Macpherson certainly was conducting himself with great discretion, and presented, quite unconsciously, a much more diplomatic figure than my friend, Spenser Hale, sitting stiffly opposite me. His tone was one of mild expostulation, mitigated by the intimation that all misunderstanding speedily would be cleared away. To outward view he offered a perfect picture of innocence, neither protesting too much nor too little. I had, however, another surprise in store for him, a trump card, as it were, and I played it down on the table.
'There!' I cried with vim, 'have you ever seen that sheet before?'
He glanced at it without offering to take it in his hand.
'Oh, yes,' he said, 'that has been abstracted from our file. It is what I call my visiting list.'
'Come, come, sir,' I cried sternly, 'you refuse to confess, but I warn you we know all about it. You never heard of Dr. Willoughby, I suppose?'
'Yes, he is the author of the silly pamphlet on Christian Science.'
'You are in the right, Mr. Macpherson; on Christian Science and Absent-Mindedness.'
'Possibly. I haven't read it for a long while.'
'Have you ever met this learned doctor, Mr. Macpherson?'
'Oh, yes. Dr. Willoughby is the pen-name of Mr. Summertrees. He believes in Christian Science and that sort of thing, and writes about it.'