"What of?"

"Of your own disinfectant."

"Silly fool!"

Whether he intended the remark to be heard and thus to close the topic
(which it did), or whether, as deaf people are apt to, merely
misjudged the audibility of an intended sotto vocalism, I cannot say.
I only know that outside in the passage I heard the words distinctly,
and therefore assume they reached round the table also.

A lull in the conversation followed, but Hasluck was not thin-skinned,
and the next thing I distinguished was his cheery laugh.

"He's quite right," was Hasluck's comment; "that's what I am
undoubtedly. Because I can't talk about anything but shop myself, I
think everybody else is the same sort of fool."

But he was doing himself an injustice, for on my next arrival in the
passage he was again shouting across the table, and this time
Teidelmann was evidently interested.

"Well, if you could spare the time, I'd be more obliged than I can
tell you," Hasluck was saying. "I know absolutely nothing about
pictures myself, and Pearsall says you are one of the best judges in
Europe."

"He ought to know," chuckled old Teidelmann. "He's tried often enough
to palm off rubbish onto me."