‘Oh, very well,’ said Sir Charles smiling. ‘I should have thought there were a score of conversational openings to which the inevitable reply would be, “You ought to have been a giraffe.” I may be wrong, but I still expect that the prize to-night will have to be divided between four or five of you. However, we’ll see what luck you’ve had. I’ll begin with you, doctor, and then go on in the direction of the sun and the wine.’ Dr Alden shook his head. He had a strong head, an alert expression, and a bright eye. ‘No good,’ he said. ‘There was too much to do in Harley Street this month for me to be able to give the proper time to it. I made an attempt. It has probably cost me the esteem of an excellent woman; these excellent women never think you’re serious except when you’re joking. I gave her the chance to tell me I ought to have been a giraffe, but she never took it. Enough said. Try the next man.’ ‘The next is our only member of Parliament, Mr Harding Pope.’ ‘Not competing this month,’ said Mr Pope rather pompously. ‘My constituency has made great demands upon me, and I’m unable to defend my entrance fee. Fortunately, the pleasure of the company in which I find myself is worth far more.’ ‘That’s all right,’ said Sir Charles warningly, ‘but don’t get too slack. We’ve got a long waiting list. What about you, Major Byles?’ ‘My usual luck,’ said the Major. ‘I worked the whole thing out completely and made all the necessary preparations. I was down at my cottage at the time. I assure you that during the whole of breakfast one morning I talked about practically nothing except giraffes and the way that they can pull down fruit from a tree, thanks to their thundering long necks. My wife, the children’s governess, and Mrs Hebor, who was stopping with us, all heard me, though I can’t say that they seemed particularly interested. Afterwards my wife and I were in the garden, and I pointed to a tree full of ripe cherries. ‘“I like fruit,” I said, “but I hate climbing trees.” ‘Now, considering the ground-bait that I had been putting down at breakfast, I consider the betting was ten to one that she would reply that I ought to have been a giraffe. Instead of that, she said that Wilkins would get them for me, and then seemed surprised that I was annoyed. A few minutes later I tried the governess with precisely the same remark, and she asked me if I would like to have a ladder fetched. (I often wonder what I pay that woman her salary for.) Then Mrs Hebor came out—as dependable a woman as I know in a general way; you nearly always know what she is going to say before she says it—and I told her that I liked cherries, but hated climbing to get them. ‘“You ought,” she began—and this time I thought I really had got it—“to be able to reach some of those without climbing.” ‘After that I gave up. No amount of intelligence can contend against luck like that. Matter of fact, I’m tempted to give up this problem business altogether.’