self from the ill-fame of profiting by the old man's death? Probably, oh, probably. But there was a feeling called remorse found in human nature. And why did the angel wife tell Geoffrey to keep the money? She ought to want her husband clear of ill-fame. You would expect a woman to care more about that than the man himself. And you would expect a woman to share her husband's rage with the horrid man who had not stuck up for him. Instead of which the angel wife was very anxious to keep on good terms with that horrid man. Because he represented the police? Or why else? She had a dubious way with her, the angel wife.
Reggie was worried—a rare state for him—and he took himself to his least sociable club. He was sitting there, glowering at a scientific American paper, when the voice of Lomas addressed him.
"Care killed a cat, Reginald. Why so blue?"
Reggie sat up. "Life is real, life is earnest, Lomas. 'And the grave is not the goal.' That's because of our filthy profession, which is always bothering the corpses. Come away. I am worried. I am going to worry you."
As they walked in St. James's Park, Reggie told him of the queer talk in the studio. "I want comfort, Lomas, old thing," he concluded. "Comfort me."
"My dear Fortune! It's quite clear, what? Unsatisfactory case, profoundly unsatisfactory. But
