“Then why, in the name of common sense, couldn’t you have left me alone?” he cried. It was as though he owed Carpentaria a grudge which the most cruel ingenuity could not satisfy. “I--I thought----” Carpentaria stammered, too surprised to be able to argue well. “You thought you were doing a mighty clever thing,” snapped the enigma. “I merely----” “Or, rather,” the enigma proceeded, “you didn’t think at all.” Rivers and Carpentaria exchanged a glance, indicating to each other that the man was an invalid and must therefore be humoured. “Really, Mr.-----” Carpentaria began. “Call me Jetsam,” the invalid interrupted. “It isn’t my name, but it’s near enough.” “Well, Mr. Jetsam----” “Not at all,” said Mr. Jetsam, sitting up in the chair. “There I was, comfortably dead, blind and deaf for evermore to the stupidities, the shams, the crimes, and the tedium of this world, and you go and deliberately recreate me! Is your opinion of the earth, and particularly of England, so high that you imagine a man is better on it than off it? Have you reached your present position and your present age, without coming to the conclusion that a person once comfortably dead would never want to be alive again? It seems to me, that you took upon yourselves the responsibility, the terrible responsibility of putting me back into life without giving the matter a moment’s serious thought. And I do verily believe that you expected me to be grateful! Grateful!” “It was a question of duty----” Carpentaria ventured. “Yes, of course. It only remained for you to drag in that word; I anticipated it. And why was it your duty? Who told you it was your duty? What authority have you for saying it was your duty? None--absolutely none! The sole explanation of your conduct is that, like most human beings, you are an interfering busybody; you can’t leave a thing alone.” At length Carpentaria laughed. He was conscious of a certain liking for Mr. Jetsam. “I can but offer you my humble apologies,” he said. “They are of no avail; they will not undo what is done. But none the less I offer them to you. You see, when I last saw you alive, you were so drunk, so very drunk----” “I was not drunk at all,” said Mr. Jetsam. “And your inability to perceive the fact proves that, though you may be able to wear a very stylish uniform and to make a great deal of noise with a band, you are an infant as a detective. No, sir, I had certain plans to execute, and you, with that meddlesomeness that appears to characterize you, came along and interfered. In order that I might be left alone I pretended to be drunk. I have never been drunk in my life, which is conceivably more than you can say for yourself, or you, sir”--and he pointed to the young doctor, who had only recently finished being a medical student. “And those plans--may one inquire?” Carpentaria murmured. Mr. Jetsam covered his face with his hands.