"I'll
trouble you for the sugar, Mr. Morton."
Laurie was determined not to begin the subject again. He felt that he
was being patronized and lectured, and did not like it. And once again
the suspicion crossed his mind that this was an arranged meeting. It
was so very neat--two days before the _seance_--the entry of
Morton--his own seat occupied. Yet he did not feel quite courageous
enough to challenge either of them. He ate his cheese deliberately and
waited, listening to the talk between the two on quite irrelevant
subjects, and presently determined on a bit of bravado.
"May I look at the _Daily Mirror_, Mr. Cathcart?" he asked.
"There is no doubt of his guilt," the old man said, as he handed the
paper across (the two were deep in a law case now). "I said so to
Markham a dozen times--" and so on.
But there was no more word of spiritualism. Laurie propped the paper
before him as he finished his cheese, and waited for coffee, and read
with unseeing eyes. He was resenting as hard as he could the
abruptness of the opening and closing of the subject, and the complete
disregard now shown to him. He drank his coffee, still leisurely, and
lit a cigarette; and still the two talked.
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