«I don't want to think so.»
«Because he has taken a fancy to you?»
«Well, that biases me, of course — »
«I daresay it's quite a legitimate bias. You don't think a callous murderer would be likely to take a fancy to you?»
«Well — besides, I've taken rather a fancy to him.»
«I daresay that's quite legitimate, too. You've observed him and made a subconscious deduction from your observations, and the result is, you don't think he did it. Well, why not? You're entitled to take that into account.»
«But perhaps I'm wrong and he did do it.»
«Then why let your vainglorious conceit in your own power of estimating character stand in the way of unmasking the singularly cold-blooded murder of an innocent and lovable man?»
«I know — but I don't feel I'm playing the game somehow.»
«Look here, Peter,» said the other with some earnestness, «suppose you get this playing-fields-of-Eton complex out of your system once and for all. There doesn't seem to be much doubt that something unpleasant has happened to Sir Reuben Levy. Call it murder, to strengthen the argument. If Sir Reuben has been murdered, is it a game? and is it fair to treat it as a game?»