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them are characters used in other books, chiefly the works of another great writer called Tracy. There is a cowboy in Room 13 and Mr. McCool, a hero of old Ireland, is on the floor above. The cellar is full of leprechauns.
    What are they going to all do? asked Brinsley.
    Nature of his tone: Without intent, tired, formal.
    Trellis, I answered steadily, is writing a book on sin and the wages attaching thereto. He is a philosopher and a moralist. He is appalled by the spate of sexual and other crimes recorded in recent times in the newspapers - particularly in those published on Saturday night.
    Nobody will read the like of that, said Brinsley.
    Yes they will, I answered. Trellis wants this salutary book to be read by all. He realizes that purely a moralizing tract would not reach the public. Therefore he is putting plenty of smut into his book. There will be no less than seven indecent assaults on young girls and any amount of bad language. There will be whisky and porter for further orders.
    I thought there was to be no boozing, Brinsley said.
    No unauthorized boozing, I answered. Trellis has absolute control over his minions but this control is abandoned when he falls asleep. Consequently he must make sure that they are all in bed before he locks up and goes to bed himself. Now do you understand me?
    You needn't shout, said Brinsley.
    His book is so bad that there will be no hero, nothing but villains. The central villain will be a man of unexampled depravity, so bad that he must be created ab ovo et initio . A small dark man called Furriskey.
    I paused to examine my story, allowing a small laugh as a just tribute. Then whipping typescript from a pocket, I read an extract quickly for his further entertainment.
    Extract From Manuscript where Trellis is explaining to an unnamed listener the character of his projected labour: ...It appeared to him that a great and a daring book - a green book - was the crying need of the hour - a book that would show the terrible cancer of sin in its true light and act as a clarion-call to torn humanity. Continuing, he said that all children were born clean and innocent. (It was not by chance that he avoided the doctrine of original sin and the theological profundities which its consideration would entail.) They grew up to be polluted by their foul environment and transformed - was not the word a feeble one! - into bawds and criminals and harpies. Evil, it seemed to him, was the most contagious of all known diseases. Put a thief among honest men and they will eventually relieve him of his watch. In his book he would present two examples of humanity - a man of great depravity and a woman of unprecedented virtue. They meet. The woman is corrupted, eventually ravished and done to death in a back lane. Presented in its own milieu , in the timeless conflict of grime and beauty, gold and black, sin and grace, the tale would be a moving and a salutary one. Mens sana in corpore sano . What a keen discernment had the old philosopher! How well he knew that the beetle was of the dunghill, the butterfly of the flower! Conclusion of extract.
    Looking up in triumph, I found Brinsley standing very straight and staring at the floor, his neck bent. A newspaper, soiled and damp, was on the floor at his feet and his eyes strained narrowly at the print.
    Gob I see that horse of Peacock's is going to-day, he said.
    I folded my manuscript without a word and replaced it in my clothing.
    Eight stone four, he said.
    Listen here, he continued looking up, we'd be bloody fools if we didn't have something on this.
    He stooped and peeled the paper from the floor, reading it intently.
    What horse is this? I asked.
    What horse? Grandchild. Peacock's horse.
    Here I uttered an exclamation.
    Nature of exclamation: Inarticulate, of surprise, recollection.
    Wait till I show you something, I said groping in my pocket. Wait till you read this. I got this yesterday. I am in the hands of a man from Newmarket.
    I handed him a