The Professor succumbed to a fresh access, from the vortex of which
he managed to fling out--"But that's the very core of the joke!"

Harviss looked at him resignedly. "What is?"

"Why, your not seeing--your not understanding--"

"Not understanding _what?"_

"Why, what the book is meant to be." His laughter subsided again and
he sat gazing thoughtfully at the publisher. "Unless it means," he
wound up, "that I've over-shot the mark."

"If I am the mark, you certainly have," said Harviss, with a glance
at the clock.

The Professor caught the glance and interpreted it. "The book is a
skit," he said, rising.

The other stared. "A skit? It's not serious, you mean?"

"Not to me--but it seems you've taken it so."

"You never told me--" began the publisher in a ruffled tone.

"No, I never told you," said the Professor.

Harviss sat staring at the manuscript between them. "I don't pretend
to be up in such recondite forms of humour," he said, still stiffly.