Verelst stared. A man of the world and, as such, at his ease in any circumstances, none the less he was startled. "How in God's name did you get that?"
"It is very simple. Five minutes ago his father sailed by. You made a remark about him. The remark suggested a train of thought which landed you at the racecourse where you saw, or intimated that you saw, the steeplestakes. But what visible sweepstakes are there except M. P.'s son? You and M. P. are friends. It is only natural that you should ask about him."
Verelst turned uneasily. "I don't yet see how you got it. The only thing I said is that I heard he was dying."
"And five minutes ago you exclaimed at his resurrection. There is a discrepancy there that is very suggestive."
"It is none of my making then."
"It is none the less suggestive. The death-bed was invented."
"M. P. may have recovered."
"Yes, men of his age make a practice of jumping into their death-bed and then jumping out. It is good for them. It keeps them in training."
"Oh, rubbish!" Verelst resentfully exclaimed.
"No," Jones pursued. "The story was invented and the invention had a reason. If you like, you may ask what it is."