his one as I
was passing, and I went inside to study its habits. They are very
interesting little things to watch--very."

Fortified by the approval of a conscience that never found fault, he
met the searchlight gaze that the junior partner turned upon him without
flinching. Quite calm, although somewhat puzzled by the other's manner,
he stood awaiting his pleasure.

"Yes," said Robert Vyner, at last; "very interesting indeed, I should
think; but you have forgotten one thing, Bassett. When secreted behind a
hedge watching one of these diverting little--er----"

"Gasteropodous molluscs, sir," interjected Bassett, respectfully.

"Exactly," said the other. "Just the word I was trying to think of. When
behind a hedge watching them it is always advisable to whistle as loudly
and as clearly as you can."

"I never heard that, sir," said Bassett, more and more perplexed. "It's
not in my book, but I remember once reading, when I was at school, that
spiders are sometimes attracted by the sound of a flute."

"A flute would do," said Mr. Vyner, still watching him closely; "but a
cornet would be better still. Good-morning."

He left Bassett gazing after him round-eyed, and, carefully refraining
from looking at Hartley's windows, walked on at a smart pace. As he
walked he began to wish that he had not talked so much; a vision of
Bassett retailing the conversation of the morning to longer heads than
his own in the office recurring to him with tiresome persistency. And,
on the other hand, he regretted that he had not crossed the road and
made sure that there was a snail.

Busy with his thoughts he tramped on mechanically, until, pausing on a
piece of high ground to admire the view, he was surprised to see that
the town lay so far behind. At the same time sudden urgent promptings
from within bore eloquent testimony to the virtues of early rising and
exercise as aids to appetite. With ready obedience he began to retrace
his steps.

The business of the day was just beginning as he entered the outskirts
of the town again. Blinds were drawn aside and maid-servants busy at
front doors. By the time he drew near Laurel Lodge--the name was
the choice of a former tenant--the work of the day had begun in real
earnest. Instinctively slackening his pace, he went by the house with
his eyes fastened on the hedge opposite, being so intent on what might,
perhaps, be described as a visual alibi for Bassett's benefit, in case
the lad still hap