"So I was. Well it's just a matter of--ale or claret? Oh, claret, I
know. You despise the good old British John Barleycorn."

"He that drinks beer thinks beer," retorted Thorndyke. "But you were
saying that it is just a matter of--?"

"A matter of a perverse testator and an ill-drawn will. A peculiarly
irritating case, too, because the defective will replaces a perfectly
sound one, and the intentions of the testator were--er--were--excellent
ale, this. A little heady, perhaps, but sound. Better than your sour
French wine, Thorndyke--were--er--were quite obvious. What he evidently
desired was--mustard? Better have some mustard. No? Well, well! Even a
Frenchman would take mustard. You can have no appreciation of flavour,
Thorndyke, if you take your victuals in that crude, unseasoned state.
And, talking of flavour, do you suppose that there is really any
difference between that of a lark and that of a sparrow?"

Thorndyke smiled grimly. "I should suppose," said he, "that they were
indistinguishable; but the question could easily be put to the test of
experiment."

"That is true," agreed Marchmont, "and it would really be worth trying,
for, as you say, sparrows are more easily obtainable than larks. But,
about this will. I was saying--er--now, what was I saying?"

"I understood you to say," replied Thorndyke, "that the intentions of
the testator were in some way connected with mustard. Isn't that so,
Jervis?"