‘Absolutely nothing.’
‘It seems to have been a curious episode.’
He moved his eyebrows,—according to members of the House the only gesture in which he has been known to indulge.
‘We become accustomed to curious episodes. Oblige me by not mentioning it to anyone,—to anyone.’ He repeated the last two words, as if to give them emphasis. I wondered if he was thinking of Marjorie. ‘I am communicating with the police. Until they move I don’t want it to get into the papers,—or to be talked about. It’s a worry,—you understand?’
I nodded. He changed the theme.
‘This that you’re engaged upon,—is it a projectile or a weapon?’
‘If you are a member of the next government you will possibly know; if you aren’t you possibly won’t.’
‘I suppose you have to keep this sort of thing secret?’
‘I do. It seems that matters of much less moment you wish to keep secret.’
‘You mean that business of last night? If a trifle of that sort gets into the papers, or gets talked about,—which is the same thing!—you have no notion how we are pestered. It becomes an almost unbearable nuisance. Jones the Unknown can commit murder with less inconvenience to himself than Jones the Notorious can have his pocket picked,—there is not so much exaggeration in that as there sounds.—Good-bye,—thanks for your promise.’ I had given him no promise, but that was by the way. He turned as to go,—then stopped. ‘There’s another thing,—I believe you’re a specialist on questions of ancient superstitions and extinct religions.’