“I merely——”
“Or, rather,” the enigma proceeded, “you didn’t think at all.”
Rivers and Carpentaria exchanged a glance, indicating to each other that the man was an invalid and must therefore be humoured.
“Really, Mr.——-” Carpentaria began.
“Call me Jetsam,” the invalid interrupted. “It isn’t my name, but it’s near enough.”
“Well, Mr. Jetsam——”
“Not at all,” said Mr. Jetsam, sitting up in the chair. “There I was, comfortably dead, blind and deaf for evermore to the stupidities, the shams, the crimes, and the tedium of this world, and you go and deliberately recreate me! Is your opinion of the earth, and particularly of England, so high that you imagine a man is better on it than off it? Have you reached your present position and your present age, without coming to the conclusion that a person once comfortably dead would never want to be alive again? It seems to me, that you took upon yourselves the responsibility, the terrible responsibility of putting me back into life without giving the matter a moment’s serious thought. And I do verily believe that you expected me to be grateful! Grateful!”
“It was a question of duty——” Carpentaria ventured.
“Yes, of course. It only remained for you to drag in that word; I anticipated it. And why was it your duty? Who told you it was your duty? What authority have you for saying it was your duty? None—absolutely none! The sole explanation of your conduct is that, like most human beings, you are an interfering busybody; you can’t leave a thing alone.”
At length Carpentaria laughed. He was conscious of a certain liking for Mr. Jetsam.