He put down his pipe and stared at her, and I think we were all slightly relieved that he didn't go off immediately into acute hysterics. He just said--almost quizzically: "But really--to tell me _this_! What grounds can you possibly have for saying such things?" "You needn't ask me," she retorted. "Ask June--she's had access to all your papers. It was her discovery in the beginning." He turned to June, wordless; and June smiled at him. "Don't get alarmed, Terry," she said quietly. "It's true what mother says, though I wouldn't have bothered you about it if I'd been her. I _do_ think Karelsky's stolen your work. I don't see how anybody could help thinking so who'd gone through it all in detail as I have.... There's not much doubt about it, Terry--you've been done ... but never mind--it doesn't really matter...." And then, to our complete astonishment, he replied, taking up his pipe again: "I daresay you're right. But, as you say, it doesn't really matter, does it?" III I felt sorry for Helen then. We were all bewildered, but for her alone bewilderment was defeat. And Terry hardly noticing her, smoked his pipe, as if embarrassed rather than upset by the turn that events had taken. It was Severn who took up the cross-examination, but did it so calmly and sympathetically that even Terry's embarrassment was soon dispelled. Apparently he had had an idea that Karelsky "might have stolen" his work. He hadn't troubled much about it because what really mattered to him most of all was the revelation that his work was sound. "Sound enough to be stolen?" interposed Severn, and Terry replied smilingly: "Yes, if you like. Only really, you know, you can't steal _work_, can you? It's just _done_, and it doesn't very much matter who does it." "It's easy enough to steal credit," said Severn. "Credit? Yes, but who wants that? I should hate all this newspaper puffing--it would worry me. It's just as well Karelsky's saved me from it. If he'd asked me I'd have given him full permission to do all he has done.... And besides, do I deserve credit? I'd done all that work, and yet I hadn't enough confidence in it or myself to make it public. The world owes something to Karelsky." "And you may be sure Karelsky will collect the debt in full," replied Severn. Then June said laughingly: "Do you know, Terry, father had a wonderful idea that you should bring an action against Karelsky for theft or plagiarism, or whatever it is, and that he--father, I mean--would take up your case in court? It would have been rather fine, wouldn't it?" "So fine," interposed Severn, "that the very ushers would have wept at my eloquence."