“Lots of fellows do what?” he murmured feebly, still holding one hand over his eyes.
“Call themselves Professors when they’re not,”—said the Goblin.
Here ensued a moment’s intense stillness. Even the noise of the storm outside had, for that short interval ceased,—the fire burned silently,—and not a breath stirred the air. Only the glowing tassel on “Professor” Goblin’s cap waved to and fro as though moved by an unfelt wind.
“When I rang you up on the telephone just now,”—resumed the Goblin—
But at this McNason jumped in his chair and uncovered his eyes.
“You rang me up?—you—you—!” he stammered.
“Yes—I! Who did you think it was, eh? Your ‘private wire’? Oh, Beelzebub! Nothing’s ‘private’ to me! I should ring up the Prime Minister out of his bed if I happened to want him!”
McNason felt the muscles of his back stiffening in horror.
“You would?—you would——?”
“Certainly! I often use telephones! Capital things! They have to do with the currents of the air, you know!—and other folks work on currents of the air besides Humans! Humans aren’t the only people in the universe! Don’t look so scared, McNason!—I won’t hurt you! As I remarked before, when I rang you up just now, I wondered what title I should take to ingratiate myself with you. You like titles, I know!—you’ve been thinking of a Peerage for yourself—quite right too! Get all you can, McNason!—get all you can that money will buy! But as I never deal in Honours now, I couldn’t pass myself off as a Duke or an Earl. The man that sells these things is more in your line than mine. And I gave up brewing beer and running ‘party’ newspapers long ago, so I could hardly be a Lord. Besides Lords are getting so common—frightfully common, McNason! In fact Lords are becoming Commons! Oh, Beelzebub! Excuse the joke! And as for being a ‘Sir’—oh, hoo-roo, hoo-roo!” And the Goblin, untwisting itself, beat its large paunch slowly in the fashion of a drum, evoking a dreary hollow sound which almost made McNason cry—“Only a provincial Mayor would accept it nowadays! I half thought I’d say I was a Colonel or a General,—but then you’d have taken me for an American,—and I wouldn’t be an American Bounder for twenty Next-Worlds! Then I decided I would be ‘Professor.’ ‘Professor’ struck me as being quite the proper thing;—nice-sounding, wise and imposing!—and anyone can call himself a Professor—even a palmist who robs poor silly dupes of money for telling their fortunes which neither he nor anybody knows! Hoo-roo! Hoo-roo! What humbugs there are in the world, McNason! You know that! You’re one!”