"Had a good night?" asked Devlin.
"If being asleep," I replied, "means having a good night, I have had it. But my head is in a whirl, nevertheless."
"Keep it cool if you can," said Devlin, "for what you have to go through. You will find water and soap inside."
He pointed to the little closet adjoining his room, and there I found all that was necessary for my toilet. I had just finished when Fanny knocked at the door.
"It's all right, Fanny," I cried. "You can get breakfast ready."
"And don't forget," added Devlin, "the extra rasher for me. How is dear Lemon?"
That she did not reply and was heard beating a hasty retreat caused a broad grin to spread over Devlin's face.
"I have provided," he said, "for that worthy creature something of an entertaining, not to say enthralling, nature, which she can dilate upon to the last hour of her life. And yet she is not grateful."
We went down to breakfast, and there I was afforded an opportunity of verifying the subtle likeness in Devlin's face to the portrait of Lemon on the wall, the evil-looking bird in its glass case, and the stone figure, half monster, half man, on the mantelshelf.
"There is a likeness," said Devlin pleasantly, "between my works and me, and if you will attribute me with anything human, you can attribute it to a common human failing. It springs from the vanity and the weakness of man that he can evolve only that which is within himself. Nowhere is that vanity and weakness more conspicuous than in Genesis, in the very first chapter, my dear sir, where man himself has had the audacity to write that 'God created man in His own image.' My dear Mrs. Lemon, you have excelled yourself this morning. This rasher is perfect, and your cooking of these eggs to the infinitesimal part of a second is a marvel of art."