"You've heard them?" asked Ransford, who was too vexed to keep
back his curiosity. "You yourself?"

"As you are aware, I am often asked out to tea," replied
Bryce, "and to garden-parties, and tennis-parties, and choice
and cosy functions patronized by curates and associated with
crumpets. I have heard--with these ears. I can even repeat
the sort of thing I have heard. 'That dear, delightful Miss
Bewery--what a charming girl! And that good-looking boy, her
brother--quite a dear! Now I wonder who they really are?
Wards of Dr. Ransford, of course! Really, how very romantic!
--and just a little--eh?--unusual? Such a comparatively young
man to have such a really charming girl as his ward! Can't be
more than forty-five himself, and she's twenty--how very, very
romantic! Really, one would think there ought to be a
chaperon!'"

"Damn!" said Ransford under his breath.

"Just so," agreed Bryce. "But--that's the sort of thing. Do
you want more? I can supply an unlimited quantity in the
piece if you like. But it's all according to sample."

"So--in addition to your other qualities," remarked Ransford,
"you're a gossiper?"

Bryce smiled slowly and shook his head.

"No," he replied. "I'm a listener. A good one, too. But do
you see my point? I say--there's no mystery about me. If