hat?"

"Mr. Saffron's medical attendant is Dr. Arkroyd."

As he spoke the noise from above suddenly ceased. Since neither of the
men in the parlor spoke, there ensued a minute of what seemed intense
silence; it was such a change.

Then came a still small sound, a creaking of wood from overhead.

"I think you'd better go, Naylor, if you don't mind. After a performance
of that kind he generally comes and tells me about it. And he may be, I
don't know at all for certain, annoyed to find you here."

Alec Naylor got up from the big chair, but it was not to take his
departure.

"I want to see him, Beaumaroy," he said brusquely and rather
authoritatively.

Beaumaroy raised his brows. "I won't take you to his room, or let you go
there if I can help it. But if he comes down, well, you can stay and see
him. It may get me into a scrape, but that doesn't matter much."

"My point of view is--"

"My dear fellow, I know your point of view perfectly. It is that you are
personally responsible for the universe, apparently just because you wear
a uniform."

No other sound had come from above or from the stairs, but the door now
opened suddenly, and Mr. Saffron stood on the threshold. He wore
slippers, a pair of checked trousers, and his bedroom jacket of pale
blue; in addition, the gray shawl, which he wore on his walks, was again
swathed closely round him. Only his right arm was free from it; in his
hand was a silver bedroom candlestick. From his pale face and under his
snowy hair his blue eyes gleamed brightly. As Alec first caught sight of
him, he was smiling happily, and he called out triumphantly: "That was a
good one! That went well, Hector!"

Then he saw Alec's tall figure by the fire. He grew grave, closed the
door carefully, and advanced to the table, on which he set down the
candlestick. After a momentary look at Alec, he turned his gaze
inquiringly towards Beaumaroy.

"I'm afraid we're keeping it up rather late, sir," said the latter in a
tone of respectful yet easy apology, "but I took an airing in the road
after you went to bed, and there I found my friend here on his way home;
and since it was Christmas--"

Mr. Saffron bowed his head in acquiescence; he showed no sign of anger.
"Present your friend to me, Hector," he requested, or ordered, gravely.

"Captain Naylor, sir, Distinguished Service Order; Duffshire Fusiliers."

The Captain was in uniform and, during his talk with Beaumaroy, had not
thought of ta