Mr. Nape went home deep in thought.
The adoring little maid of all work, who met him at the door ventured to report.
"I've done up the laboratory, sir; them bloodstains have come from the butcher's, and the plumber's fixed up the microscope all right."
Mr. Nape stared at her vacantly.
"Remove the rubbish," he said shortly.
Emma gasped.
"Beg pardon, sir?" she stammered.
"The rubbish!" cried Roderick impatiently stamping his foot, "microscope and bloodstains and human hair—take them away."
A thought struck him.
"Run down to the stationers and get that book How to Correct Printers' Proofs—it's sixpence."