"Yes. It is an everlasting nuisance to be the confidant of a celebrity."
"I haven't much of a fancy for strong-minded women myself," Ned said soothingly, "but according to Mrs. Ellerton's account, this one must be a charmer."
"They're all alike," growled John. Then, recovering himself: "I never knew a literary fiend who wasn't more or less of a crank."
After that we got out of the breakers, and sailed away into a long talk, quite in Pow-wow style. Somewhere about midnight Ned departed, and John was about to go too, when I caught sight of a narrow strip of paper which the draught from the open door had sent fluttering across the carpet.
"The clue!" I cried, giving chase, and, as I picked it up, my eye fell upon a couple of lines written in the handwriting we had so much admired.
"Oh, I say, John! That's pretty rough on you!"
