'Not the least. I am incapable of holiday, if the opportunity
were offered. Do something I must, or I shall fret myself into
imbecility.'

'Very well. What is it to be?'

'I shall try to manufacture two volumes. They needn't run to more
than about two hundred and seventy pages, and those well spaced
out.'

'This is refreshing. This is practical. But look now: let it be
something rather sensational. Couldn't we invent a good title--
something to catch eye and ear? The title would suggest the
story, you know.'

Reardon laughed contemptuously, but the scorn was directed rather
against himself than Milvain.

'Let's try,' he muttered.

Both appeared to exercise their minds on the problem for a few
minutes. Then Jasper slapped his knee.

'How would this do: "The Weird Sisters"? Devilish good, eh?
Suggests all sorts of things, both to the vulgar and the
educated. Nothing brutally clap-trap about it, you know.'

'But--what does it suggest to you?'

'Oh, witch-like, mysterious girls or women. Think it over.'