Bill came in noisily.

Bill’s face was an open book.  Excitement was written all over it.

“Well,” he said eagerly, as he sat down to the business of the meal, “what are we going to do this morning?”

“Not talk so loudly, for one thing,” said Antony.  Bill looked about him apprehensively.  Was Cayley under the table, for example?  After last night one never knew.

“Is er—­” He raised his eyebrows.

“No.  But one doesn’t want to shout.  One should modulate the voice, my dear William, while breathing gently from the hips.  Thus one avoids those chest-notes which have betrayed many a secret.  In other words, pass the toast.”

“You seem bright this morning.”

“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.