Not to make a fuss, I dropped it very quietly; but Pettigrew must have been listening for the sound.
He wheeled round at once, and pushed the garden tobacco toward me.
Never, perhaps, have I thought so little of him as at that moment.

My indignation probably showed in my face, for he drew back, saying that he thought I "wanted to try it." Now I had never said that I did not want to try it.

The reader has seen that I went to Pettigrew's house solely with the object of trying the tobacco.

Had Pettigrew, then, any ground for insinuating that I did not mean to try it?
Restraining my passion, I lighted a third cigar, and then put the question to him bluntly.

Did he, or did he not, mean to try that tobacco?
I dare say I was a little brusque; but it must be remembered that I had come all the way from the inn, at considerable inconvenience, to give the tobacco a thorough trial.
[Illustration] As is the way with men of Pettigrew's type, when you corner them, he attempted to put the blame on me.