"Wait a minute," said Vanbrugh, interposing. "Have you seen this interview?" He took the paper from Greene and gave it to Brett, who read rapidly while the others looked on, talking in undertones. "Damn!" he exclaimed, turning to the others. "Have you all been reading this stuff? I hope you do not believe that is what I said? A man came to the house after luncheon. You fellows had just gone and I was going. Mrs. Darche did not want to see him, but I advised her to let me tell him what ought to be said about this affair. He tried to pump me about the charity tableaux and then asked me about Darche. I told him that it was all an absurd fabrication, and he promised to say so and to deny all reports. And this is the result." "Of course it is," said Greene. "The natural result of putting yourself into any reporter's hands." "I would like to say a word for the reporter," said Mr. Brown mildly. "The paper is not his. He does not edit it. He does not get a share of the profits, and when he interviews people he merely is doing what he has undertaken to do. He is earning his living." "Marriage and death and reporters make barren our lives," observed Greene sourly, and some of the men laughed. "I say, Brett, how much of this did you actually say?" asked Vanbrugh. "Not a word, it seems to me. And yet I see some of my own phrases worked in." He picked up the paper and looked at it again. "Yes, I did say that it was a warm May night. I did say that his body was never found. Yes, that is true enough. How the deuce does the fellow manage to twist it so?" "Does it not strike you that the reporter has only shown you your own account in the light in which other people will look at it?" inquired Mr. Brown, sententiously. "Oh, confound it all, Brown, how can you say such a thing?" exclaimed Brett.