should also like to know his
motives in not denouncing the supposed murderer at once, and in keeping
his knowledge hidden all this time."

"With regard to the last part of your remarks, I dare say you would,"
said Gedge. "Only I don't know whether I'll go so far as to oblige you.
Anyhow you may have discovered that I don't particularly care about
your class. I've been preaching against your idleness and vanity and
vices, and the strangling grip you have on the throats of the people,
ever since I was a young man. If one of your lot chose to do in another
of your lot--a common story of seduction and crime--"

At this slur in his daughter's honour Sir Anthony broke out fiercely,
and, for a moment, I feared lest he would throw himself on Gedge and
wring his neck. I managed to check his outburst and bring him to
reason. He resumed his attitude on the hearthrug.

"As I was saying," Gedge continued, rather frightened, "from my
sociological point of view I considered the affair no business of mine.
I speak of it now, because ever since war broke out your class and the
parasitical bourgeoisie have done your best to reduce me to starvation.
I thought it would be pleasant to get a bit of my own back. Just a
little bit," he added, rubbing his hands.

"If you think you've done it, you'll find yourself mistaken."

Gedge shrugged his shoulders and pulled his beard. I hated the light in
his little crafty eyes. I feel sure he had been looking forward for
months to this moment of pure happiness.

"Having given us an insight into your motives, which seem consistent
with what we know of your character," said I, judicially, "will you now
make your statement of facts?"

"What's the good of listening further to his lies?" interrupted Sir
Anthony. "I'm a magistrate. I can give the police at once a warrant for
his arrest."

Again I pacified him. "Let us hear what the man has to say."

Gedge began. He spoke by the book, like one who repeats a statement
carefully prepared.

"It was past ten o'clock on the night of the 25th June, 1914. I had
just finished supper when I was rung up by the landlord of The Three
Feathers on the Farfield road--it's the inn about a quarter of a mile
from the lock gates. He said that the District Secretary of the Red
Democratic Federation was staying there--his brother-in-law, if you
want to know--and he hadn't received my report. I must explain that I
am the local secretary, and as there was to be an import