_The Secret_ "What do you mean ?" asked Priam Farll.

But he put the question weakly, and he might just as well have said, "I know what you mean, and I would pay a million pounds or so in order to sink through the floor." A few minutes ago he would only have paid five hundred pounds or so in order to run simply away.

Now he wanted Maskelyne miracles to happen to him.
The universe seemed to be caving in about the ears of Priam Farll.
Mr.Oxford was still smiling; smiling, however, as a man holds his breath for a wager.

You felt that he could not keep it up much longer.
"You _are_ Priam Farll, aren't you ?" said Mr.Oxford in a very low voice.
"What makes you think I'm Priam Farll ?" "I think you are Priam Farll because you painted that picture I bought from you this morning, and I am sure that no one but Priam Farll could have painted it." "Then you've been playing a game with me all morning!" "Please don't put it like that, _cher maitre_," Mr.Oxford whisperingly pleaded.

"I only wished to feel my ground.