He had a vast experience of books and a considerable experience of the more dilettante fashionable salons.

But neither branch of knowledge had accustomed him to the spectacle of two grey-haired middle-class gentlemen in modern costume throwing themselves about like acrobats as a substitute for an after-dinner nap.
The professor continued his antics with perfect placidity, but Grant stopped abruptly.

The doctor had reappeared on the scene, and his shiny black eyes, under his shiny black hat, moved restlessly from one of them to the other.
"Dr Colman," said Basil, turning to him, "will you entertain Professor Chadd again for a little while?
I am sure that he needs you.

Mr Bingham, might I have the pleasure of a few moments' private conversation?
My name is Grant." Mr Bingham, of the British Museum, bowed in a manner that was respectful but a trifle bewildered.
"Miss Chadd will excuse me," continued Basil easily, "if I know my way about the house." And he led the dazed librarian rapidly through the back door into the parlour.
"Mr Bingham," said Basil, setting a chair for him, "I imagine that Miss Chadd has told you of this distressing occurrence." "She has, Mr Grant," said Bingham, looking at the table with a sort of compassionate nervousness.

"I am more pained than I can say by this dreadful calamity.