“Wender has a theory,” Lithway said.
But he seemed actually to want to change the subject. Accordingly, I did change it—a little. I didn’t really care for Wender’s theories. I had heard some of them. They included elementals.
“Tell me some more about yours. She’s the most convincing of the three. Do you recognize her?”
“Never saw any one that looked remotely like her.”
“And you are the first occupant of this house,” I mused. “Was she dressed in an old-fashioned way?”
Lithway actually blushed. “She is dressed rather oddly—her hair is done queerly. I’ve hunted the fashion-books through, and I can’t find such a fashion anywhere in the last century. I’m not in the least afraid, but I am curious about her, I admit.”
“Was Wender’s rattlesnake old-fashioned?”
Lithway got up. “See here,” he said, “I’m not going to stand jollying. That’s the one thing I am afraid of. Should you like to hear Wender’s theory?”
“Not I,” I said firmly. “He believes in two kinds of magic—white and black—and has eaten the fruit of the mango-tree that a fakir has just induced to grow out of the seed before his eyes. He told me once that devils were square. I’m not in the least interested in Wender’s rattlesnake. The wonder is, with his peculiar twist of mind, that he doesn’t insist on living in this house.”
“He particularly hates snakes,” answered Lithway. “He was hoping to see her, but he never could. Nor you, apparently.”