Argosy (UK), January 1955 — page 58: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

56 WALTER DE LA MARE it, realized it—underneath. Hadn’t we? When one is so old... well, one can’t go on—indefinitely.” The words ceased. He was gazing at the back of the picture... “What a lucky thing,” he added, smiling serenely up into her face, ‘“‘ that we knew all along things weren’t quite right.” * * » COVER CHARGE! When we were all assembled, George Moore said, with an air of diffidence, “‘ Gentlemen, dinner tonight will be at best an experiment. I have engaged a new cook. She was well recom- ~ mended. We shall soon see what her capabilities are.” He sat at the head of an oval table with his back to the garden and the street. In the quiet cul-de-sac nothing stirred; neither — vehicles nor foot passengers entered Ely Place after sundown. The soup passed scrutiny. Moore was acting as a gourmet of the most exquisite taste before his guests. He had been in France and we were paying for it. “It is impossible to convince a cook that she should heat the tureen before pouring in the soup. In these old houses the stairs to the kitchen are enough to cool the soup. ‘The real test of a cook, however, is the omelette. Now we shall see.” If his attitudinizing had not been so characteristic it would have been boring. But Moore managed to make affectation an effec- tive part of himself. He lifted the lid of the chafing-dish. He replaced it with an exclamation. He went hurriedly into his hall, opened the hall door, and blew a police whistle. He returned with a young constable whose helmet was held respectfully under his arm. Moore again raised the lid of the dish and, pointing to the omelette, said, “ Look at that! ’’ While the lid was coming off, the constable’s helmet was being put on. ‘The constable gazed at the omelette, looked at us all, and then at the omelette. Moore said, ‘‘ I want you to arrest the perpetrator of that atrocity.” ‘The young policeman stood bewildered... I wondered if Moore had not gone too far by bringing in the police. It might be a cause célébre for a week if it got into the newspaper... The constable at last spoke: ““ On what charge, sir?” For a moment Moore was nonplussed. ‘Then he rallied and, lifting the lid, pointed with it. ‘“ ‘That is no omelette. Go down and arrest her for obtaining money under false pretences.”’ OLIVER St. JOHN GoGaRTY, It Isn’t This Time of Year at All! comicloooks.comnn