considered as a cat--would never speak to
another cat, and hated being out after ten o'clock at night."

"What happened to it?" demanded Miss Ramsbotham.

"Fell off a roof," sighed Peter Hope. "Wasn't used to them."

The marriage took place abroad, at the English Church at Montreux. Mr.
and Mrs. Loveredge returned at the end of September. The Autolycus Club
subscribed to send a present of a punch-bowl, left cards, and waited with
curiosity to see the bride. But no invitation arrived. Nor for a month
was Joey himself seen within the Club. Then, one foggy afternoon, waking
after a doze, with a cold cigar in his mouth, Jack Herring noticed he was
not the only occupant of the smoking-room. In a far corner, near a
window, sat Joseph Loveredge reading a magazine. Jack Herring rubbed his
eyes, then rose and crossed the room.

"I thought at first," explained Jack Herring, recounting the incident
later in the evening, "that I must be dreaming. There he sat, drinking
his five o'clock whisky-and-soda, the same Joey Loveredge I had known for
fifteen years; yet not the same. Not a feature altered, not a hair on
his head changed, yet the whole face was different; the same body, the
same clothes, but another man. We talked for half an hour; he remembered
everything that Joey Loveredge had known. I couldn't understand it.
Then, as the clock struck, and he rose, saying he must be home at half-
past five, the explanation suddenly occurred to me: _Joey Loveredge was
dead_; _this was a married man_."

"We don't want your feeble efforts at psychological romance," told him
Somerville the Briefless. "We want to know what you talked about. Dead
or married, the man who can drink whisky-and-soda must be held
responsible for his actions. What's the little beggar mean by cutting us
all in this way? Did he ask after any of us? Did he leave any message
for any of us? Did he invite any of us to come an see him?"

"Yes, he did ask after nearly everybody; I was coming to that. But he
didn't leave any message. I didn't gather that he was pining for old
relationships with any of us."

"Well, I shall go round to the office to-morrow morning," said Somerville
the Briefless, "and force my way in if necessary. This is getting
mysterious."

But Somerville returned only to puzzle the Autolycus Club still further.
Joey had talked about the weather, the state of political parties, had
received with unfeigned interest all gossip conc