on my left by the side of the bed. I opened my off eye. I lay
in a fair, grey-papered chamber, darkened, for the green shutters
were drawn close about the open windows. Some of their slides
were ajar, letting the bright sunshine slant into the room.

"There was once," I said, "a fool." A smothered exclamation
close to my left ear. "A fool, who did everything wrong. He
lost his way, his heart, his head, and, last of all, his
b~balance. In that order. Yet he was proud. But then he was
only a fool."

"But he was- English," she murmured.

"Yes,"I said.

"And there was another fool," said Silvia. "A much bigger one,
really, because, although she never lost her way or her head or
her balance, she lost something much more precious. She lost her
temper."

"But not her voice," said I. "And the fools went together to
Scotland Yard, and there they found the way and the head and the
balance and the temper. But not the heart, Silvia."

"Plural," said Silvia, softly. I opened my near eye and turned
my head. The first thing I saw was a rosy arm, lying on the edge
of my pillow. Within reach.

"I say," I whispered. "Is the bell in this room all right?"