“And you say that Chloe alone proved immune to the spell?” queried Ningauble thoughtfully, tossing a potsherd to the far side of the pile. “Now that brings to my mind—” “The exceedingly peculiar remark at the end of Diotima’s fourth epistle to Socrates?” interrupted the Mouser brightly. “Am I not right, Father?” “You are not,” replied Ningauble coldly. “As I was about to observe, when this tick of the intellect sought to burrow the skin of my mind, there must be something that throws a protective influence around Chloe. Do you know of any god or demon in whose special favor she stands, or any
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