them on to folk that the public wants to hear about. I get
a guinea a column for that."

"I know the sort of thing," I said. "_'A good story is at present going
the round of the clubs, concerning----'_"

"Not 'concerning'--'anent'!"

"I beg your pardon--'anent a certain well-known but absent-minded Peer
of the Realm.'"

"That's the stuff. You have the trick of it. Then sometimes I do bits of
general information--computations as to the height of a column of the
picture postcards sold in London in a year, and all that. Nobody can
check figures of that kind, so the work is easy--and correspondingly
ill-paid!" (I cannot reproduce the number of contemptuous _r_'s that
Robin threw into the adverb.)

"It's a fine useful place the Museum," he continued reflectively. "You
were busy there this morning yourself. You would be collecting _data_
anent--I mean _about_--the Island of Caerulea."

I sat up in surprise at this.

"How on earth----?" I began.

"Oh, I just jal--guessed it. You being the only member of his Majesty's
Government in whom I have any personal interest, I have always followed
your career closely. (You gave me your card, you'll mind.) Well, I saw
you were having trouble with yon havering body Wuddiford--I once
reported at one of his meetings: he's just a sweetie-wife in
_pince-nez_--and when I saw you busy with an atlas and gazetteer I said
to myself:--'He'll be getting up a few salient facts about the place, in
order to appease the honourable member's insatiable thirst for
knowledge--Toots, there I go again! Man, the journalese fairly soaks
into the system. I doubt now if I could write out twenty lines of
'Paradise Lost' without cross-heading them!"

We finished our cigar over talk like this, and finally rose to go. Robin
lingered upon the steps of the restaurant. I realised that he, being a
Scotsman, was endeavouring to pump up the emotional gratitude which he
felt sure that I, as an Englishman, would expect from a starving pauper
who had lunched at my expense.

"I must thank you," he said at last, rather awkwardly, "for a most
pleasant luncheon. And I should like fine," he added suddenly and
impetuously, "to make out a _precis_ for you on the subject of Caerulea.
Never heed it yourself! Away home, and I'll send it to you to-morrow!"

An idea which had been maturing in my slow-moving brain for some time
suddenly took a definite shape.

"It is extremely kind of you," I said. "I shall be delighted to