Somebody was making a stir in the armoury, whence issued an occasional scrabbling sound. Lib poked her head cautiously around the doorpost.
“Why, Doctor, what would you seem to be doing this elegant afternoon?”
Doctor Aire was standing with a cutlass in one hand and a claymore in the other. He lifted his gaze from the floor in surprise and gave an affable welcome.
“Oh, hello. I had no idea anyone else was indoors.”
“We’ve been giving Noah the once over,” said Lib. “What’s the idea of all the weapons?”
“Well, you see that early battle-axe lying so well protected out there, if it was chosen for the commission of crime, has one or two peculiar things about it. It amused me to find whether—but no, you’d better guess for yourself. I understand that the subject is taboo just now, and a very good thing.”
Lib stamped with animation. “That’s not a bit nice. This is such a dull afternoon, and now you won’t even tell us your secrets.”
“Well, there’s one,” smiled the Doctor with a sort of saturnine indulgence. “Feel the weight of these.” He handed over to her the pair of weapons. “Take a look over the lot.” He made a sweeping motion to indicate the walls crowded with arms. “Then think of the axe that lies out there inclosed by chicken-wire. Then draw your own conclusions.”
Lib poised the cutlas and claymore and returned them. “Doctor, you’re a whiz. Any more funny little wrinkles?”
“Take your time,” said the doctor. “Examine them all.”