* *

Arthur Horton, waiter at the Popular Cafe, states as follows:

I know Mr. John Parable by sight. Have often heard him speak at public
meetings. Am a bit of a Socialist myself. Remember his dining at the
Popular Cafe on the evening of Thursday. Didn't recognise him
immediately on his entrance for two reasons. One was his hat, and the
other was his girl. I took it from him and hung it up. I mean, of
course, the hat. It was a brand-new bowler, a trifle ikey about the
brim. Have always associated him with a soft grey felt. But never
with girls. Females, yes, to any extent. But this was the real
article. You know what I mean--the sort of girl that you turn round to
look after. It was she who selected the table in the corner behind the
door. Been there before, I should say.

I should, in the ordinary course of business, have addressed Mr.
Parable by name, such being our instructions in the case of customers
known to us. But, putting the hat and the girl together, I decided not
to. Mr. Parable was all for our three-and-six-penny table d'hote; he
evidently not wanting to think. But the lady wouldn't hear of it.

"Remember Miss Clebb," she reminded him.

Of course, at the time I did not know what was meant. She ordered thin
soup, a grilled sole, and cutlets au gratin. It certainly couldn't
have been the dinner. With regard to the champagne, he would have his
own way. I picked him out a dry '94, that you might have weaned a baby
on. I suppose it was the whole thing combined.

It was after the sole that I heard Mr. Parable laugh. I could hardly
credit my ears, but half-way through the cutlets he did it again.

There are two kinds of women. There is the woman who, the more she
eats and drinks, the stodgier she gets, and the woman who lights up
after it. I suggested a peche Melba between them, and when I returned
with it, Mr. Parable was sitting with his elbows on the table gazing
across at her with an expression that I can only describe as quite
human. It was when I brought the coffee that he turned to me and asked:

"What's doing? Nothing stuffy," he added. "Is there an Exhibition
anywhere--something in the open air?"

"You are forgetting Miss Clebb," the lady reminded him.

"For two pins," said Mr. Parable, "I would get up at the meeting and
tell Miss Clebb what I really think about her."

I suggested the Earl's Court Exhibition, little thinking at the time
what it was going