This distressed the watchman. He felt uneasy. It was one of those frisky curses, with an everlasting ricochet about it, going on like sempiternal billiards with a bad cushion. He did not think it probable, of course, that it would hit him. He was in such a very humble position in life. But still he would have felt more comfortable if he could have seen that curse getting to work somewhere else. It was not a pleasant thing to have hanging about the house. In the meantime he awaited the coming of Eustinkides. The master had ordered that at the moment when he appeared in sight the hot water should be turned into the bath. For, during the ten years’ penance in the place not recognised by the Atlas, he had carefully abstained from all manner of washing, and had not so much as breathed the name of soap. Suddenly the watchman removed his eye from the telescope, and cried: “Listen, ye that are within the house. For on the road is a curious geological formation that walks, and a staff is stuck in a projecting portion of one of its upper strata.” When it came nearer, and within hearing, the watchman called out to it: “What ho! old alluvial deposit. How’s your ammonites?” A deep voice answered: “I am thy master, Eustinkides.” “Oh! sorry!” gasped the watchman, and disappeared abruptly. Whish! The hot water poured into the bath. An hour afterwards Eustinkides lay in that bath, and soaked. As fragments of other climates slowly detached themselves from him, he thought of his penance and of his journey home. He had stopped at Delphi and put himself in communication with Zeus. “Could you tell me how to stop this curse, Mr. Zeus?” he called up the communication tube. He waited for some little time, and then a hollow voice replied: “One pork chop and mashed. Two in order.” At this Eustinkides had at first been angry; but afterwards it seemed to him that it might be a mystery. He thought of writing to Zeus to ask for a further explanation, but there was the difficulty about the address. He felt sure it would not do to write: ----ZEUS, ESQ., Up Top, R.S.O. So he dried himself slowly, and went into the study. As he sat there, his French cook was announced, to consult with him on the question of dinner. While they were talking, a smell came out of the kitchen and walked slowly upstairs; it was a strong young smell, but it was lazy. It lounged into the study, and sat down under the King’s nose. “Ah!” said Eustinkides, “that is very pleasant. What is that you are cooking downstairs?” “Pork chops for myself and the watchman,” said the cook. In a moment the words of the oracle flashed across into the mind of Eustinkides. “I also will eat pork chops, but they must not be cut from the animal whereof my servants eat. So go out, and catch another pig, and kill him, and chop him, and cook him, and bring me the result.”