“And so ends an extremely interesting little visit,” Roger observed as soon as the train started, leaning back luxuriously in his corner and putting his feet on the seat. “Well, I shan’t be sorry to get back to London, on the whole, I must say, though the country is all very well in its way. I always think you ought to take the country in small doses to appreciate it properly, don’t you?” “No,” said Alec. “Or look at it in comfort from the windows of a train,” Roger went on, waving an appreciative hand towards the countryside through which they were passing. “Fields, woods, streams, barley——” “That isn’t barley. It’s wheat.” “—barley, trees—delightful, my dear Alexander! But how much more delightful seen like this in one charming flash, that leaves a picture printed on the brain only to give way the next instant to another equally charming one, than stuck down in the middle, for instance, of one of those fields of barley——” “Wheat.” “—of barley, with the prospect of a ten-mile walk in this blazing sunshine between you and the next long drink. Don’t you agree?” “No.” “I thought you wouldn’t. But reflect. Sunshine, considered from the purely æsthetic point of view, is, I am quite willing to grant you, a thing of——” “What _are_ you talking about?” Alec asked despairingly. “Sunshine, Alexander,” returned Roger blandly. “Well, for goodness’ sake stop talking about sunshine. What I want to know is, have you got any farther?” Roger was evidently in one of his maddening moods. “What with?” he asked blankly. “The Stanworth affair of course, you idiot!” shouted the exasperated Alec. “Ah, yes, of course. The Stanworth affair,” Roger replied innocently. “Did I do that bit well, Alec?” he asked with a sudden change of tone. “What bit?” “When I said, ‘What with?’ Did I say it with an air of bland innocence? The best detectives always do, you know. When they reach this stage of the proceedings they always pretend to have forgotten all about the case in hand. Why they do so, I’ve never been able to imagine; but it’s evidently the correct etiquette for the job. By the way, Alec,” he added kindly, “you did your part very well. The idiot friend always shouts in an irritated and peevish way like that. I really think we make quite a model pair, don’t you?” “Will you stop yapping and tell me whether you’ve got any farther with Stanworth’s murder?” Alec demanded doggedly. “Oh, _that_?” said Roger with studied carelessness. “I solved that exactly forty-three minutes ago.” “_What?_”