"A Cheops of the Fourth Dynasty," said Mr. Peters fervently.

"I beg your pardon?"

"A Cheops--of the Fourth Dynasty."

Lord Emsworth began to feel like a hunted stag. He could not go
on saying "Ah!" indefinitely; yet what else was there to say to
this curious little beastly sort of a beetle kind of thing?

"Dear me! A Cheops!"

"Of the Fourth Dynasty!"

"Bless my soul! The Fourth Dynasty!"

"What do you think of that--eh?"

Strictly speaking, Lord Emsworth thought nothing of it; and he
was wondering how to veil this opinion in diplomatic words, when
the providence that looks after all good men saved him by causing
a knock at the door to occur. In response to Mr. Peters'
irritated cry a maid entered.

"If you please, sir, Mr. Threepwood wishes to speak with you on
the telephone."

Mr. Peters turned to his guest. "Excuse me for one moment."