“I’ve found out one thing,” he said. “He’s used to houses like this. Every now and again he lets something out quite natural. He knew that the furniture in his room was Jacobean--that’s what he called it--and he knew it was fine stuff. He wouldn’t have known that if he’d been a piker. I’m going to try if he won’t let out something else when he sees things here, if he’ll come.” “You have such a wonderfully reasoning mind, dear,” said Miss Alicia as she rose. “If Ann had been with him,” he said, rather gloomily, “she’d have caught on to a lot more than I have. I don’t feel very chesty about the way I’ve managed it.” Miss Alicia went up-stairs shortly afterward, and half an hour later Tembarom told the footmen in the hall that they might go to bed. The experiment he was going to make demanded that the place should be cleared of any disturbing presence. He had been thinking it over for some time past. He had sat in the private room of the great nerve specialist in London and had talked it over with him. He had talked of it with the duke on the lawn at Stone Hover. There had been a flush of color in the older man’s cheek-bones, and his eyes had been alight as he took his part in the discussion. He had added the touch of his own personality to it, as always happened. “We are having some fine moments, my dear fellow,” he had said, rubbing his hands. “This is extremely like the fourth act. I’d like to be sure what comes next.” “I’d like to be sure myself,” Tembarom answered. “It’s as if a flash of lightning came sometimes, and then things clouded up. And sometimes when I am trying something out, he’ll get so excited that I daren’t go on until I’ve talked to the doctor.”