"Well now," I went on, full of the chase, "you will naturally ask me who
are you to go to?" I scratched my nose. "You know the Fusionary Office,
as we call it? It is really, of course, a part of the Stannaries. But
the Chief Permanent Secretary likes to have it called the Fusionary
Office; it's his vanity."

"Yes," said he eagerly, "yes, go on!"

"They always have the same hours," I said, "four to eleven."

"Four to _what_?" he asked, looking up.

"To eleven," I repeated sharply; "but you'd much better call round about
three."

He looked bewildered.

"Don't interrupt," I said, seeing him open his lips, "or I shall lose
the thread. It's rather complicated. You call at three by the little
door in Whitehall on the Embankment side towards the Horse Guards
looking south, and _don't_ ring the bell."

"Why not?" he asked. I thought for the moment he might begin to cry.

"Oh, well," I said testily, "you mustn't ask those questions. All these
institutions are very old institutions with habits and prejudices of
their own. You mustn't ring the bell, that's all; they don't like it;
you must just wait until they open; and then, if you take _my_