t tell you about it,
but it is a mess. Jane and I are in a mess.... Oh, you've guessed,
haven't you, about Jane and me? Juke guessed.'

'Yes. I guessed that before Jukie did. Before you did, as a matter of
fact.'

'You did?' But he wasn't much interested. 'Then you _see_ ...'

'Not altogether, Arthur. I can't see it's a mess, exactly. A shock, of
course ...'

He looked at me for a moment, as if he were adjusting his point of
view to mine.

'Well, no. You wouldn't see it, of course. But there's more to this than
you know--much more. Anyhow, please take my word for it that it _is_ a
mess. A ghastly mess.'

I took his word for it. As there didn't seem to be any comment to make, I
made none, but waited for him to go on. He went on.

'And what I wanted to ask you, Katherine, was, can you look after Jane a
little? She'll need it; she needs it. She's got to get through it
somehow.... And that family of hers always buzzing round.... If we could
keep Lady Pinkerton off her ...'

'You want me to mix a poison for Lady P?' I suggested.

Arthur must have been very far through, for he actually started.

'Oh, Heaven forbid.... One sudden death in the family is enough at a
time,' he added feebly, trying to smile.

'Well,' I said, 'I'll do my best to see after Jane and to counteract the
family.... I've not gone there or written, or anything yet, because I
didn't want to butt in. But I will.'

'I wish she'd come back here and live with you,' he said.

To soothe him, I said I would ask her.

For nearly an hour longer he stayed, not talking much, but smoking hard,
and from time to time jerking out a disconnected remark. I think he
hardly knew what he was saying or doing that evening; he seemed dazed,
and I noticed that his hands were shaking, as if he was feverish, or
drunk, or something.

When at last he went, he held my hand and wrung it so that it hurt;
this was unusual, too, because we never do shake hands, we meet much
too often.

I thought it over and couldn't quite understand it all. It even occurred
to me that it was a little Potterish of Arthur to make a conventional
tragic situation out of what he couldn't really mind very much, and to
make out that Jane was overwhelmed by what, I believed, didn't really
overwhelm her. But that didn't do. Arthur was never Potterish. There
must, therefore, be more to this than I understood.

Unless, of course, it was merely that Arthur was afraid of the effects of
the shock