THE MAN WHO WAS THURSDAY.
"My reason is quite simple," said Syme. "I attack him rashly because I am afraid of him."
They followed Syme up the dark stair in silence, and they all came out simultaneously into the broad sunlight of the morning and the broad sunlight of Sunday's smile.
"Delightful!" he said. "So pleased to see you all. What an exquisite day it is. Is the Czar dead?"
The Secretary, who happened to be foremost, drew himself together for a dignified outburst.
"No, sir," he said sternly "there has been no massacre. I bring you news of no such disgusting spectacles."
"Disgusting spectacles?" repeated the President, with a bright, inquiring smile. "You mean Dr. Bull's spectacles?"
The Secretary choked for a moment, and the President went on with a sort of smooth appeal—
"Of course, we all have our opinions and even our eyes, but really to call them disgusting before the man himself——"
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