“Of course,” said Mr. Bunting, taking out and wiping his spectacles and feeling suddenly very uncomfortable⁠—for he had no Greek left in his mind worth talking about; “yes⁠—the Greek, of course, may furnish a clue.”

“I’ll find you a place.”

“I’d rather glance through the volumes first,” said Mr. Bunting, still wiping. “A general impression first, Cuss, and then , you know, we can go looking for clues.”

He coughed, put on his glasses, arranged them fastidiously, coughed again, and wished something would happen to avert the seemingly inevitable exposure. Then he took the volume Cuss handed him in a leisurely manner. And then something did happen.

The door opened suddenly.