I drew up my chair. "Right," I said.

And in his rapid, clear, high-pitched voice he began to read.

It was the speech of some politician or other he read, and my pencil flew over the paper, swiftly taking down. Page after page I wrote, and I had almost forgotten that I was engaged on anything more than an ordinary exercise when suddenly he called "Time!" I stopped, and took a long breath.

"Now transcribe," he said. "You'll find paper under those gloves."

"No," I said. "You take down now. Saves time. Transcribing's the slow part, and we can both be doing that together."

"All right," he said, pa.s.sing over the paper and making ready.

"Right? Go," I said.

And I began in my turn to read.

He had given me a continuous speech, but I gave him the Police Column.

"Big Blaze in Bermondsey: Suspected Arson," I gave him. ("That chap'll get a couple of years for that," he interdicted). And then I pa.s.sed to "Alleged Bucket-shop Frauds." I had already got my paper from my breast-pocket, that paper I had compiled in the reading-room of the British Museum....

"--bail being granted in two sums of 500," I concluded the bucket-shop paragraph and went on without pause:--

"PATHETIC CONFESSION"

"At Marlborough Street yesterday Rose Baxter, 24, seamstress, living in Osnaburgh Street, was charged before Mr Siddeley with a determined attempt to commit suicide by hanging herself in a shed adjoining her dwelling, the property of Messrs Wright, Knapton & Co. The beginning of the case was reported in _The Argus_ of 24th June. Inspector Woodhead read aloud a letter purporting to be in the prisoner's handwriting, from which we take the following."

("Cheerful subjects you choose, I must say," commented Archie, _sotto voce_.)

"'Dearest mother, I cannot face the disgrace. I hope you will forgive me for the trouble I am bringing on you. I have put it off as long as possible, hoping things would get better, but there is only one end to it."

("Kid, eh?" murmured Archie, writing.)

"'I trust G.o.d will forgive me. I am not afraid to die, I am afraid to live and face it. I cannot do E. this wrong. Please, dear mother, think of me as I used to be. I have tried and tried, but it is all no good, and I am better out of the world.

Give my love to everybody, and try, dear mother, to forgive me.'"

"Time!"

Archie leaned back in his chair.

"Phew! Was that five minutes? Seemed short," he said. "Just a breather before we transcribe." He lighted a cigarette. "I say, Jeff: do you know any dealer who gives a decent price for second-hand clothes? I've heaps here I sha'n't want any more."

I had small use for such a dealer. "You might try Lamb's Conduit Street," I said. "I've bought clothes there."

"Silly a.s.s----I didn't mean that!" He was now monstrously careful of my feelings.

"Say when you're ready to transcribe," I said, pushing across a wad of paper.

"All right, let's get it over. I'll race you! Ready?"

We plunged into our longhand transcription.

"Ah!" I said, twenty minutes later. "Beat you, Archie!"

He was racing through his last paragraph. "Not by much, you haven't," he said, and then, following our practice with exercises at the college, "No you haven't--you haven't signed--hooray!" he cried, dashing in his signature and looking at his watch. "Thirty-two minutes--pretty smart, what?"

An hour later I left, with his exercise as well as my own slipped between the leaves of Smillie's "Balance of Trade"--one of the text-books he had given me.

My hypothetical case was now completely prepared.

And now I spared no effort to save him. When it is yours to slay or to spare, you have in a sense slain even in sparing, for a life has been yours, even as Archie Merridew's life lay in the folds of that signed sheet of paper.

I carried that signed paper in my breast pocket on the day of the breaking-up party to Richmond. It had not been my intention to go to this picnic, for the sufficient reason that I was penniless _pas le sou_--but once more Kitty, to whom I had told some tale or other about pressing work, had broken out upon me.

"Oh yes--of course--I might have known!" she had cried, doubtless knowing that "pressure of work" tale of old from Frank and Alf. "Oh yes--it was quite enough that I should set my heart on it and I might have known you'd be busy or something! Busy!"

Her scornful little laugh had set me tingling: I--busy! But I had already seen that I should have to go. It had only remained for me to climb down to the level of Frank and Alf in the easiest possible way.

"Don't carry on like that, Kitty," I had said shortly. "It isn't so much the work; the fact is I'd like to go; but I can't very well ask them to pay me for the work before it's done, and the fact is I've rather miscalculated this week. It will be all right next week, of course."

"Oh, if that's it," she had said, her hand going as naturally to her pocket as if she had inherited the gesture as she had inherited her features or her name.

So I had accepted her purse, having accepted only meals before, and Alf and Frank and I were of a marrow.

The paper was in my breast pocket as we walked down to the stages to hire our boats. We were a largish party, but except for those in the boat in which I presently found myself--Evie, Kitty and Archie Merridew--I have no very clear recollection of who was there. I took one oar, Evie the other, Archie was not exercising himself physically; and he lay back in the steering seat with Kitty. It was hot; I should have liked to remove my coat; but I dreaded to part myself even by a yard from that paper. As it was my movements caused it to work up a little in my inside pocket; I saw a corner of it at the opening of the coat; it had the appearance of wishing to take a peep at Archie; and by-and-by Archie asked me why I didn't take my coat off.

"Not clean shirt day, eh, Jeff?" he laughed, with the recollection of numerous brown-paper parcels in his eyes.

He himself was taking extreme care of a pair of spotless flannels, and at one stage of the afternoon, I forget when, that suddenly struck me as almost funny enough to shriek aloud at--his care for his flannel bags and carelessness about everything else. It struck me as--I use the words quite literally--devilishly funny. It fascinated me, so that I could not keep from watching him. My eyes wandered from time to time to the other boats of our party and of other parties, moving on the shining river, but they always returned in less than a minute to him, irresistibly drawn. This _galgenhumor_ almost mastered me as the paper again crept up to take another peep at him as he lolled, this time with Evie by his side, for Kitty had taken the other oar. It needed so little, so little imagination to look forward and see, strung out into the future, the results of that irrefutable Evidence in my pocket--the inquest at which I should not even be called as a witness--the funeral I need attend only as a mourner--the shock--the hushing up--and the certainty of everybody that they knew all about it! It was all horribly, horribly perfect....

A picnic? Oh yes, this was a picnic....

"_Do_ take your coat off, Jeff--you'll be so much more comfortable--why, you're streaming!" This came from Kitty, who had the air of publicly possessing me, though only partly by reason of having paid for me, I think.

"Oh, I'm quite all right--really quite comfortable," I replied.

And then I thought of Evie, and that horrible humour rolled away from me. Evie. What about her? She spoke even then.

"Jeff's doing _all_ the work," she said. "I'm sure Kitty and I could manage the boat quite well."

"Better stay as we are," I replied. "Archie and I wouldn't trim."

Yes, what about Evie?

Well, for her it was only a choice of sacrifices. The choice was not of my determining; I put that responsibility on him. There was still time; I would save him if I could; that was settled; but further than that I would not go. Should she fail to survive the shock it would be he, not I who had killed her. Better that, however....

If you can see what else I could have done, tell me. I am willing to learn.

And so we went up the river, and drew in under a bank for tea, and then went ash.o.r.e for a walk, I with Kitty, he with Evie, and so back to the boat again. I do not remember quite how the time went. I know that the sun went down in a flush of rose, and that j.a.panese lanterns appeared on the water and in the water in long smooth reflections, and that parties were singing and playing banjos in the twilight. I could not have sat by Evie--it really would have put the boat out of trim--and so I had not to sit by Kitty either. She and I pulled again; Archie and Evie in the stern seat were hardly distinguishable; and Archie, who had been singing, was quiet again.