"It's a little difficult to explain, but the idea is this. At most restaurants you can get a second help of anything for half-price, and that is technically called a 'follow.' Now, if they didn't give you a follow, that would be a _Non-sequitur_.... You do see that, don't you?" There was a deadly silence. "Five," I said cheerfully. "The last is _Notting Hill_. I must confess," I said magnanimously, "that I am a bit doubtful whether you would actually find Notting Hill in a kitchen." "You _don't_ say so!" "Yes. My feeling is that you would be more likely to find the kitchen in Notting Hill. On the other hand, it is just possible that, as Calais was found engraven on Mary's heart, so, supposing the cook died---- Oh, very well. Then it remains at five." Of course you think that, as I only had five, I came out last. But you are wrong. There is a pleasing rule in this game that, if you have any word in your list which somebody else has, you cannot count it. And as all the others had the obvious things--such as a nutmeg-grater or a neck of mutton or a nomelette--my five won easily. And you will note that, if only I had been allowed to count my gnats, it would have been forty-five. II. GETTING THE NEEDLE He was a pale, enthusiastic young man of the name of Simms; and he held forth to us at great length about his latest hobby. "Now I'll just show you a little experiment," he wound up; "one that I have never known to fail. First of all, I want you to hide a needle somewhere, while I am out of the room. You must stick it where it can be seen--on a chair--or on the floor if you like. Then I shall come back and find it." "Oh, Mr Simms!" we all said. "Now, which one of you has the strongest will?" We pushed Jack forward. Jack is at any rate a big man. "Very well. I shall want you to take my hand when I come in, and look steadily at the needle, concentrate all your thoughts on it. I, on the other hand, shall make my mind a perfect blank. Then your thoughts will gradually pass into my brain, and I shall feel myself as it were dragged in the direction of the needle." "And I shall feel myself, as it were, dragged after you?" said Jack. "Yes; you mustn't put any strain on my arm at all. Let me go just where I like, only will me to go in the right direction. Now then." He took out his handkerchief, put it hastily back, and said: "First, I shall want to borrow a handkerchief or something." Well, we blindfolded him, and led him out of the room. Then Muriel got a needle, which, after some discussion, was stuck into the back of the Chesterfield. Simms returned, and took Jack's left hand.