"What, indeed?"
The Father began to feel rather bewildered, under a sort of compulsion which seemed laid upon him to give earnest attention to a matter that ought to strike him—so he felt—as entirely absurd. When they came into the library his eyes immediately turned, with profound curiosity, towards the parrot's cage. A slight smile curled the Professor's lips. He recognised the effect he was producing upon his friend. The Father saw the smile.
"Oh, I'm not won over yet," he said in answer to it.
"I know. Perhaps you may be before the evening is over. Here comes the coffee. After we have drunk it we'll proceed to our experiment. Leave the coffee, Pitting, and don't disturb us again."
"No, sir."
"I won't have it black to-night," said the Father, "plenty of milk, please. I don't want my nerves played upon."
"Suppose we don't take coffee at all?" said Guildea. "If we do you may trot out the theory that we are not in a perfectly normal condition. I know you, Murchison, devout Priest and devout sceptic."
The Father laughed and pushed away his cup.
"Very well, then. No coffee."
"One cigarette, and then to business."