"Good boy. And now we'll have something to eat. You've got it clear?
The time is all important."

Mark scanned his notebook in which he had made voluminous entries.
Then he nodded and shut it.

Suddenly Mr. Ganns laughed. The other's book reminded him of an
incident.

"A funny little thing happened yesterday afternoon that I forgot,"
he said. "I'd turned in, leaving my notebook by my head, when there
came a visitor to my room. I was asleep all right, but my heaviest
sleep won't hold through the noise of a fly on the windowpane; and
lying with my face to the door I heard a tiny sound and lifted one
eyelid. The door opened and Signor Doria put his nose in. I'd pulled
the blind, but there was plenty of light and he spotted my
vade-mecum lying on the bed table a couple of feet from my head.
Over he came as quiet as a spider, and I let him get within a yard.
Then I yawned and shifted. He was gone like a mosquito, and half an
hour later I heard him again. But I got up and he didn't do more
than listen outside. He wanted that book bad--you can guess how
bad."

For two days Mr. Ganns declared that he must rest; and then there
came an evening when he privately invited Doria to take a walk.

"There's a few things I'd like to put to you," he said. "You needn't
let on to anybody else about it and we won't start together. You
know my favourite stroll up the hill. Meet me at the corner--say
seven o'clock."