again.

II

A LUCID INTERVAL

To adopt the opening words of a more famous tale, "The truth of this
strange matter is what the world has long been looking for." The
events which I propose to chronicle were known to perhaps a hundred
people in London whose fate brings them into contact with politics.
The consequences were apparent to all the world, and for one hectic
fortnight tinged the soberest newspapers with saffron, drove more than
one worthy election agent to an asylum, and sent whole batches of
legislators to Continental cures. "But no reasonable explanation of
the mystery has been forthcoming until now, when a series of chances
gave the key into my hands."

Lady Caerlaverock is my aunt, and I was present at the two remarkable
dinner-parties which form the main events in this tale. I was also
taken into her confidence during the terrible fortnight which
intervened between them. Like everybody else, I was hopelessly in the
dark, and could only accept what happened as a divine interposition.
My first clue came when James, the Caerlaverocks' second footman,
entered my service as valet, and being a cheerful youth chose to gossip
while he shaved me. I checked him, but he babbled on, and I could not
choose but learn something about the disposition of the Caerlaverock
household below stairs. I learned--what I knew before--that his
lordship had an inordinate love for curries, a taste acquired during
some troubled years as Indian Viceroy. I had often eaten that
admirable dish at his table, and had heard him boast of the skill of
the Indian cook who prepared it. James, it appeared, did not hold with
the Orient in the kitchen. He described the said Indian gentleman as a
"nigger," and expressed profound distrust of his ways. He referred
darkly to the events of the year before, which in some distorted way
had reached the servants' ears. "We always thought as 'ow it was them
niggers as done it," he declared; and when I questioned him on his use
of the plural, admitted that at the time in question "there 'ad been
more nor one nigger 'anging about the kitchen."

Pondering on these sayings, I asked myself if it were not possible that
the behaviour of certain eminent statesmen was due to some strange
devilry of the East, and I made a vow to abstain in future from the
Caerlaverock curries. But last month my brother returned from India,
and I got the whole truth. He was staying with me in Scotland, and in
t