“You know Mr. Ackroyd?” I said, slightly surprised.

“ Mr. Ackroyd knew me in London⁠—when I was at work there. I have asked him to say nothing of my profession down here.”

“I see,” I said, rather amused by this patent snobbery, as I thought it.

But the little man went on with an almost grandiloquent smirk. “One prefers to remain incognito. I am not anxious for notoriety. I have not even troubled to correct the local version of my name.”

“Indeed,” I said, not knowing quite what to say.