If we were ever to catch the man, we must not
allow him to see we suspected him. So Charles played a dark game.
He swallowed the geologist whole without question.
Most of that morning we spent with them on the hillside. Charles
took them everywhere and showed them everything. He pretended to be
polite to the scientific man, and he was really polite, most polite,
to the poetical lady. Before lunch time we had become quite friends.
The Clays were always easy people to get on with; and, bar their
roguery, we could not deny they were delightful companions. Charles
asked them in to lunch. They accepted willingly. He introduced them
to Amelia with sundry raisings of his eyebrows and contortions
of his mouth. "Professor and Mrs. Forbes-Gaskell," he said,
half-dislocating his jaw with his violent efforts. "They're stopping
at the inn, dear. I've been showing them over the place, and they're
good enough to say they'll drop in and take a share in our cold
roast mutton;" which was a frequent form of Charles's pleasantry.
Amelia sent them upstairs to wash their hands--which, in the
Professor's case, was certainly desirable, for his fingers were
grimed with earth and dust from the rocks he had been investigating.
As soon as we were left alone Charles drew me into the library.
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