“That what?” asked Harry, mystified.
“Pardon me; I should have said fidus, fidus Achates. Get me? Honestly, old man, I don’t know how I’m going to go on living with him. Here it is only the middle of November, and I’m worn to a string. My health is giving way under the strain. If I was only certain about one thing——”
“What’s that?” asked the other, as The Duke paused thoughtfully.
“Whether he’s a skink or a bombyx. If I knew that I’d be able to get on better.”
“What the dickens is a—a skink?”
“A skink? Well, it’s something like a grus, only not nearly so intelligent.”
“You’re a silly chump,” laughed Harry.
“Worse than that, O Discerning One! I’m crazy, absolutely crazy! So would you be if you had to live with Cotton. Look at that table! See the mess! It’s always like that. I, personally, am naturally neat and tidy, Merrow, but Cotton—well, see for yourself! He—he annoys me!”
“Things do look a bit messy,” acknowledged Harry.