And it is quite possible that his surmise was correct. The Problem Club does not allow its chairman to sleep when on duty. Sir Charles Bunford requested him to state what Mr Wildersley’s score was; and it may not have been from inadvertence that Wildersley neglected to name his successor and left it to the chairman to do so. He called upon Dr Alden. ‘Well,’ said the Doctor, ‘I had borrowed quinine, of course, but that has been ruled out. I also borrowed some quassia from the same man. No hands up? I think I score one for quassia, if the chairman admits it.’ The chairman consulted his dictionary and said that quassia appeared to be all right. He was immediately asked by Mr Pusely-Smythe if he could inform the members whether quassia was a summer drink or an intermittent fever. ‘At the present moment,’ said Mr Austin severely, ‘I am giving my most eager and concentrated attention to the conscientious discharge of my arduous duties. I cannot be interrupted by purely frivolous questions. Dr Alden will proceed.’ ‘I further borrowed a quadrant and a thermometer.’ ‘I fear,’ said the chairman, ‘that I must rule that the word thermometer does not begin with the letter Q.’ ‘Your rapid grasp of these fine points, sir, impels my admiration. But with great respect I would point out that this thermometer contained mercury, and therefore in borrowing the thermometer I borrowed quicksilver. My remaining loans consisted of a quarto and a quotation.’ But other members had borrowed both a quarto and a quotation. Dr Alden was accordingly left with a score of three. Major Byles, who came next, had done better. In the course of a morning stroll with a neighbouring landowner over his property, he had borrowed some weird things. His list consisted of a quarry, a quicksand, some quickset, quitch-grass, and quick-lime. And as none of these things had been borrowed by any other member he scored five. But he did not seem entirely happy about it. ‘The trouble with these problems,’ he said, ‘is that one has to do absolutely idiotic things, and consequently one is likely to be thought an absolute idiot. I did the best I could. I invented quite a plausible story about a geological friend to account for the quarry and the quicksand. But I believe that my neighbour goes about saying that poor old Byles is far from well, and tapping his forehead to indicate the nature of my complaint. It’s most unpleasant. Still, five ain’t such a bad score. How did you get on with that quagga, Jimmy?’