“I am. Very bright. Cayley noticed it. Cayley said, ‘Were it not that I have other business, I would come gathering nuts and may with thee. Fain would I gyrate round the mulberry-bush and hop upon the little hills. But the waters of Jordan encompass me and Inspector Birch tarries outside with his shrimping-net. My friend William Beverley will attend thee anon. Farewell, a long farewell to all—thy grape-nuts.’ He then left up-centre. Enter W. Beverley, R.” “Are you often like this at breakfast?” “Almost invariably. Said he with his mouth full. Exit W. Beverley, L.” “It’s a touch of the sun, I suppose,” said Bill, shaking his head sadly. “It’s the sun and the moon and the stars, all acting together on an empty stomach. Do you know anything about the stars, Mr. Beverley? Do you know anything about Orion’s Belt, for instance? And why isn’t there a star called Beverley’s Belt? Or a novel? Said he masticating. Re-enter W. Beverley through trap-door.” “Talking about trap-doors—” “Don’t,” said Antony, getting up. “Some talk of Alexander and some of Hercules, but nobody talks about—what’s the Latin for trap-door?—_Mensa_—a table; you might get it from that. Well, Mr. Beverley,”—and he slapped him heartily on the back as he went past him—“I shall see you later. Cayley says that you will amuse me, but so far you have not made me laugh once. You must try and be more amusing when you have finished your breakfast. But don’t hurry. Let the upper mandibles have time to do the work.” With those words Mr. Gillingham then left the spacious apartment. Bill continued his breakfast with a slightly bewildered air. He did not know that Cayley was smoking a cigarette outside the windows behind him; not listening, perhaps; possibly not even overhearing; but within sight of Antony, who was not going to take any risks. So he went on with his breakfast, reflecting that Antony was a rum fellow, and wondering if he had dreamed only of the amazing things which had happened the day before. Antony went up to his bedroom to fetch his pipe. It was occupied by a housemaid, and he made a polite apology for disturbing her. Then he remembered. “Is it Elsie?” he asked, giving her a friendly smile. “Yes, sir,” she said, shy but proud. She had no doubts as to why it was that she had achieved such notoriety. “It was you who heard Mr. Mark yesterday, wasn’t it? I hope the inspector was nice to you?” “Yes, thank you, sir.” “‘It’s _my_ turn now. You wait,’” murmured Antony to himself. “Yes, sir. Nasty-like. Meaning to say his chance had come.” “I wonder.” “Well, that’s what I heard, sir. Truly.” Antony looked at her thoughtfully and nodded. “Yes. I wonder. I wonder why.” “Why what, sir?” “Oh, lots of things, Elsie.... It was quite an accident your being outside just then?” Elsie blushed. She had not forgotten what Mrs. Stevens had said about it. “Quite, sir. In the general way I use the other stairs.” “Of course.”