“Excuse me,” said Boswell, faintly, “but I—I’ve left my note—bub—book upstairs, Doctor, and I’d like to go up and get it.” “Certainly,” said Dr. Johnson. “I judge from your color, which is highly suggestive of a modern magazine poster, that it might be well too if you stayed on deck for a little while and made a few entries in your commonplace book.” “Thank you,” said Boswell, gratefully. “Shall you say anything clever during dinner, sir? If so, I might be putting it down while I’m up—” “Get out!” roared the Doctor. “Get up as high as you can—get up with Shem on the mizzentop—” [Picture: Shem in the look-out] “Very good, sir,” replied Boswell, and he was off. “You ought to be more lenient with him, Doctor,” said Bonaparte; “he means well.” “I know it,” observed Johnson; “but he’s so very previous. Last winter, at Chaucer’s dinner to Burns, I made a speech, which Boswell printed a week before it was delivered, with the words ‘laughter’ and ‘uproarious applause’ interspersed through it. It placed me in a false position.” “How did he know what you were going to say?” queried Demosthenes. “Don’t know,” replied Johnson. “Kind of mind-reader, I fancy,” he added, blushing a trifle. “But, Captain Holmes, what do you deduce from your observation of the wake of the House-boat? If she’s going to Paris, why the change?” “I have two theories,” replied the detective. “Which is always safe,” said Le Coq. “Always; it doubles your chances of success,” acquiesced Holmes. “Anyhow, it gives you a choice, which makes it more interesting. The change of her course from Londonward to Parisward proves to me either that Kidd is not satisfied with the extent of the revenge he has already taken, and wishes to ruin you gentlemen financially by turning your wives, daughters, and sisters loose on the Parisian shops, or that the pirates have themselves been overthrown by the ladies, who have decided to prolong their cruise and get some fun out of their misfortune.” “And where else than to Paris would any one in search of pleasure go?” asked Bonaparte. “I had more fun a few miles outside of Brussels,” said Wellington, with a sly wink at Washington. “Oh, let up on that!” retorted Bonaparte. “It wasn’t you beat me at Waterloo. You couldn’t have beaten me at a plain ordinary game of old-maid with a stacked pack of cards, much less in the game of war, if you hadn’t had the elements with you.” “Tut!” snapped Wellington. “It was clear science laid you out, Boney.” “Taisey-voo!” shouted the irate Corsican. “Clear science be hanged! Wet science was what did it. If it hadn’t been for the rain, my little Duke, I should have been in London within a week, my grenadiers would have been camping in your Rue Peekadeely, and the Old Guard all over everywhere else.” “You must have had a gay army, then,” laughed Cæsar. “What are French soldiers made of, that they can’t stand the wet—unshrunk linen or flannel?”