I persuaded her to go for her walk as soon as lunch was over. I told her Dr. Renton never came, as she herself knew, much before half-past three, and that I felt unusually well.
And as soon as ever I heard the click of the gate and knew she had gone I rang the tortoise—the bell which always lives on the other pillow—for Amelia.
She appeared, very dirty.
"Why, you're not dressed," I said.
"Did you ring to tell me that, mum? Because I knewed it."
Her attitude was not that of impertinence, but of inquiry.
"Oh, no," I replied quickly. "I want you to bring me up one of the volumes of the encyclopædia. I don't know the number, but it will have SPI on the back."
I spoke nervously, for I felt guilty. I was about to embark upon an act of deception. Would Amelia detect me? But, for a wonder, she left the room without a comment.
In a minute she was back.
"There is no volume with SPI on it," she announced. "There is one with SIB and SZO on it, mum."