I drew myself up to a right angle with my lap. “But, Mr. Stool,” I said, “surely you must realize the enormous magnitude of your escape?” “Escape?” he said. “Escape from what?” “Why, from the wickedness,” I replied, “that I have been the means of revealing to you in the bottomless depths of Miss Moonbeam’s heart.” He blew away the hair from before his lips. “But I shouldn’t have been marrying her wickedness,” he said. “I should have been marrying herself.” “Herself?” I cried. “But you don’t mean to tell me that you were attached to her as a female?” “Yes, I do,” he said. “Intensely. I was intensely attached to her as a female.” “But then, if you had married her,” I said, “it wouldn’t have been a sacrifice.” “How do you know?” he said. “How do you know it wouldn’t?” “Why, because you’d have liked it,” I said. “You’d have liked marrying her.” “Well, of course,” he replied. “And some people like sacrificing.” “But, my dear Mr. Stool,” I began, “now that her wickedness has been revealed to you——” “I don’t care a damn,” he said, “about her wickedness.” Had I been stronger, I should have leapt to my feet. “You don’t care a what?” I asked. “A damn,” he said. “A damn?” I cried. “Yes, a damn,” he repeated. I leaned back, closing my eyes. “Yes, and I’ve said worse things.” I opened them again. “I’ve said bally and hell and blow.” He paused for a moment. “And I’ve said blast. That’s the sort of man, Mr. Carp, that you’ve turned me into.” “But, my dear Mr. Stool,” I said, “as your future brother-in-law——” “Yes. But I’m not at all sure,” he said, “that you will be.” Had I been erect, I should certainly have fallen. And indeed, as it was, I barely retained consciousness. “But, Ezekiel,” I cried, “Mr. Stool, surely you haven’t forgotten your word of honour.” “No, I haven’t,” he said. “I haven’t. But then you were a man without moral stain.” “And am I not now?” I asked. “Am I not now, Mr. Stool? Is the victim soiled by the criminal’s guilt? Is the pioneer, drawn from the morass, responsible for his temporary discoloration?” He was silent for a moment, but in so far as it was visible, his expression was far from reassuring. Then he rang the bell, and Tact entered the room. She was the less attractive of the two twins. “That’s the one,” he said. “I made them draw lots. But you can only marry her on one condition—that you sign an agreement to live north of the Thames and make a home for her four sisters.” He tilted his chin a little and put his hands in his pockets. A distant dog barked three times. With a supreme effort I clung to my senses. “Do you mean all,” I whispered, “including Faith?” Faith was the least attractive of the three triplets. “All or none,” he said. He pulled out his watch. I could hear it ticking. “Why did you do that?” I asked. “I’m giving you a minute,” he said, “in which to decide.” Faint though I was, I staggered to my feet. “Then as a Xtian,” I said, “no less than a gentleman——”