"Loonies?" he mumbled, sleeply. "Rather! My uncle Edgar thought he was twins."
"Twins, eh?"
"Yes. Silly idea! I mean, you'd have thought one of my uncle Edgar would have been enough for any man."
"How did the thing start?" asked Archie.
"Start? Well, the first thing we noticed was when he began wanting two of everything. Had to set two places for him at dinner and so on. Always wanted two seats at the theatre. Ran into money, I can tell you."
"He didn't behave rummily up till then? I mean to say, wasn't sort of jumpy and all that?"
"Not that I remember. Why?"
Archie's tone became grave.
"Well, I'll tell you, old man, though I don't want it to go any farther, that I'm a bit worried about my jolly old father-in-law. I believe he's about to go in off the deep-end. I think he's cracking under the strain. Dashed weird his behaviour has been the last few days."
"Such as?" murmured Mr. van Tuyl.
"Well, the other morning I happened to be in his suite—incidentally he wouldn't go above ten dollars, and I wanted twenty-five—and he suddenly picked up a whacking big paper-weight and bunged it for all he was worth."
"At you?"
"Not at me. That was the rummy part of it. At a mosquito on the wall, he said. Well, I mean to say, do chappies bung paper-weights at mosquitoes? I mean, is it done?"
"Smash anything?"
"Curiously enough, no. But he only just missed a
