“Oh, it seemed to me to disregard human probabilities. And, as I told you the other day, I trust human probabilities more than I trust circumstantial evidence. I didn’t believe, for example, that the same man could be a Catholic from Saturday to Monday and an atheist for the rest of the week.” “But Carmichael explained that. Surely it’s reasonable that a Roman Catholic should want to sweep away what he regards as inadequate theologies?” “No, it’s just what he wouldn’t do. I used to know a good many Catholics at one time, and I know a certain amount about their point of view. And they couldn’t act in the way Carmichael described, because it would be doing evil in order that good might come of it. And Catholic theology, you see, doesn’t allow that.” “I only gave that as a possible explanation,” objected Carmichael. “There are plenty of other possible explanations.” “I know. But what’s the good of any number of possible explanations when no single explanation is probable? I never can understand the kind of madness that imagines it has solved a difficulty when it has found a whole number of possible explanations that aren’t probable. What difference does the number of them make? As a matter of fact, in this case there’s only one—that Brotherhood really was an atheist, but posed as a Catholic when he was Davenant merely to put people off the scent. But can’t you see how monstrous that is? Instead of taking the trouble to go over to Paston bridge every Sunday, he might have gained a far bigger local reputation for piety by sitting under Marryatt once in three weeks.” “Well, what other human probabilities are there?” “Next to changing one’s religion every Saturday to Monday, the most impossible thing in the world would be to change one’s game of golf every Saturday to Monday. Theoretically it sounds all right; in practice I don’t believe in it. I can’t think how you did either, Carmichael, because golf is a thing of which you _have_ some experience.” “Well, why didn’t you communicate these doubts to us before?” “You were talking too hard. But I can produce my diary to show you what I did think about your suggestion.” And Gordon disappeared, to return after a few minutes with a formidable volume over which he spent an unvarying twenty minutes every evening. “Here you are. ‘Thursday—Carmichael has had an inspiration—he thinks Davenant and Brotherhood were the same person, a sort of Jekyll-and-Hyde pair. He overlooks, it seems to me, the obvious phenomena of religion and golf. But of course it is very typical’”—he broke off. “I don’t expect that part would interest you.” “Go on,” said Reeves. “I shouldn’t have thought Carmichael was typical of anything. What’s it all about?”