“I tell you we didn’t do it,” repeated Telson, “and you’ve got to prove we did before you say we did,” added he, with triumphant emphasis.
“You’ve got to prove you didn’t,” replied Parson, not to be beaten in this line of argument.
“How can I prove we didn’t when—when we didn’t do it?” cried Telson, making up in noise for what he lacked in logic.
“I knew you couldn’t prove it!” said Parson, triumphant in his turn. “I knew it was one of your blackguard—”
“All right, old man, I shall fight you,” said Telson.
“I didn’t mean, old man, really,” said Parson. “What I mean to say is—”
“I don’t care what you say,” said Telson. “What I say is, we did not do it!”
“All very well,” replied Parson, “but I’m certain you did.”
“How are you certain, I’d like to know?”
“Because, I tell you,” said Parson, slowly and incisively, “it couldn’t have been done by any one else.”