minister,
'Haven't you heard _that_? Oh, everybody's quoting it in Fleet Street,
aren't they, Mr. Bryan? But I suppose you never go to Fleet Street, Mr.
Blank; it's so important, isn't it, for the government not to get mixed
up with the press. Well, I'll tell it you.

'There was a young journalist Yid,
Of his foes of the press he got rid
In ways brief and bright,
For, at dead of the night,
He threw them downstairs, so he did.

It's about the late editor of the _Daily Haste_ and Mr. Gideon of the
_Weekly Fact_. No, I don't know who's responsible for it, but I believe
it's perfectly true. They're saying so everywhere now. I believe that
awful Pinkerton woman is going about saying she has conclusive evidence;
it's been revealed from the Beyond, I believe; I expect by poor Mr.
Hobart himself. No, I'm sure she didn't make the limerick; she's not a
poet, only a novelist. Perhaps it came from the Beyond, through
planchette. Anyhow, they say Mr. Gideon will be arrested on a murder
charge very shortly, and that there's no doubt he's guilty.'

I leant across the table.

'_Who's_ saying so, Aunt Cynthia?' I asked her.

Aunt Cynthia hates being asked that about her stories. Of course. Every
one does. I do myself.

Aunt Cynthia looked at me with her childlike convent stare.

'My dear Laurie, how can I remember who says anything, with every one
saying everything all the time? Who? Why, all sorts of people.... Aren't
they, Chloe?'

Chloe, who was showing a spoon and glass trick to the Monsignor, said,
'Aren't who what?'

'Isn't every one saying that Arthur Gideon threw Oliver Hobart downstairs
and killed him?'

'I expect so, dear. Never heard of either of the gentlemen myself.
And did he?'

'Of course he did. He's a Jew, and he hated Hobart and his paper like
poison. The _Fact's_ so different, you know. Every one's clear he did
it. Mind you, I don't blame him. The _Daily Haste_ is a vulgar
Protestant rag.'

'The Jew's a dear friend of Laurie's,' put in Wycombe. 'You'd better be
careful, Aunt Cynthia.'

'Oh, Laurie dear,' my aunt cried, 'how tactless of me. But, my dear boy,
are you really friends with a Jew, and you a Christian priest?'

'I'm friends with Gideon. He's a Gentile by religion, by the way; an
ordinary agnostic. Aunt Cynthia, don't go on spreading that nonsense, if
you don't mind. You might contradict it if you hear it again.'

'Very well, dear. I'll say you have good reason to know it isn't true