*    *    *    *    *

At five minutes to eleven on the morning named he was at the station, a false beard
and spectacles shielding his identity from the public eye. If you had asked him he
would have said that he was a Scotch business man. As a matter a fact, he looked
far more like a motor-car coming through a haystack.

*    *    *    *    *

He liked catching trains; he liked invading strange hotels; above all,
he reveled in the artistic pleasure of watching unsuspecting fellow-men
as if they were so many ants.

*    *    *    *    *

"You look at least a hundred years old," he said. "What are you
made ups as? A piece of Gorgonzola?"

*    *    *    *    *

Musical comedy is the Irish stew of drama. Anything may be put into it,
with the certainty that it will improve the general effect.

*    *    *    *    *

The plot of 'Girl From Brighton' had then reached a critical stage. The situation
was as follows: The hero, having been disinherited by his wealthy and titled father
for falling in love with the heroine, a poor shop-girl, has disguised himself (by
wearing a different coloured necktie) and has come in pursuit of her to a well-known
seaside resort, where, having disguised herself by changing her dress, she is serving
as a waitress in the Rotunda, on the Esplanade. The family butler, disguised as a
Bath-chair man, has followed the hero, and the wealthy and titled father, disguised
as an Italian opera-singer, has come to the place for a reason which, though extremely
sound, for the moment eludes the memory. Anyhow, he is there, and they all meet
on the Esplanade. Each recognizes the other, but thinks he himself is unrecognized.


*    *    *    *    *

"As a sleuth you are poor. You couldn't detect a bass-drum in a telephone-booth."

*    *    *    *    *