"I mean," said the Home Secretary, "it would be a great pity to waste a moment in beating about the bush. There's no sense in mere verbiage and slow approach to the essentials. Moreover, my time is short: I mean our time is short.... I mean there's not much time before dinner, and to tell the truth, that's why I came in here, so apparently suddenly.... What was I saying?" Then, looking up and leaning back again in the chair: "But we need not go into all that. As I say, the great thing is to come to the point at once, isn't it?" McTaggart was tired of standing up. He sat down in another chair, and said "Yes," with a look of expectancy not quite unmixed with approaching boredom. "Well, Mr. McTaggart," went on the great statesman at last desperately, like a man who has determined to take a plunge. "You will excuse my being quite blunt and straightforward, won't you?" "Of course," said McTaggart. "I mean, we have already agreed that wasting time in preliminaries over a matter of this kind ..." "But a matter of _what_ kind?" said McTaggart, now roused--though his guilty soul told him well what was coming. "Well, the fact is, Mr. McTaggart," said the Home Secretary, suddenly uncoiling himself and straightening out the joints until he stood up above the younger man--he felt it gave him a kind of moral advantage, and he needed it--"the fact is, it's only fair to tell you ... only the difficulty is how to put it. But one must be straightforward, mustn't one?" And once more Mr. McTaggart said "Yes." But certain ancient traditions of the middle class were stirring in his blood and he very nearly added, "You doddering old fool." "Why then, Mr. McTaggart, to put it quite plainly, ... well, now, perhaps I ought to say this first. You know my cousin William? The Professor?" "Yes," said Mr. McTaggart, for the sixth time and with a touch of savagery in his voice, "I do. I have been in this house with him for over twenty-four hours." "He tells me, Mr. McTaggart," began the Home Secretary seriously and half an octave lower--"mind you, I don't say I believe it!" "No?" said McTaggart, "Well, go on." "He tells me he has proof, scientific proof-- Mind you, I don't say I believe him! I'm only saying what he said." "Yes," said McTaggart, for the seventh time, and with more patience. "Scientific proof, I say--not personal, you understand. No personal insinuation whatever--only _scientific_ proof that the emerald is or was--shall I say, has been, upon your--damn it all!--_person_." McTaggart started up. The issue was joined. He behaved very well. "Mr. de Bohun," he said, in a slow but frank and straightforward way, "you are not bound to believe me. But not only have I not the emerald, but I will not even take the trouble to swear I have not got it. _I have not got the Emerald_. Is that clear?" "Yes," said his unfortunate host. With a world of apology in his voice and stretching forth a deprecating hand! "Oh, yes, Mr. McTaggart! Yes, quite clear!"