The prof was eyeing me with some natural surprise. So were the others. I beamed a bit weakly.

“Well, as a matter of fact⁠—” I said.

The prof was wrestling with the situation. You could hear his brain buzzing.

“He said he was Oliver Sipperley,” he moaned.

“Come here!” bellowed Sir Roderick. “Am I to understand that you have inflicted yourself on this household under the pretence of being the nephew of an old friend?”

It seemed a pretty accurate description of the facts.

“Well⁠—er⁠—yes,” I said.

Sir Roderick shot an eye at me. It entered the body somewhere about the top stud, roamed around inside for a bit, and went out at the back.

“Insane! Quite insane, as I knew from the first moment I saw him.”