almost the same moment. Why? Last night, be fore you came, Professor Bolton, Mr. Bland gave me as his reason for being here the story of Ara bella, which I afterward appropriated as a joke and gave as my own reason. I related to Mr., Bland the fiction about the artist and the besieg ing novelists. We swapped stories when you came—it was our merry little method of doubting each other's word. Perhaps it was bad taste. At any rate, looking at it in the morning light, I am inclined to return Mr. Bland's Arabella, and no questions asked. He is again the lovelorn haber dasher. I am inclined to believe, implicitly, your story. That is my proposition. No doubts of one another. We are here for whatever reasons we say we are."
The professor nodded gravely.
"Last night," went on Mr. Magee, "there was some talk between Mr. Bland and myself about one of us leaving the inn. Mr. Bland demanded it. I trust he sees the matter differently this morn ing. I for one should be sorry to see him go."
"I've changed my mind," said Mr. Bland. The look on his thin face was not a pleasant one.
