The idea of the District Surveyor being seriously perturbed over the possibility of my being roasted alive struck me as rather improbable, but I was careful not to give any impression of doubting the statement.
"As a matter of fact," I said, "there is no chance of a tragedy of that sort. I have taken the place to make a few experiments in connection with photography. The stuff I am using is quite uninflammable."
All the time I was speaking I was watching him carefully to see if I could detect the least sign of his recognizing me. For any such indication, however, we might have been utter strangers.
He accepted my falsehood as politely as I had received his.
"Well, in that case," he said, with a smile, "there is really no need for me to bother you any further. I will tell the Surveyor that you are a strictly law-abiding citizen. Meanwhile"—he stepped back and again raised his hat—"let me apologize once more for having broken into your place."
Whether there was any deliberate irony in his remark I was unable to guess; his manner at all events gave no hint of it.
"You needn't apologize," I returned artlessly. "It was my own fault for leaving the door open."
I thought I saw the faintest possible quiver at the corner of his lips, but if so it was gone again at once.
"Yes," he said gravely. "You will find it safer to keep the place locked up. Good-day, sir."
"Good-day," I replied, and turning deliberately away from him I sauntered off towards the hut.