‘You are supposed to know me; that is to say, you are supposed to know that I am the son of a man who was a client of your father. Suddenly I am discovered to be a girl. The captain sends for you, and you are challenged in the presence of the doctor. What will you say?’
‘That’s where it is,’ said he. ‘Make one false step, and ten to one if you’re not presently up to your neck.’
He scratched his head and mused, staring at me. I would not help him. I wished to test the quality of his wits in case he should be challenged as I have said. After a bit, he exclaimed:
‘I should disown all knowledge of you.’
‘That’s good,’ said I.
‘I’d say you told me your name was Simon Marlowe and that your father was a client of my father’s. I should tell no lie by owning I believed the story, because, you see, uncle was a client of the dad’s. Well,’ he went on, ‘I should tell them that now you proved to be a girl, you weren’t the young fellow I took you for, and I should call you a liar and disown all knowledge of you.’
‘And in saying so you’d be strictly speaking the truth, so far as Simon Marlowe is concerned,’ said I, rejoiced to find him so ready. ‘You’ll disown me. You’ll call me a liar. You’ll know nothing whatever about me. That’ll be the programme, Will, should you be called upon.’
We stood discussing the matter some time, and then separated, but I was mightily glad to have had this talk with him.