“It’s too late to do anything now,” I said, “but I’ll try and find out in the course of the morning. If I can’t, we’ll get it all in the evening papers. They’re sure to report a case of the sort pretty fully.” I left Titherington and walked across toward the club. I met the Archdeacon in St. Stephen’s Green. I might, and under ordinary circumstances I should, have slipped past him without stopping, for I do not think he saw me. But I was anxious about Lalage and I thought it likely that he would have some news of her. I hailed him and shook hands warmly. “Up for a holiday?” I asked. “No,” said the Archdeacon. “I have eight meetings to attend to-day.” “I mustn’t keep you then. How is everybody at home? Canon Beresford and Lalage quite well?” “I saw Lalage Beresford this morning. I was passing through college on my way to one of my meetings and I saw her standing outside the big hall. She’s in her first junior sophister examination to-day.” “Ord?” I said. “What?” “Ord?” I repeated. “You said Jun. Soph., didn’t you?” “I said junior sophister.” “Quite so, and it would be Ord., wouldn’t it?” “It’s an ordinary, if that’s what you mean.” “An ordinary,” I said, “is, I suppose, an examination of a commonplace kind.” “It’s one that you must get through, not an honour examination.” “I’m so glad I met you. You’ve relieved my mind immensely. I was afraid it might be an indictable offence. Without your help I should never have guessed!” The Archdeacon looked at me suspiciously. “I hope she’ll pass,” he said, “but I’m rather doubtful.” “Oh, she’ll pass all right, she and Hilda. Selby-Harrison may possibly be stuck.” “She’s very weak in astronomy.” “Still,” I said, “the Puffin is a perfect lamb. I think we may count on that.” The Archdeacon eyed me even more suspiciously than before. I could see that he thought I had been drinking heavily. “Titherington told me that about the Puffin,” I said. “He wanted to bail her out. He’ll be just as glad as I am when he hears the truth.” The Archdeacon held out his hand stiffly. I do not blame him in the least for wanting to get away from me. A church dignitary has to consider appearances, and it does not do to stand talking to an intoxicated man in a public street, especially early in the day. “I think we may take it for granted,” I said, “that the Puffin is the man who sets the paper in astronomy.” The Archdeacon left me abruptly, without shaking hands. I lit a cigarette and thought with pleasure of the careful and sympathetic way in which he would break the sad news of my failing to Lord Thormanby. When I reached the club I despatched four telegrams. The first was to Titherington. “No further cause for anxiety. Jun. Soph. Ord. not a crime but a college examination. The Puffin probably the Astronomer Royal, but some uncertainty prevails on this point. Shall see lady this afternoon and complete arrangements.”