"By the way, what did you come down for?"
"I was hungry," said Jimmy. "I rather fancied a dry biscuit."
"There are some biscuits in a tin by your bed," said Rupert Bateman.
He was staring at Jimmy very intently through his horn-rimmed spectacles.
"Ah! That's where the staff work has gone wrong, old boy. There's a tin there with 'Biscuits for Starving Visitors' on it. But when the starving visitor opened it—nothing inside. So I just toddled down to the dining-room."
And with a sweet, ingenuous smile, Jimmy produced from his dressing-gown pocket a handful of biscuits.
There was a moment's pause.
"And now I think I'll toddle back to bed," said Jimmy. "Night-night, Pongo."
With an affectation of nonchalance, he mounted the staircase. Rupert Bateman followed him. At the doorway of his room, Jimmy paused as if to say good-night once more.
"It's an extraordinary thing about these biscuits," said Mr. Bateman. "Do you mind if I just—"