"Undoubtedly, though we should have to be damned certain of every detail beforehand. For instance, how did Karelsky make the theft? Did he get hold of Terry's books and make copies? Or were there duplicates left behind in the Vienna laboratories? ... And also--a rather important matter--what exactly were the relations of Karelsky and Terry in Vienna? Supposing that Karelsky, when the action is tried, should say blandly: 'Oh, yes, it was this man who kept my records and looked after my mice and generally made himself useful. But he was under my supervision, and it is outrageous that he should claim credit for doing things that I expressly told him to do... What should we say to that, eh?" "Surely we could bring witnesses to prove that Terry was an independent research-worker?" "Could we? I doubt it. And, in any case, Karelsky could bring other witnesses to say he wasn't." "The disgracefully low wages that Karelsky paid would show the jury what sort of a man he was." "Not at all. They would show what kind of a man Terry was. Karelsky would say--'These are good wages for a mere laboratory assistant--a man who takes temperatures and cleans test-tubes.'" I said (and regretted it immediately afterwards); "It seems a pity Terry ever had anything to do with Karelsky." He replied instantly: "It is. And, of course, it's my fault in the first place. Fortunately I've no conscience. If I troubled about all the thousands of things in the world that are my fault, I should never have a minute's peace." We talked on until after tea, and he was (or seemed to me) most irritatingly cheerful about it all. There was even a faint undertone of admiration in his voice when he spoke of Karelsky; and my own indignation grew with his calmness. Couldn't something be done, I implored him. Was Terry to stand by helplessly and do nothing at all? He remarked that Karelsky was clever--_damned_ clever. "I daresay he is," I retorted, "and I believe you admire him for that, whether he's a rogue or not!" He laughed then. "I'm afraid it's a shade more subtle than that, Hilton. You see--I like things that make me happy. Being interested makes me happier than anything. And Karelsky interests me.... Therefore--you follow? ... I'm sorry if it seems to you rather callous." "It's Terry I'm thinking about," I replied. "It's terrible to think that there's nothing really that can be done. Surely there's _something_--some law or other----" "Oh, there may be--I certainly don't say there isn't. All I want to make clear is that if he goes into battle against a man like Karelsky he'll have to fortify himself with something more than a few note-books and an immense quantity of moral virtue. Do you think you understand?"