Attempts to destroy them have been made. Last night I left
them in a breeding-cage on my desk. Has anybody been in there?"
"I don't know," I said. "What has happened?"
"I found an ichneumon fly in the cage yesterday!" he shouted; "and this
morning the eggs have either shrunk to half their size or else the eggs
of another species have been secretly substituted for them and the Silver
Moon eggs stolen! Has _he_ been in there?"
"Who?" I asked, pretending to misunderstand.
"_He!_" demanded Quint fiercely. "If he has I'll kill him some day."
_He_ meant his one-time friend, Dr. Boomly. Alas!
"For heaven's sake, why are you two perpetually squabbling?" I asked
wearily. "You used to be inseparable friends. Why can't you make up?"
"Because I've come to know him. That's why! I have unmasked this--this
Borgia--this Machiavelli--this monster of duplicity! Matters are
approaching a point where something has got to be done short of murder.
I've stood all his envy and jealousy and cheap imputations and hints and
contemptible innuendoes that I'm going to--"
He stopped short, glaring at the doorway, which had suddenly been
darkened by the vast bulk of Professor Boomly--a figure largely abdominal
but majestic--like the massive butt end of an elephant.
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