“No, you mayn’t,” replied Jones, “it’s a private affair affecting the honour of another person.”
“Quite so,” said Simms, “but just one more question. Did you hear a voice telling you to—er—eat this paper?”
“Yes.”
“What sort of voice was it?”
“It was the sort of voice that belongs to common-sense.”
“Ha, ha,” laughed Cavendish. “Good, very good,—but there is just something I want to ask. How was it, Mr.—er—Jones, that you turned into your present form, exchanged your position as it were with the Earl of Rochester?”
“O Lord,” said Jones. Then to the Duke of Melford, “Tell them.”
“Well,” said the Duke. “Mr. Jones was sitting in the lounge of an hotel when a gentleman entered whom he knew but could not recognize.”
“Couldn’t place his name,” cut in Jones.
“Precisely. The gentleman said ‘turn round and look in that mirror’—”