"But don't you think," observed the Bibliomaniac, "that to certain minds the book is more or less unsettling?"

"To that I can confidently say no. The certain mind knows no uncertainty," replied the Idiot, calmly.

"Very pretty indeed," said the School-master, coldly. "But what was your opinion of Mrs. Ward's handling of the subject? Do you think she was sufficiently realistic? And if so, and Elsmere weakened under the stress of circ.u.mstances, do you think--or don't you think--the production of such a book harmful, because--being real--it must of necessity be unsettling to some minds?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE CONSPIRATORS]

"I prefer not to express an opinion on that subject," returned the Idiot, "because I never read _Robert Els_--"

"Never read it?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the School-master, a look of triumph in his eyes.

"Why, everybody has read _Elsmere_ that pretends to have read anything,"

a.s.serted the Bibliomaniac.

"Of course," put in the landlady, with a scornful laugh.

"Well, I didn't," said the Idiot, nonchalantly. "The same ground was gone over two years before in Burrows's great story, _Is It, or Is It Not?_ and anybody who ever read Clink's books on the _Non-Existent as Opposed to What Is_, knows where Burrows got his points. Burrows's story was a perfect marvel. I don't know how many editions it went through in England, and when it was translated into French by Madame Tournay, it simply set the French wild."

"Great Scott!" whispered the Bibliomaniac, desperately, "I'm afraid we've been barking up the wrong tree."

"You've read Clink, I suppose?" asked the Idiot, turning to the School-master.

"Y--yes," returned the School-master, blushing deeply.

The Idiot looked surprised, and tried to conceal a smile by sipping his coffee from a spoon.

"And Burrows?"

"No," returned the School-master, humbly. "I never read Burrows."

"Well, you ought to. It's a great book, and it's the one _Robert Elsmere_ is taken from--same ideas all through, I'm told--that's why I didn't read _Elsmere_. Waste of time, you know. But you noticed yourself, I suppose, that Clink's ground is the same as that covered in _Elsmere_?"

"No; I only dipped lightly into Clink," returned the School-master, with some embarra.s.sment.

"But you couldn't help noticing a similarity of ideas?" insisted the Idiot, calmly.

The School-master looked beseechingly at the Bibliomaniac, who would have been glad to fly to his co-conspirator's a.s.sistance had he known how, but never having heard of Clink, or Burrows either, for that matter, he made up his mind that it was best for his reputation for him to stay out of the controversy.

"Very slight similarity, however," said the School-master, in despair.

"Where can I find Clink's books?" put in Mr. Whitechoker, very much interested.

The Idiot conveniently had his mouth full of chicken at the moment, and it was to the School-master who had also read him that they all--the landlady included--looked for an answer.

"Oh, I think," returned that worthy, hesitatingly--"I think you'll find Clink in any of the public libraries."

"What is his full name?" persisted Mr. Whitechoker, taking out a memorandum-book.

"Horace J. Clink," said the Idiot.

"Yes; that's it--Horace J. Clink," echoed the School-master. "Very virile writer and a clear thinker," he added, with some nervousness.

"What, if any, of his books would you specially recommend?" asked the Minister again.

The Idiot had by this time risen from the table, and was leaving the room with the genial gentleman who occasionally imbibed.

The School-master's reply was not audible.

"I say," said the genial gentleman to the Idiot, as they pa.s.sed out into the hall, "they didn't get much the best of you in that matter. But, tell me, who was Clink, anyhow?"

"Never heard of him before," returned the Idiot.

"And Burrows?"

"Same as Clink."

"Know anything about _Elsmere_?" chuckled the genial gentleman.

"Nothing--except that it and 'Pigs in Clover' came out at the same time, and I stuck to the Pigs."

And the genial gentleman who occasionally imbibed was so pleased at the plight of the School-master and of the Bibliomaniac that he invited the Idiot up to his room, where the private stock was kept for just such occasions, and they put in a very pleasant morning together.

IV

The guests were a.s.sembled as usual. The oatmeal course had been eaten in silence. In the Idiot's eye there was a cold glitter of expectancy--a glitter that boded ill for the man who should challenge him to controversial combat--and there seemed also to be, judging from sundry winks pa.s.sed over the table and kicks pa.s.sed under it, an understanding to which he and the genial gentleman who occasionally imbibed were parties.

As the School-master sampled his coffee the genial gentleman who occasionally imbibed broke the silence.

"I missed you at the concert last night, Mr. Idiot," said he.

"Yes," said the Idiot, with a caressing movement of the hand over his upper lip; "I was very sorry, but I couldn't get around last night. I had an engagement with a number of friends at the athletic club. I meant to have dropped you a line in the afternoon telling you about it, but I forgot it until it was too late. Was the concert a success?"

"Very successful indeed. The best one, in fact, we have had this season, which makes me regret all the more deeply your absence," returned the genial gentleman, with a suggestion of a smile playing about his lips.

"Indeed," he added, "it was the finest one I've ever seen."

"The finest one you've what?" queried the School-master, startled at the verb.

"The finest one I've ever seen," replied the genial gentleman. "There were only ten performers, and really, in all my experience as an attendant at concerts, I never saw such a magnificent rendering of Beethoven as we had last night. I wish you could have been there. It was a sight for the G.o.ds."

"I don't believe," said the Idiot, with a slight cough that may have been intended to conceal a laugh--and that may also have been the result of too many cigarettes--"I don't believe it could have been any more interesting than a game of pool I heard at the club."

"It appears to me," said the Bibliomaniac to the School-master, "that the popping sounds we heard late last night in the Idiot's room may have some connection with the present mode of speech these two gentlemen affect."

"Let's hear them out," returned the School-master, "and then we'll take them into camp, as the Idiot would say."