Cathcart with
meditative geniality. "I'd like to blow up the stinking hole."
Mr. Morton chuckled audibly.
"You're the youngest man of your years I've ever come across," he
said. "No wonder you believe all that stuff. When are you going to
grow up, Cathcart?"
The old man paid no attention at all.
"Well--that plot's over," he said again. "Now for Miss Deronnais. But
we can't stop this Sunday affair; that's certain. Did he tell you
anything about it? Materialization? Automatic--"
"Lord, I don't know all that jargon...."
"My dear Morton, for a lawyer, you're the worst witness I've
ever--Well, I'm off. No more to be done today."
* * * * *
The other sat on a few minutes over his pipe.
It seemed to him quite amazing that a sensible man like Cathcart could
take such rubbish seriously. In every other department of life the
solicitor was an eminently shrewd and sane man, with, moreover, a
youthful kind of brisk humor that is perhaps the surest symptom of
sanity that it is possible to have.
He had seen him in court for years past under every sort of
circumstance, and if it had been required of him to select a character
with which superstition and morbid humbug could have had nothing in
common, he would have laid his hand upon the senior partner of
Cathcart and Cathcart.
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