he fact that Dr. Quain Short happened to live in Bury
Street. At that moment the enigma of the universe was wrapped up for him
in the question, Why should he have been compelled to walk all the way
from Bury Street to Argyll Street merely in order to walk all the way
back again? And he became a trinity consisting of Disgusted, Indignant,
and One Who Would Like to Know, the middle term predominating. When he
discovered that No. 15, Bury Street, was exactly opposite No. 8, Bury
Street, his feelings were such as break bell-wires.

'Dr. Quain Short is at the Alhambra Theatre this evening with the
family,' a middle-aged and formidable housekeeper announced in reply to
Mr. Knight's query. 'In case of urgency he is to be fetched. His box is
No. 3.'

'The Alhambra Theatre! Where is that?' gasped Mr. Knight.

It should be explained that he held the stage in abhorrence, and,
further, that the Alhambra had then only been opened for a very brief
period.

'Two out, and the third at the theatre!' Mr. Knight mused grimly,
hastening through Seven Dials. 'At the theatre, of all places!'

A letter to the _Times_ about the medical profession was just shaping
itself in his mind as he arrived at the Alhambra and saw that a piece
entitled _King Carrot_ filled the bill.

'_King Karrot!_' he muttered scornfully, emphasizing the dangerously
explosive consonants in a manner which expressed with complete adequacy,
not only his indignation against the entire medical profession, but his
utter and profound contempt for the fatuities of the modern stage.

The politeness of the officials and the prompt appearance of Dr. Quain
Short did something to mollify the draper's manager of ten years'
standing, though he was not pleased when the doctor insisted on going
first to his surgery for certain requisites. It was half-past eleven
when he returned home; Dr. Quain Short was supposed to be hard behind.

'How long you've been!' said a voice on the second flight of stairs,
'It's all over. A boy. And dear Susan is doing splendidly. Mrs.
Puddiphatt says she never saw such a----'

From the attic floor came the sound of a child crying shrilly and
lustily:

'Aunt Annie! Aunt Annie! Aunt _Annie_!'

'Run up and quieten him!' Mr. Knight commanded. 'It's like him to begin
making a noise just now. I'll take a look at Susan--and my firstborn.'

CHAPTER II

TOM

In the attic a child of seven years was sitting up in a cot placed by
the side of hi