after you."

"Thanks very much. I shall really be quite all right."

Antony went on with his breakfast. Perhaps it was true that inspectors
liked dragging ponds, but the question was, Did Cayleys like having them
dragged? Was Cayley anxious about it, or quite indifferent? He certainly
did not seem to be anxious, but he could hide his feelings very easily
beneath that heavy, solid face, and it was not often that the real
Cayley peeped out. Just a little too eager once or twice, perhaps, but
there was nothing to be learnt from it this morning. Perhaps he knew
that the pond had no secrets to give up. After all, inspectors were
always dragging ponds.

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?