“Are you often like this at breakfast?”

“Almost invariably. Said he with his mouth full. Exit W. Beverley, L. ”

“It’s a touch of the sun, I suppose,” said Bill, shaking his head sadly.

“It’s the sun and the moon and the stars, all acting together on an empty stomach. Do you know anything about the stars, Mr. Beverley? Do you know anything about Orion’s Belt, for instance? And why isn’t there a star called Beverley’s Belt? Or a novel? Said he masticating. Reenter W. Beverley through trapdoor.”

“Talking about trapdoors⁠—”