This supposititious phenomenon is so very disagreeable to Mr Guppy that his voice quakes, as he says in a moral way, “Tony, I should have thought that what we went through last night, would have been a lesson to you never to be personal any more as long as you lived.” To which Mr Weevle returns, “William, I should have thought it would have been a lesson to you never to conspire any more as long as you lived.” To which Mr Guppy says, “Who’s conspiring?” To which Mr Jobling replies, “Why, you are!” To which Mr Guppy retorts, “No, I am not.” To which Mr Jobling retorts again, “Yes, you are!” To which Mr Guppy retorts, “Who says so?” To which Mr Jobling retorts, “I say so!” To which Mr Guppy retorts, “Oh, indeed?” To which Mr Jobling retorts, “Yes, indeed!” And both being now in a heated state, they walk on silently for a while, to cool down again.

“Tony,” says Mr Guppy, then, “if you heard your friend out, instead of flying at him, you wouldn’t fall into mistakes. But your temper is hasty, and you are not considerate. Possessing in yourself, Tony, all that is calculated to charm the eye—”

“Oh! Blow the eye!” cries Mr Weevle, cutting him short. “Say what you have got to say!”

Finding his friend in this morose and material condition, Mr Guppy only expresses the finer feelings of his soul through the tone of injury in which he recommences:

“Tony, when I say there is a point on which we must come to an understanding pretty soon, I say so quite apart from any kind of conspiring, however innocent. You know it is professionally arranged beforehand, in all cases that are tried, what facts the witnesses are to prove. Is it, or is it not, desirable that we should know what facts we are to prove, on the inquiry into the death of this unfortunate old Mo—gentleman?” (Mr Guppy was going to say, “Mogul,” but thinks “gentleman” better suited to the circumstances.)

“What facts? The facts.”

“The facts bearing on that inquiry. Those are —” Mr Guppy tells them off on his fingers — “what we knew of his habits; when you saw him last; what his condition was then; the discovery that we made, and how we made it.”

“Yes,” says Mr Weevle. “Those are about the facts.”

“We made the discovery, in consequence of his having, in his eccentric way, an appointment with you at twelve o’clock at night, when you were to explain some writing to him, as you had often done before, on account of his not being able to read. I, spending the evening with you, was called down — and so forth. The inquiry being only into the circumstances touching the death of the deceased, it’s not necessary to go beyond these facts, I suppose you’ll agree?”

“No!” returns Mr Weevle. “I suppose not.”

“And this is not a conspiracy, perhaps?” says the injured Guppy.

“No,” returns his friend; “if it’s nothing worse than this, I withdraw the observation.”

“Now, Tony,” says Mr Guppy, taking his arm again, and walking him slowly on, “I should like to know, in a friendly way, whether you have yet thought over the many advantages of your continuing to live at that place?”

“What do you mean?” says Tony, stopping.

“Whether you have yet thought over the many advantages of your continuing to live at that place?” repeats Mr Guppy, walking him on again.

“At what place? That place?” pointing in the direction of the rag and bottle shop.