As Tuppy himself confessed, what he didn’t know was hardly worth finding. He admitted he was a misogynist, he confessed that his experience had been a bitter one, but he tried, as he said, to think that all elderly ladies were not like the dowager, and few marriageable girls had the physical strength to chuck a feller down three flights of stairs. "Mind you, old bird," warned Tuppy, "the intention is there all right. The will to do, bein’ somewhat hampered by an undeveloped muscular development, it follows that my own experience was a unique reply to the Brownin’ feller who asked— What hand an’ mind went ever paired? What brain alike conceived an’ dared? What act proved all its thought had been? What will but felt the fleshy screen? "Dear old feller, as one who’s felt the fleshy screen grip me by my neck an’ the left leg of my trousers—yes, positively and indelicately the left leg of my trousers—I can answer the Brownin’ feller. It was a remarkable experience. I nearly wrote an account of it for the _Field_. But Monty, poor soul, your experience is milder in fact though parallel in principle. Metaphorically you’ve been scruffed an’ bagged, an’ there’s only one thing to do." He paused. "Sit it out, my boy; be aloof, noble, patient, stricken with grief; go to church on Sunday in deep mourning; start a soup kitchen an’ be good to the poor—that fetches ’em." "Sure," said Hank. "There’s another way," said Tuppy with enthusiasm, "be the riotous dog, stay out late an’ come home early, sing comic songs, wear soft fronted dress shirts to emphasize your decadence, go to the devil ostentatiously—that fetches ’em to." "Sure," agreed Hank. "That is easier," said the Duke thoughtfully. "It was all so very unexpected and sudden," he went on reverting to the tragedy of the evening. "It always is," said the sympathetic Tuppy, "take my case: I hadn’t time to catch hold of the bannisters before——" I think the Duke was genuinely distressed. He sat with his head resting on one hand, his brows wrinkled in a frown, his free hand plucking idly at the velvet fringe that ornamented the throne. "I had looked forward to a joyous winter," he said disconsolately, "we’d got the brokers in; we might have been evicted by the police; I most certainly should have gone to Brixton Prison—I’d arranged to borrow Windermere’s state carriage and postillions for the occasion—and now the whole scheme is nipped in the bud." They sat in the common-room which in the day time commanded a view of the tiny garden, and toward the darkness which hid amongst other things the Sacred Ladder, now alas! purposeless. The Duke shook his clenched fist. "Woe is me——" he began. Out of the gloom of the garden leapt a thin spurt of white flame. There was a crash of glass and a splint of wood flew from the gilded back of the throne.