However, what
matter these psychological dissections? He came with me unsuspecting, and I
piloted him out of the taxi without his ever noticing the name of the
street even. How could I have foreseen? Well, anyhow I didn't, or I
shouldn't have tipped him on the stairs.
With many nods and winks I gave my wife the hint how I had managed it, and
we went about the house whispering and hobnobbing in odd corners like a
couple of conspirators while he began the work of installation.
Then the first dreadful moment came. Suddenly he addressed me by my name,
with a certain suspicious interrogation in his tone.
"Who?" I asked blandly, going as red as a turkey-cock, of course; I never
can help it.
He looked surprised and I plunged heavily, giving the first name I could
think of, which happened to be the one he had mentioned in the taxi--his
own, in fact. He looked still more suspicious and I knew it had been a
mistake, especially as close to where he had been working were two
envelopes addressed to me.
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