le up
and disappear, very soon. You won't even remember him."

"But," I said, "you go about with him, as if you.... You are getting
yourself talked about.... Everyone thinks--" ... The accusation that I
had come to make seemed impossible, now I was facing her. "I believe," I
added, with the suddenness of inspiration. "I'm certain even, that _he_
thinks that you ..."

"Well, they think that sort of thing. But it is only part of the game.
Oh, I assure you it is no more than that."

I was silent. I felt that, for one reason or another, she wished me to
believe.

"Yes," she said, "I want you to believe. It will save you a good deal of
pain."

"If you wanted to save me pain," I maintained, "you would have done with
de Mersch ... for good." I had an idea that the solution was beyond me.
It was as if the controlling powers were flitting, invisible, just above
my head, just beyond my grasp. There was obviously something vibrating;
some cord, somewhere, stretched very taut and quivering. But I could
think of no better solution than: "You must have done with him." It
seemed obvious, too, that that was impossible, was outside the range of
things that could be done--but I had to do my best. "It's a--it's vile,"
I added, "vile."

"Oh, I know, I know," she said, "for you.... And I'm even sorry. But it
has to be gone on with. De Mersch has to go under in just this way. It
can't be any other."

"Why not?" I asked, because she had paused. I hadn't any desire for
enlightenment.

"It isn't even only Churchill," she said, "not even only that de Mersch
will bring down Churchill with him. It is that he must bring down
everything that Churchill stands for. You know what that is--the sort of
probity, all the old order of things. And the more vile the means used
to destroy de Mersch the more vile the whole affair will seem.
People--the sort of people--have an idea that a decent man cannot be
touched by tortuous intrigues. And the whole thing will be--oh,
malodorous. You understand."

"I don't," I answered, "I don't understand at all."

"Ah, yes, you do," she said, "you understand...." She paused for a long
while, and I was silent. I understood vaguely what she meant; that if
Churchill fell amid the clouds of dust of such a collapse, there would
be an end of belief in probity ... or nearly an end. But I could not see
what it all led up to; where it left us.

"You see," she began again, "I want to make it as little painful to you