"Go on, John. What is it?"
"It's irregular, Suffragan, but your Honor is above the Law; and, before beginning a long story—mind you, a most important story it is—"
"What is it about? Who's in it?"
"Lots of the People are in it. They don't count. He's in it now—come!"
"He?"
John Lax had pointed over his shoulder so clearly in the direction of the Arch Physician's residence that I could not but understand. Yet I pretended.
"He, John? Who is he?"
"The Arch Physician is in it. There! Now, Suffragan, bring out that bottle and a glass, and I can then tell you the story, without fear of ill consequences to my throat that was once delicate."
I gave him the bottle and a glass, and, after drinking a tumblerful of whiskey (forbidden to the People) he began.
Certain reasons, he said, had made him suspicious as to what went on at night in the Museum during the last few weeks. The lights were up until late at night. Once he tried the doors, and found that they were locked. He heard the playing of music within, and the sound of many voices.