“Oh, certainly.”
“With, or without me?”
“Yes.”
“Why couldn’t you have said so at first and saved this discussion?” cried his host. “Of course, if you’re in for it, so am I. But what about your reputation?”
“It’s worth a good deal to me,” confessed the scientist. “And I can’t deny I’m staking it all on my theory of this case. If I’m wrong—well, it’s about the finis of my career.”
“See here, Chet!” broke out his friend. “Do you think I’m going to let you take that kind of a chance for me?”
“It isn’t for you,” declared the other with irritation. “It’s for myself. Can’t you understand that this is my case? You’re only an incident in it. I’m betting my career against—well, against the devil of mischance, that I’m right. As I told you, I’m naturally timid. I don’t plunge, except on a practically sure thing. So don’t get any foolish notions of obligation to me. Think it over. Meantime, do you care to run over to the library? No? Well, for the rest of the evening I can be found—no; I can not be found, though I’ll be there—in room 571.”
“All right,” said Sedgwick. “You needn’t fear any further intrusion. But when is our venture?”
“To-morrow night,” replied Kent, “Wilfrid Blair having officially died, as per specifications, to-day.”