treet. It was quite
empty. After a moment I returned to pick up the hat. Looking at this,
I saw that it came from Bond Street.

What was more remarkable was that twenty paces away was standing a grey
two-seater. It was quite evident that, for car and passenger to
approach without our knowledge, we must have been extremely
preoccupied, and the new-comer's engine uncannily silent.

After some discussion of the incident, we placed the hat in the
two-seater and proceeded to lunch....

The meal was over, and Jonah and I were washing the glasses, when--

"Now, no guide-books, please," said my brother-in-law. "I've read it
all up. Where we are now was the _ulularium_."

"Whatever's that?" said Jill.

"The howling-green," said Berry. "The monks used to come and howl here
before breakfast."

"What did they howl for?" said Adele.

"It was a form," was the reply, "of mortification, instituted by
Aitchless the 'Alf-baked and encouraged by his successor, who presented
an empty but still fragrant beer-barrel to be howled for upon
Michaelmas Eve." After the manner of a guide, the speaker preceded us
to the gateway. "And now we come to the gate. Originally one-half its
present width, it was widened by the orders of Gilbert the Gluttonous.
The work, in which he took the deepest interest, was carried out under
his close supervision. Indeed, it was not until the demolition of the
structure had been commenced that he was able to be released from a
position which was embarrassing not only his digestion, but his peace
of mind, inasmuch as it was denying ingress to a cardinal who had much
influence at the Vatican and was wearing tight boots."

The steep, narrow street was walled by great houses of the fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries, while at the top a little archway buttressed a
mansion of obvious importance.

"We now enter," said Berry, with the time-honoured flourish of the
hired conductor, "the famous Bishops' Row. At one time or another, in
every one of these dwellings prelates of all sizes and shapes have
snored, swallowed, and generally fortified the flesh. Upon that door
were posted the bulletins announcing the progress towards recovery of
Rudolph the Rash, who in the fifteenth year of his office decided to
take a bath. His eventual restoration to health was celebrated with
great rejoicing. From that window Sandwich, surnamed the Slop-pail,
was wont to dispense charity in the shape of such sack as he found