“There’s your book, Sir!” cried Wolf, completely disregarding Jason. “I finished it last night and brought it straight up to you. It’s really something⁠ ⁠… this ⁠ ⁠… that we’ve done together! If we can get it printed I believe it’ll make an impression⁠ ⁠… even on Otter’s attention.”

“Otter’s attention” seemed, certainly at that moment, paralyzed by the great parchment-covered volume, lying on the Malmsey-stained table.

Very slowly he bent down and opened it at random, letting half the pages lean against the decanter. “You write like a person who knows Greek,” he said gravely to Wolf. Wolf bowed.

“I know Greek too well,” he replied significantly.

“He means he knows what’s made you abuse me like this, eh? what, Solent?” And the squire jerked himself into a normal position, straightening out his legs under the table and leaning back with a deep sigh of relief.