“‘Let him in! Let him in! I know him. He has my turtle eggs!’
“And the apparition, slipperless, and clad in anything but an academic gown, came sailing down the stairs.
“The maid fled. The great man, his arms extended, laid hold of me with both hands, and dragging me and my precious pail into his study, with a swift, clean stroke laid open one of the eggs, as the watch in my trembling hands ticked its way to seven—as if nothing unusual were happening to the history of the world.”
“You were in time then?” I said.
“To the tick. There stands my copy of the great book. I am proud of the humble part I had in it.”
III
THE EDGE OF NIGHT