green-baize table near at hand were several copies of the Times, the current Punch, an inkpot of solid brass, and a paper-weight of lead. There are other dreams! It seemed impossible. The breathing of an eminent person in a chair in the far corner became very distinct in that interval. It was heavy and resolute like the sound of a stone-mason's saw. It insisted upon itself as the touchstone of reality. It seemed to say that at the first whisper of a thing so utterly improbable as a mermaid it would snort and choke.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," said Melville.
"Well, tell me—anyhow."
My cousin looked at an empty chair beside him. It was evidently stuffed with the very best horsehair that money could procure, stuffed with infinite skill and an almost religious care. It preached in the open invitation of its expanded arms that man does not live by bread alone—inasmuch as afterwards he needs a nap. An utterly dreamless chair!
Mermaids?
He felt that he was after all quite possibly the victim of a foolish delusion, hypnotised by Mrs. Bunting's beliefs. Was there not some more plausible interpretation, some phrase that would lie out bridge-ways from the plausible to the truth?
"It's no good," he groaned at last.
Chatteris had been watching him furtively.
"Oh, I don't care a hang," he said, and shied his second cigarette into the massively decorated fireplace. "It's no affair of mine."
421
