“In your place—?”
“Yes: supposing he’d found out the things I’ve found out in the last year or two. You’ll see what they are, and how much they count, if you’ll run over the report of the lectures. If your father’d been alive he might have come across the same facts just as easily.”
There was a silence which Archie at last broke by saying: “But he didn’t, and you did. There’s the difference.”
“The difference? What difference? Would your father have suppressed the facts if he’d found them? It’s you who insult his memory by implying it! And if I’d brought them to him, would he have used his hold over me to get me to suppress them?”
“Certainly not. But can’t you see it’s his death that makes the difference? He’s not here to defend his case.”
Dredge laughed, but not unkindly. “My dear Archie, your father wasn’t one of the kind who bother to defend their case. Men like him are the masters, not the servants, of their theories. They respect an idea only as long as it’s of use to them; when it’s usefulness ends they chuck it out. And that’s what your father would have done.”
Archie reddened. “Don’t you assume a good deal in taking it for granted that he would have had to in this particular case?”
Dredge reflected. “Yes: I was going too far. Each of us can only answer for himself. But to my mind your father’s theory is refuted.”
“And you don’t hesitate to be the man to do it?”
“Should I have been of any use if I had? And did your father ever ask anything of me but to be of as much use as I could?”