"
Bill was puzzled as to why they were talking about the club
steps, but he felt it his duty to say that he did want to know
how many they were.
"Right," said Antony. "I'll find out."
He closed his eyes.
"I'm walking up St James' Street," he said slowly. "Now I've
come to the club and I'm going past the smoking-room
--windows-one-two three four. Now I'm at the steps. I turn in and
begin going up them. One-two-three-four-five-six, then a broad
step; six-seven-eight-nine, another broad step; nine-ten-eleven.
Eleven I'm inside. Good morning, Rogers. Fine day again." With
a little start he opened his eyes and came back again to his
present surroundings. He turned to Bill with a smile. "Eleven,"
he said. "Count them the next time you're there. Eleven and now
I hope I shall forget it again."
Bill was distinctly interested.
"That's rather hot," he said. "Expound."
"Well, I can't explain it, whether it's something in the actual
eye, or something in the brain, or what, but I have got rather an
uncanny habit of recording things unconsciously.
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