“You wash it, of course?” asked Dr. Domb.

“Only now and again, but far less than you would think.  I really take very little thought for my body.”

“Ah,” said Dr. Domb reflectively, “I went all over mine last summer with linseed oil.”

“But didn’t you find,” said the Bishop, “that it got into your pipes and choked your feed?”

“It did,” said Dr. Domb, munching a bit of toast as he spoke.  “In fact, I have had a lot of trouble with my feed ever since.”

“Try flushing your pipes out with hot steam,” said the Bishop.  Mr. Blinks had listened in something like dismay.

“Motor-cars!” he murmured.  “Who’d have thought it?”

But at this moment a genial, hearty-looking person came pushing towards him with a cheery greeting.

“I’m afraid I’m rather late, Blinks,” he said.

“Delayed in court, eh.  Judge?” said Blinks as he shook hands.

“No, blew out a plug!” said the Judge.  “Stalled me right up.”

“Blew out a plug!” exclaimed Dr. Domb and the Bishop, deeply interested at once.

“A cracked insulator, I think,” said the Judge.

“Possibly,” said the Archdeacon very gravely, “the terminal nuts of your dry battery were loose.”

Mr. Blinks moved slowly away.

“Dear me!” he mused, “how changed they are.”

It was a relief to him to edge his way quietly into another group of guests where he felt certain that the talk would be of quite another kind.

Professor Potofax and Miss Scragg and a number of others were evidently talking about books.

“A beautiful book,” the professor was saying.  “One of the best things, to my mind at any rate, that has appeared for years.  There’s a chapter on the silencing of exhaust gas which is simply marvellous.”

“Is it illustrated?” questioned one of the ladies.

“Splendidly,” said the professor.  “Among other things there are sectional views of check valves and flexible roller bearings—­”

“Ah, do tell me about the flexible bearings,” murmured Miss Scragg.

Mr. Blinks moved on.

Wherever he went among his guests, they all seemed stricken with the same mania.  He caught their conversation in little scraps.

“I ran her up to forty with the greatest of ease, then threw in my high speed and got seventy out of her without any trouble.”—­“No, I simply used a socket wrench, it answers perfectly.”—­“Yes, a solution of calcium chloride is very good, but of course the hydrochloric acid in it has a powerful effect on the metal.”

“Dear me,” mused Mr. Blinks, “are they all mad?”

Meantime, around his wife, who stood receiving in state at one end of the room, the guests surged to and fro.

“So charmed to see you again,” exclaimed one.  “You’ve been in Europe a long time, haven’t you?  Oh, mostly in the south of England?  Are the roads good?  Last year my husband and I went all through Shakespeare’s country.  It’s just delightful.  They sprinkle it so thoroughly.  And Stratford-on-Avon itself is just a treat.  It’s all oiled, every bit of it, except the little road by Shakespeare’s house; but we didn’t go along that.  Then later we went up to the lake district:  but it’s not so good:  they don’t oil it.”