He began wandering round the room and producing plates and knives from unexpected quarters. Presently he stopped and puzzled.
“Can you think of a likely place to find the bread?” he asked.
“Where did you see it last?”
“I don’t know. I have meals at all sorts of odd times and places, so one loses track. Wait a minute, though.”
He disappeared into the bedroom and emerged with a loaf and a saucer with butter on it.
“Breakfasted while I was dressing,” he explained, “or else I had supper in there over night. I don’t know which—but let’s make a start.”
They feasted very royally off bread and hard-boiled eggs and hot potatoes and raspberry jam, followed by a pot of tea. The tea they drank from little Chinese Saki cups without handles.
“I only use these on the especialist occasions,” he announced, adding with a smile, “In fact I have never used them before.”
“Haven’t you many friends?”
“No. Have you?”