always be
right.

After a moment's silence Peter gathered that they were all waiting to
hear if he had anything to say about it. He hadn't much, but he might
as well say it, such as it was.

"It won't make much difference, of course," he began, and his voice
sounded odd and small and tired in the great room, "but I think I
should like you to know that all this stopped three weeks ago.
Hilary--we--decided then to--to give it up, and run 'The Gem' on
different lines in future. We couldn't easily undo the past--but--but
there's been nothing of the sort since then, and we didn't mean there to
be again. Oh, I know that doesn't make much difference, of course...."

The only difference that mattered was that Denis frowned.
Incidentally--only that didn't matter--Cheriton laughed curtly, and Lord
Evelyn wearily said, "Oh, stop lying, stop lying. I'm so unutterably
tired of your lies.... You think we don't know that your brother accepted
a bribe this very afternoon.... Tell him, Jim."

So Jim told him. He told him shortly, and in plain words, and not as if
he was pleased with his triumph in skilful detection, which he no doubt
was.

"I rather wanted to sift this business, Margerison, as I had suspected
for a good while more than I could prove. So to-day I sent a man to your
brother, commissioning him to pretend to be an art-dealer and offer a sum
of money for the insertion in 'The Gem' of an appreciative notice of some
spurious objects. As perhaps you are aware, the offer was accepted.... It
may seem to you an underhand way of getting evidence--but the case was
peculiar."

He didn't look at Peter; his manner, though distant, was not now
unfriendly; perhaps, having gained his object and sifted the business,
there was room for compassion. It was a pity that Peter had made things
worse by that last lie, though.

"I see," said Peter. "It's all very complete."

And then he laughed, as he always did when disasters were so very
complete as to leave no crevice of escape to creep through.

"You laugh," said Lord Evelyn, and rose from his chair, trembling a
little. "You laugh. It's been an admirable joke, hasn't it? And you
always had plenty of sense of humour."

Peter didn't hear him. He wasn't laughing any more; he was looking at
Denis, who had never looked at him once, but sat smoking with averted
face.

"Shall I go now?" said Peter. "There isn't much more to say, is there?
And what there is, perhaps you will tell us to-m