"If he'll come over," said the vicar, his eyes alight with anticipation and the hope of a talk with this famous expert on the subjects nearest his own heart, "bring him, _please_. There is nothing I should like better than a chat with him. I know his _Modern Discoveries and Holy Writ_ almost by heart." They watched Spence go across to Sir Robert's table. The big man started as he was spoken to, looked up in surprise, then smiled with pleasure, and extended a welcoming hand. Spence sat down beside him and they were soon in the middle of a brisk conversation. "The poor man looked very bored until Mr. Spence spoke to him," said Helena. "Father, I'm sure you'll have your wish. He seems glad to have some one to talk to." She was right. After a minute or two the journalist returned with Llwellyn, and the five of them were soon in a full flood of talk. "I was going to dine alone at my hotel," said the Professor, at length; "but Spence says that he knows of a decent restaurant here. I wonder if you would let me be one of your party? I'm quite alone in Dieppe for a couple of days. I'm waiting for a friend with whom I am going to travel." "Oh, do come, Sir Robert," said the vicar, with manifest pleasure. "Are you going to be away from England for long?" "I have leave from the British Museum for a year," said the Professor. "My doctor says that I require absolute rest. I am _en route_ for Marseilles and from there to Alexandria." The Pannier d'Or proved a pleasant little place, and the dinner was excellent. The Professor surprised and then amused the others by his criticism of the viands. He made the dinner his especial business, sent for the cook and had a serious conversation with him, chose the wines with extreme care. His knowledge of the culinary art was enormous, and he treated it with a kind of reverence, addressing himself more particularly to Helena. "Yes, Miss Byars, you must be _most_ careful in the preparation of really good crayfish soup. This is excellent. The great secret is to flavour with a little lobster spawn and to mix the crumb of a French roll with the stock--white stock of course--before you add the powdered shells and anchovies." Many times, despite his impatience to get to deeper and more congenial subjects, the vicar smiled at the purring of this gourmet, who seemed to prefer a sauce to an inscription and rissoles to research. But with the special coffee--covered with fine yellow foam and sweetened with crystals of amber sugar--the vicar's hour came. Sir Robert realised that it was inevitable and with a half sigh gave the required opening. Once started, his manner changed utterly. The mask of materialism peeled away from his face, which became younger, brighter, as thought animated it, and new, finer lines cames out upon it as knowledge poured from him.