The Equinox (Volume I, Number VII)

THE EQUINOX always ending up with kisses in the old armchair, and a dainty dinner. This had continued for nearly three years with no inter- ruption but once when the Professor’s wife, from whom he had long been separated, succeeded in getting into the house on some pretence, and creating a very considerable uproar before the Professor and his butler could master her rage. She was a big muscular woman from Australia with the body of a tiger and the temper of a snake. She would have made a winning fight of it but for Zircon’s adroit sortie to the laboratory and timely return with a bottle of chloroform. The Professor dined alone that night; at the very outset of the battle Muriel had fled in tears to the little room in VValham Green where she lived under the alleged guardian- ship of a most paunchy ex—dresser. No other incident disturbed the ripples of their harmless, petty liaison. Even the earlier rumours of the brother in Alaska had died down to folk-lore The Professor had never got away from his work in time to hear her play the fiddle ; anyhow, he hated music. Nor had Muriel ever stayed too late to alarm her landlady, who thought she played at supper as well as at tea. The illness of the Secretary for War alarmed only the German Ambassador, who could not be positive that in case of his death an accident might not happen and a capable person be appointed to the post. The annoyance of his death—telephoned to the Office at three o’clock one afternoon—was concentrated on Professor Zircon, torn away from a compound with half the Greek Alphabet dotted about its name by a white-haired little Colonel who 92