It was arranged that the Goblin should meet Ethel at her home that night to borrow some clothes. The cook showed him the menu for Sunday that Mrs. Kent had sent down. This rather daunted the candidate for kitchen honours, but he copied it in his notebook for intensive study. Then, as it was close upon tea-time, he packed up the photos, distributed his largesse, and retired. Mary, the housemaid, promised to stand by him in the coming ordeal. Both the servants felt secretly flattered that they should be included in the hoax. The kitchen classes in England have great reverence for young 'varsity men. The Goblin was a canny man, and he had brought with him a wig and certain other properties. He hunted out a little tea shop, where he meditated over three cups of pekoe and hot buttered toast. Then he made his way to the Public Library, where he spent several hours over a cook-book. He was complimenting himself on having shaken the other Scorpions off his trail when Blair looked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of the stuffed-eggs recipe to which the Goblin was addressing himself for the fourth time. The meeting was embarrassing, but it could not be helped. After Blair had left him, the cook-to-be returned to his memoranda. Mrs. Kent trusted many things to Ethel's judgment, and her instructions as jotted down on a slip of paper included three possibilities. “_Eggs, stuffed, devilled, or farci_,” she had written, and the Goblin was endeavouring to decide which of these presented the least distressing responsibility. He was a student of mathematics, and had attempted to reduce the problem to a logical syllabus. He read over his memoranda: THEOREM: STUFFED EGGS. _Data_: six hard, boiled-eggs (20 minutes). (a) Cut eggs in halves lengthwise. (b) Remove yolks, and put whites aside in pairs. (c) Mash yolks, and add (1) Half the amount of devilled ham. (2) Enough melted butter to make of consistency to shape. (“Half _what_ amount of devilled ham?” thought the Goblin. “And where does the devilled ham come from? How does one devil a ham? What a pity Henry James never wrote a cook-book! It would have been lucid compared to this. _To make of consistency to shape_--what on earth does that mean?”) (d) Clean and chop two chickens' livers, sprinkle with onion juice, and saute in butter--(“No!” he cried, “that's _eggs farci_. Wrong theorem!”)