Roberts: ‘Do you think so? Well?’
Willis: ‘And then you say, “Well, this is the most remarkable coincidence I ever heard of. I didn’t get my own watch from the fellow, but I got yours, Mr. Bemis;” and then you hand it over to him and say, “Sorry I had to break the chain in getting it from him,” and then everybody laughs again, and—and that ends it.’
Roberts, with a profound sigh: ‘Do you think that would end it?’
Willis: ‘Why, certainly. It’ll put old Bemis in the wrong, don’t you see? It’ll show that instead of letting the fellow escape to go and rob him, you attacked him and took Bemis’s property back from him yourself. Bemis wouldn’t have a word to say. All you’ve got to do is to keep up a light, confident manner.’
Roberts: ‘But what if it shouldn’t put Bemis in the wrong? What if he shouldn’t say or do anything that we’ve counted upon, but something altogether different?’
Willis: ‘Well, then, you must trust to inspiration, and adapt yourself to circumstances.’
Roberts: ‘Wouldn’t it be rather more of a joke to come out with the facts at once?’
Willis: ‘On you it would; and a year from now—say next Christmas—you could get the laugh on Bemis that way. But if you were to risk it now, there’s no telling how he’d take it. He’s so indignant he might insist upon leaving the house. But with this plan of mine—’
Roberts, in despair: ‘I couldn’t, Willis. I don’t feel light, and I don’t feel confident, and I couldn’t act it. If it were a simple lie—’
Willis: ‘Oh, lies are never simple; they require the exercise of all your ingenuity. If you want something simple, you must stick to the truth, and throw yourself on Bemis’s mercy.’