"Yes, sir!" he replied. "There is a rain storm, so I ventured to bring
your mackintosh."
"Very thoughtful," the Professor murmured approvingly. "I have a
weakness," he went on, turning to his hostess, "for always walking home
after an evening like this. In the daytime I am content to ride. At night
I have the fancy always to walk."
"We don't walk half enough." Mrs. Rheinholdt sighed, glancing down at her
somewhat portly figure. "Dixon," she added, turning to the footman who had
admitted Craig, "take Professor Ashleigh's servant into the kitchen and
see that he has something before he leaves for home. Now, Professor, if
you will come this way."
They reached a little room in the far corner of the house. Mrs. Rheinholdt
apologised as she switched on the electric lights.
"It is a queer little place to bring you to," she said, "but my husband
used to spend many hours here, and he would never allow anything to be
moved. You see, the specimens are in these cases."
The Professor nodded. His general attitude towards the forthcoming
exhibition was merely one of politeness. As the first case was opened,
however, his manner completely changed. Without taking the slightest
further notice of his hostess, he adjusted a pair of horn-rimmed
spectacles and commenced to mumble eagerly to himself. Mrs. Rheinholdt,
who did not understand a word, strolled around the apartment, yawned, and
finally interrupted a little stream of eulogies, not a word of which she
understood, concerning a green beetle with yellow spots.
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