Explore "The Amateur Crime" by Anthony Berkeley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The truth was that Mr. Priestley had suddenly given way to his overwrought nerves. He had a perfectly sound reason for wanting to get himself and his cuff-mate securely alone inside that bedroom, but when he heard himself being called a cad, before he had even had time to explain (if explanation were needed) that his intentions were strictly honourable, the words had simply frozen on his lips. The mildest of men will show signs of unrest on hearing the word "cad" directed at themselves from the lips of a pretty girl, and Mr. Priestley, as he had already proved to his own surprise, was apparently not the mildest of men. His subsequent outburst, the cumulative result of desperate anxiety manfully suppressed and blank horror, simply followed.
Before they had preceded the landlady into the charming pink-and-white bedroom, on whose hearth a fire was already miraculously burning, sanity had returned and he was mildly penitent for the freedom of his speech. Not very penitent, however, for the sooner some one told this obnoxious young woman a few home-truths, the better for the world in general.