isaac is cleaning the silver! Where are the servants--the other servants?” Julius could take exception at the “other.” “Miss Ford sent them out, if you mean the servants. I’m here professional. I don’t mind tellin’ you, sir, that my job is to see that Uncle Isaac don’t go out too.” Bobbie began at last to see daylight. If it was Gordon, his desire for liberty was not only pardonable but praiseworthy. “Does he want to go?” Julius thought the question unnecessary. Surely a member of the family knew all about the family skeletons? At the same time it was only natural that he should pretend he didn’t. Julius was a just man. “He’s a bit nutty. See what I mean? He’s got delusions, hallucinations--to use a medical expression. Sees things, thinks he’s somebody else. I’ve had hundreds of such cases through my hands.” “But who put him to clean the silver?” insisted Bobbie. “Miss Ford. Said it would keep him occupied.” A step in the hall, a heavy step.