him intently.

"Hm," murmured Peter calmly.

The green door closed--and then opened again--a bare half inch this
time.

"Peek-a-boo," murmured Peter.

The door remained stationary and then he became aware of a series of
tense intermittent whispers.

"One guy."

"What's he doin'?"

"He's sittin' lookin'."

"He better beat it off. We gotta get another li'l' bottle."

Peter listened while the words filtered into his consciousness.

"Now this," he thought, "is most remarkable."

He was excited. He was jubilant. He felt that he had stumbled upon a
mystery. Affecting an elaborate carelessness he arose and waited
around the table--then, turning quickly, pulled open the green door,
precipitating Private Rose into the room.

Peter bowed.