"Won't you sit down, sir?" asked one, drawing forward the battered wicker arm-chair. "It's all right as long as you don't lean back--but if you do we must prop it against the table." He suited the action to the words, and the guest sat down rather gingerly. "Won't you have something to drink?" queried Kedgeree. "Whisky and soda or something?" Sir William smilingly declined. "Would you care to hear the gramophone?" queried the champion of that particular form of entertainment. "We've got some perfectly priceless George Robey ones--have you ever heard 'What there was, was Good?'" He moved towards the instrument. "Never," said Sir William, taking advantage of the support afforded by the table and leaning back, "but nothing would give me greater pleasure." The disk had no sooner commenced to revolve when Lettigne advanced with a soda-water bottle, a corkscrew and half a lemon, collected at random from the sideboard. "I don't know if you like watching a bit of juggling," he said shyly, and began to throw into the air and catch his miscellany, while the trumpet of the gramophone proclaimed that "What there was, was Good," in stentorian, brazen shouts. Sir William screwed his eyeglass tighter into his eye. "Remarkable!" he said warmly. "A remarkably deft performance! Capital! Capital!" The Gunroom eyed one another anxiously. It was only a question of moments before the perspiring Bosh smashed something; the gramophone record was palpably cracked; their powers of entertainment were rapidly reaching their climax. Then came a diversion. The door opened and the Midshipman of the Watch entered. "The Flagship's barge has called for you, sir," he said. The gramophone stopped as if by magic, and the overheated juggler caught and retained the soda-water bottle, the corkscrew and the half lemon with a gasp of relief. Sir William rose regretfully and held out his hand. "I have to thank you all for a very delightful quarter of an hour," he said, smiling, and took his departure amid polite murmurs of farewell, followed by James. Proof of his appreciation of the entertainment reached them a week later in the form of an enormous plum cake, and was followed thereafter at regular intervals by similar bounty. Lettigne sat down and wiped his forehead. "Phew!" he said when the door had closed behind the visitors. "Who was that old comic? I didn't catch his name." "Sir William Thorogood," replied another. "He's full of grey-matter." He tapped his forehead, and stepping across to the common bookshelf indicated the back of a text book on advanced mechanics. "That's one of his little efforts," he said. Lettigne followed the other's finger. "Good night!" he ejaculated. "Have I been giving a display of my unequalled talents for the benefit of the man who has caused me more sleepless nights than Euclid himself? Here is poor old George Robey been shouting himself hoarse too----"