Most of it was all right. But that disappearance . . . happened to be convincing. Tell us, it's a tale of cock and bull.'
He stood up without heeding me, took the middle of the hearthrug, and faced me. For a moment he regarded his feet thoughtfully, and then for all the rest of the time his eyes were on the opposite wall, with an intent expression. He raised his two hands slowly to the level of his eyes and so began. . . .
Now, Sanderson is a Freemason, a member of the lodge of the Four Kings, which devotes itself so ably to the study and elucidation of all the mysteries of Masonry past and present, and among the students of this lodge Sanderson is by no means the least. He followed Clayton's motions with a singular interest in his reddish eye. 'That's not bad,' he said, when it was done. 'You really do, you know, put things together, Clayton, in a most amazing fashion. But there's one little detail out.'
'I know,' said Clayton. 'I believe I could tell you which.'
'Well?'
'This,' said Clayton, and did a queer little twist and writhing and thrust of the hands.
'Yes.'
'That, you know, was what he couldn't get right,' said Clayton. 'But how do you?'
'Most of this business, and particularly how you invented it, I don't understand at all,' said Sanderson, 'but just that phase—do.' He reflected. 'These happen to be a series of gestures—connected with a certain branch of esoteric Masonry Probably you know. Or elseHow?' He reflected still further. 'I do not see I can do any harm in telling you just the proper twist. After all, if you know, you know; if you don't, you don't.'
