It took more than a trifle to “stump” Raish Pulcifer. He was accustomed to boast that it did. But he had never been nearer to being stumped than at that moment.
“You—bought—” He puffed the words as a locomotive puffs smoke when leaving a station.
“Yes,” said Galusha, calmly, “I bought both his and hers.”
“You did!... You did!... Well, by cripes! But—but why?”
“Because, I—ah—For reasons of my own, Mr. Pulcifer. Please pardon me if I do not go into that. I do not wish to appear rude, but the reasons are quite personal, really.”
“Personal!... Well, I'll be dummed if this ain't the nerviest piece of brass cheek ever I—Say, look here, Bangs! Why didn't you tell me you'd bought them shares? What did you—Why, you must have had 'em all the time I was offerin' you commissions for buyin' 'em. Hey? DID you have 'em then?”
“Why—ah—yes, I did.”
“And you never said nothin', but just let me talk! And—and how about this seance thing? You was the one put me up to making Marietta pretend to get messages from Jeth's wife tellin' him to sell his stock to me. YOU done it. I'd never thought of it if you hadn't put the notion in my head. And—and all the time—Oh, by CRIPES!”
Again his agitation brought on a fit of incoherence. And he was not the only astonished person about that table. Galusha, however, was quite calm. He continued to fold and unfold his napkin.
“It may be,” he said, slowly, “that I owe you an apology, Mr. Pulcifer. I did deceive you, or, at least, I did not undeceive you.” He paused, sighed, and then added, with a twisted smile, “I seem to have been a—ah—universal deceiver, as one might say. However, that is not material just now. I had what seemed to me good reasons for wishing Captain Hallett to learn that Miss Hoag was not a genuine—ah—psychic. It occurred to me that a mention of his late wife's wish to have him sell something he did not possess might accomplish that result. I misled you, of course, and I apologize, Mr. Pulcifer. I am sorry, but it seemed necessary to do so. Yes, quite.”