“I mean,” said the Colonel, “that I have little to offer you beyond the
guesses and surmises of club talk. It will be for your own intelligence
to penetrate through the obscurity afterwards. You understand me?”
“I believe I understand you,” said Upton, slowly, and with the same
quiet smile. Now, this cold, semi-sarcastic manner of Upton was the
one sole thing in the world which the honest Colonel could not stand
up against; he always felt as though it were the prelude to something
cutting or offensive,--some sly impertinence that he could not detect
till too late to resent,--some insinuation that might give the point
to a whole conversation, and yet be undiscovered by him till the day
following. Little as Harcourt was given to wronging his neighbor, he
in this instance was palpably unjust; Upton's manner being nothing more
than the impress made upon a very subtle man by qualities very unlike
any of his own, and which in their newness amused him. The very look of
satire was as often an expression of sorrow and regret that he could
not be as susceptible--as easy of deception--as those about him. Let us
pardon our worthy Colonel if he did not comprehend this; shrewder heads
than his own had made the same mistake. Half to resent this covert
slyness, half to arouse himself to any conflict before him, he said,
in a tone of determination, “It is only fair to tell you that you are
yourself to blame for anything that may have befallen poor Glencore.”
“I to blame! Why, my dear Harcourt, you are surely dreaming.”
“As wide awake as ever I was. If it had not been for a blunder of
yours,--an unpardonable blunder, seeing what has come of it,--sending
a pack of trash to me about salt and sulphur, while you forwarded a
private letter about Glencore to the Foreign Office, all this might not
have happened.”
“I remember that it was a most disagreeable mistake. I have paid heavily
for it, too. That lotion for the cervical vertebrae has come back all
torn, and we cannot make out whether it be a phosphate or a prot'-oxide
of bismuth. You don't happen to remember?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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