"Bedelle!"
"Yes, sir."
The stench began to swell with the hurried approach.
"Stop there," said the Doctor hastily, and, having had his imagination sharpened by frequent contact with the genus boy, he added with sudden inspiration: "Go round to my study window. I will speak to you from inside."
A moment later Skippy's white face appeared, framed against the night.
"Bedelle, Mr. Hopkins reports that you were dismissed from first recital this morning, for being in a condition which unfitted you for association with your fellow beings. Is that true?"
"Please, sir, it was the citronella."
"Mr. Tapping reports that the stench arising from your room has made the house untenantable. Is that true?"
"Please, sir, that was asafœtida and—"
"And butyl mercaptan; I'm quite aware of that," said the Doctor quickly, to continue the tradition of omniscience.