His guests walked about looking at things with idle amusement, for he seldom took visitors here. To Charter it presented a side of Astry's character that seemed trivial. John was not given to imagination, and he found the room stuffy and redolent of chemicals. He would have preferred books or something wholesome and manly; he had no taste for dipping into strange creeds and confusing the gods of Shintoism. John found the atmosphere irritating and he stood looking at a picture of St. Jerome on a broken tablet while the others were grouped about Astry's dried toads. Dr. Macclesfield joined him. They were apart from the rest.
"John," said the doctor, "you and I have got to gag Sidney Billop."
John looked around at the old man inquiringly.
"He's telling tales," said the doctor, in a low voice; "he's picked up some servants' tattle, a nasty bit of gossip, but it involves our friends and we've got to stop him."
"I'd thrash him with pleasure," said John.
Macclesfield laughed. "And spread it? Sidney would run screaming to his mother; he's not altogether responsible. The yellow journals would blaze; we've got to be diplomatic."
"I'm not diplomatic," said John, and he meant it; there was deadly anger in his eyes.
"No, you're martial. I reckon I shouldn't have told you. I'll have to scare Sidney myself; I used to when he was a child by telling him about the bogie man. He's not very different now. Lord, John, you might as well thrash a jellyfish; he's all flabby."
"Thrashing would substantiate him," said John grimly.
The doctor laughed again. "He'd be all of a splutter. There's trouble brewing; I think Astry's seen the paper."