There were three minutes of absolute silence during which Diggle, in the most leisurely way possible, finished and blotted his letter.
“And now, Sharper,” said Diggle, “I think you wished to say something.”
“Well, I mean to say, what have you been and done with my partnership?”
“I was not aware that you had one.”
“No, but you promised me. And now you’ve gone and given it to Dobson.”
“I promised you nothing. And that, I think, is what you have got. Dobson is very gravely in error in telling you anything at all about it. If you will kindly send him here, I will speak to him on the subject.”
“Dobson never said a single word about it. I’ll take my Bible oath he never did. He came into my room and began to speak in rather a dictatorial way, and I said, ‘You might be a partner,’ and he blushed.”
“I do not think so,” said Diggle. “Dobson does not blush. If he did blush it could not show on that complexion.”
“But on my word of honor he did. White-faced men blush red. Red-faced men blush purple. Any man of science will tell you that.”
“The appointment of a partnership is entirely within my discretion. It has nothing to do with you. If you have nothing further to say, I need not detain you.”