He smoked stolidly whilst I spoke, frowning the while; then:
“Old chap,” he said, “I begin to have a sort of glimmering of intelligence. I believe I am threatened with an idea! But it’s such an utterly fantastic hybrid that I dare not name it—yet.”
He asked me several questions respecting what I had seen, and my replies appeared to confirm whatever suspicion was gathering in his mind. We saw little enough sport, but came in later than anyone.
During dinner there was an odd incident. Lorian said:
“Colonel, d’you mind my taking a picture of the Riddle?”
“Eh!” said the Colonel. “What for? Your father made a drawing of it.”
“Yes, I know,” replied Lorian. “I mean a photograph.”
“Well,” mused the Colonel, “I don’t know that there can be much objection, since it has been copied once. But have you got a camera here?”
“Ah—no,” said my friend thoughtfully, “I haven’t. Can anybody lend me one?”