"Well, this man used to go to the wooliest places—Africa an’ Klondike an’ similar horrid spots outside the radius; used to go bug huntin’, an’ lion fishin’ an’ bee-stalkin’. When he got something extra, in the way of skins or wings or feathers he used to send it to Wards, have it stuffed an’ stuck up in his library. When I say ’library’ I mean the place he used to sleep in on Sunday afternoons. But if he got something extra-extra, somethin’ stupendously gape-ish, such as a pink lion or a sky-blue rattlesnake—somethin’ absolutely priceless, he used to give it to some dashed museum. There was insanity in the family, mind you." The Duke cast a calculating glance at Olejoe. "We might leave him at the South Kensington," he mused. "Stuffed?" suggested Hank. "In a box," said Tuppy enthusiastically, "with a rippin’ big label on the top, ’A present to the Nation from a True friend’ or some rot like that." "Or in lieu of conscience money," said the Duke, "from two who have robbed the inland revenue, asking finder to notify the same in the _Times_ newspaper." "Gents," said Olejoe with a forced smile, "foreigners I’ve always been obligin’ to, without the word of a lie. Orgin grinders, ice-cream blokes, an’ ladies who tell your fortune with little dickey birds wot pick a bit of paper out of the box to tell you whether your husband will be dark or fair, an’ how many children you’re goin’ to have. If you treat others well, you can expect to be treated well yourself. Do unto others as thyself would be done is a sayin’ old an’ true—so no larks, if you please." "When you started that interestin’ exposition on tolerance of the alien," said Tuppy aggrieved, "I was under the impression you were goin’ to say somethin’ particularly apposite." "No larks," confirmed Olejoe. "Say," said Hank suddenly, "what’s the matter with sendin’ him to the Tanneur guy?" "Alive?" asked Tuppy in a matter of fact tone that made Olejoe shiver. "Why sure; send him along with a tag tied to his coat—it’s gettin’ round about the festive season when you give away things you’ve no use for." "I feel certain," said the Duke, "that Olejoe could be used for some wise purpose. An age that has found employment for bye-products in general, should not be at a loss for using up this variety. The difficulty about the knight is that he’s going abroad." "Abroad?" "Abroad—whether that means a season at the Riviera or an exploration of the Sandwich Islands, I cannot say. But abroad he’s going, or gone." "We couldn’t send our dear old friend as a courier?" questioned Tuppy. "A sort of unofficial dragoman?" But the Duke shook his head. "The situation is this," he said. "We take a house; the knight buys out our landlord; we refuse to pay rent; the knight puts a broker’s man in; we’re tired of the broker; we’ve no room for the broker; he has outlived his usefulness; _Q._ What should A do with B?