much?" he asked abruptly, raising his eyes and meeting mine. "Good heavens, what is the matter? What have I done? What crime have I committed?"
I couldn't help flushing at being asked such a point-blank question. Under the circumstances it struck me as hardly short of an impertinence.
"I do not know what you mean," I said; "and even if I did, I should not care to discuss it with you. Indeed, I'd be obliged if you'd let me fix my car for myself."
"I beg your pardon," he returned, still holding tight to the plug, and gazing down at me in the most disconcerting way. "It isn't that I mind being let alone. In fact, that's why I came here. The house has an atmosphere; and you can hardly imagine how important atmosphere is to a savant. But, while I was prepared to be regarded as a recluse—as a crank, even—it didn't occur to me that I was qualifying to become the pariah of Studdingham!"
27
