"I should think I did. But he was one of those people that won't say more than they want to. I could never make him out myself. He used to just sit there and smile and never say a word, but got me on to talk instead."
"Well, I suppose it couldn't be anyone else?"
"It was him sure enough. He was an old bachelor, and an eccentric sort of fellow, with nobody to leave his money to, so it wasn't altogether strange he should send me that little bit of all he'd made, in return for all the yarns I'd told to brighten him up. Anyway, things took a turn for the better after that, and I pulled round all right, so I've nothing to worry about now, in spite of all you've cost me."
"It wasn't so much, I'm sure. And if only that aerial torpedo of mine had gone right, I'd have paid you back with interest."
"But it went wrong—and so did you, my good sir; and if you talk about sacrifice, why, I think it was sacrifice enough, after I'd thrown away £200 on the wretched thing, to come out myself to the parade ground and see the thing go awry."
"By an unfortunate accident."
"A very fortunate accident, if you ask me, that it didn't come down where we stood, or it might have done for a whole crowd of innocent folk that were simple enough to come out and look."
"I don't know, I'm sure, what you want to drag up that old story again for."
"Because I want you to keep to earth in future. Stay at home—on the mat, if you like it that way."
"Will you help us to go to Paris, or will you not?"