"'Course he has: Farrell too--Farrell first by a short head. Rather a good idea, my stopping at home to keep goal. Hard lines on you, though; all that journey for nothing. . . . If it's any consolation, the Professor was much affected when I told him of all the trouble you were taking, out of pure friendship, to fit him with a strait-waistcoat. 'Good old Roddy!' he said." "No, he didn't," I interrupted. "And if he did, we'll cut that out. Tell me what happened." "He said he had posted a letter to you from Biarritz: that it ought to have arrived by this time. I told him it hadn't, and it hasn't. If it had, I warn you I should have opened it." "That's all right," I said. "I extracted it from the post-box at Biarritz, and have it here. You shall read it by and by. Go on." "Well, in my opinion, the Professor's pulling your leg--or he and Farrell between 'em. If either's mad, it's Farrell; or else--which I'm inclined to suspect--Farrell's a born actor." "Now see here," I threatened, "I've travelled some thousands of miles: I've spent two nights in the train and one in a French bedstead haunted by mosquitoes: I've had the beast of a crossing, and I'm in the worst possible temper. Will you, please tell me exactly what has happened?" "You shall have the details over dinner," he promised affably. "For you've omitted the one observation that's relevant--your stomach is crying aloud for a meal. The Cafe Royal is prescribed." "Not until I've had a tub and dressed myself. The dust of coal-brick--" "That's all right, again. . . . I admonished Jephson. You'll find the bath spread and your clothes laid out in your bedder, and in five minutes or so Jephson will bring hot water in a lordly can. I, too, will dress. . . . But meantime, here are the outlines: "Farrell knocked in early this morning. He was agitated and he perspired. He wished to see you at once. I pointed out that it was impossible and, as they say in examinations, gave reasons for my answer. Hearing it, he showed a disposition to shake at the knees and cling to the furniture. When he went on to discover that I might do in your place, and the furniture's place, and started clinging to me--well, I struck. I pointed out that he was apparently sound in wind and limb, inquired if he owed money, and having his assurance to the contrary, suggested that he should pull himself together and copy the Village Blacksmith. "While we were arguing it, the Professor butted in. I'll do him the justice to say he wasn't perspiring. But he, too, was in the devil of a hurry to interview you. So I had to play band as before.