"I thought you'd be surprised. Yes, that's what I'm after. There's a man living near here who's scared stiff that there's going to be a lot of stories about him in that book, and he came to see me at my office yesterday and offered me--" he hesitated a moment--"offered me," he went on, "a hundred pounds if I'd get into the house somehow and snitch the manuscript. And you being friendly with the old buster has made everything simple." "You think so?" "Easy," he assured her. "Especially now he's going to give you the thing to read. All you have to do is hand it over to me and there's fifty quid for you. For doing practically nothing." Sue's eyes lit up. Pilbeam had expected that they would. He could not conceive of a girl whose eyes would not light up at such an offer. "Oh?" said Sue. "Fifty quid," said Pilbeam. "I'm going halves with you." "And if I don't do what you want I suppose you will tell them who I really am?" "That's it," said Pilbeam, pleased at her ready intelligence. "Well, I'm not going to do anything of the kind." "What!" "And if," said Sue, "you want to tell these people who I am, go ahead and tell them." "I will." "Do. But just bear in mind that the moment you do I shall tell Mr. Threepwood that it was you who wrote that thing about him in _Society Spice_." Percy Pilbeam swayed like a sapling in the breeze. The blow had unmanned him. He found no words with which to reply. "I will," said Sue. Pilbeam continued speechless. He was still trying to recover from this deadly thrust through an unexpected chink in his armour when the opportunity for speech passed. Millicent had appeared and was walking along the terrace toward them. She wore her customary air of settled gloom. On reaching them she paused. "Hullo," said Millicent, from the depths. "Hullo," said Sue. The library window framed the head and shoulders of Lord Emsworth. "Pilbeam, my dear fellow, will you come up to the library? I have found the photographs." Millicent eyed the detective's retreating back with a mournful curiosity. "Who's he?" "A man named Pilbeam." "Pill, I should say, is right. What makes him waddle like that?" Sue was unable to supply a solution to this problem. Millicent came and stood beside her and, leaning on the stone parapet, gazed disparagingly at the park. She gave the impression of disliking all parks but this one particularly. "Ever read Schopenhauer?" she asked, after a silence. "No." "You should. Great stuff." She fell into a heavy silence again, her eyes peering into the gathering gloom. Somewhere in the twilight world a cow had begun to emit long, nerve-racking bellows. The sound seemed to sum up and underline the general sadness. "Schopenhauer says that all the suffering in the world can't be mere chance. Must be meant. He says life's a mixture of suffering and boredom. You've got to have one or the other. His stuff's full of snappy cracks like that. You'd enjoy it. Well, I'm going for a walk. You coming?"