It seemed indeed to be a spot impressive enough to meet even Billy's captious requirements, but we had underrated the demands of his artist's conscience.

Solon called to him.
"Won't this do, Billy ?" Billy stopped dramatically, turned back upon us, and then exploded:-- "Fools! Would you ruin all?
You must not be seen addressing me.

Now I must disguise myself." Turning stealthily from us, he swiftly adjusted a beard that swept its sable flow down his youthful chest.

Then he addressed us again, still in tense, hoarse accents.
"Are you armed ?" "To the teeth!" answered Solon, with deadly grimness, and with a presence of mind which I envied.
"Then follow me, but at a distance!" Meekly we obeyed.

While our hero stalked ahead, stroking his luxuriant whiskers ever and anon, we pursued him at an interval so great that not the most alert citizen of Little Arcady could have suspected this sinister undercurrent to his simple life.
It is a long walk to the cemetery, but we reached it to find Billy seated on the steps that lead over the fence, still shielded by his hairy envelope.
"A tough case!" he whispered as we sat by him.