I was afraid it was all over, but luckily he gave me an opening again after gulping down his wine.
“He leads you on to argue,” he said.
“That——?”
“That he can’t prove it.”
“Yes?”
“And then he shows you he can. Just showing off how damned ingenious he is.”
I was a little confused. “Prove what?” I asked.
“Haven’t I been telling you?” said Micklethwaite, growing very red. “About this confounded mermaid of his at Folkestone.”
“He says there is one?”
“Yes, he does,” said Micklethwaite, going purple and staring at me very hard. He seemed to ask mutely whether I of all people proposed to turn on him and back up this infamous scoundrel. I thought for a moment he would have apoplexy, but happily he remembered his duty as my host. So he turned very suddenly on a meditative waiter for not removing our plates.