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'That poor chap, Jukie said to me afterwards. 'He's in a wretched position. He has to profess Christianity, and he doesn't want even to try to live up to it. At least, whenever he has a flash of desire to, that atheist wife of his puts it out. She's the worst sort of atheist the sort that says her prayers regularly. Why are parsons allowed to marry?

What could Christianity do, a frail, tilting, crusading St. George, up against the monster dragon Grab, who held us all in his coils? It's no use, Jukie; it never was and never will be any use. I suddenly grew very tired of that party. It seemed a monster meeting of Potterites at play mediocrity, second-rateness, humbug, muddle, cant, cheap stunts the room was full of it all.

Most things don't seem to her to be worth saying. She'll let, for instance, a chatterbox like Juke say a hundred words to her one, and still she'll get most said, though Jukie's not a vapid talker either. 'Jane, she told me, 'is coming back next week. The marriage is to be at the end of April. 'A rapidity worthy of the Hustling Press. Jukie will be sorry.

I felt then as if I had known all along that of course people were saying that. 'Then why isn't he arrested? I asked stupidly. 'He probably will be, before long, said Jukie. 'There's no evidence yet to arrest him on.

A perfect orgy of murders, as Arthur said, and all of them so improbable. Jukie is curate in a slummy parish near Covent Garden. He succeeds, apparently, in really being friends equal and intimate friends with a lot of the men in his parish, which is queer for a person of his kind. I suppose he learnt how while he was in the ranks.

The recent past, Arthur's attitude and Jane's, were all lit up by this horrible flare of light which was turned upon them. 'No, I said at last. 'I don't know, either.... We can't assume for certain that it is a lie. Jukie let out a long breath, and leant forward in his chair, resting his head on his hands. 'Poor old Gideon, he said. 'It might have happened, without any intention on his part.

I remembered that they had left my place together. But neither Arthur nor Jane had told me that he had gone home with her. 'The inquest said it was accidental, I said, protesting against something, I didn't quite know what. Jukie shrugged his shoulders. 'That's not very likely to stop people talking.

It was odd that, as I was thinking these things, walking up Surrey Street from the Temple Embankment, I overtook Gideon, who was slouching along in his usual abstracted way. I touched his arm and spoke to him. He gave me his queer, half-ironical smile. 'Hallo, Jukie.... Where are you bound?... By the way, did you by chance see the Haste this morning? 'Not by chance.

Every circumstance seemed against him. I knew that, as I walked back to the laboratory after lunch. And yet and yet. Well, perhaps, as Jukie would say, it wasn't my business. My business at the moment was to carry on investigations into the action of carbohydrates. Arthur Gideon had nothing to do with this, nor I with his private slayings, if any.

He shot the question at me, hoping I had some answer. But I had none. I shook my head. 'Well, said Jukie sadly, 'it isn't, I suppose, our business whether he did or didn't do it. That's between him and himself. But it is our business, whether he's innocent or guilty, to put him on his guard against this talk. It's for you or me to do that, Katherine. Will you? 'If you like.