'That's not very likely to stop people talking.'
He added after a moment, 'But it's got to be stopped somehow…. I went to an awful bazaar this afternoon, on purpose to meet that woman. I met her. I spoke to her. I told her to chuck it. She as good as told me she wasn't going to. I mentioned the libel law—she practically dared Gideon to use it against her. She means to go on. She's poisoning the air with her horrible whispers and slanders. Why can't some one choke her? What can we do about it, that's the question? Ought one of us to tell Gideon? I'm inclined to think we ought.'
'Are you sure he doesn't know it already?'
'No, I'm not sure. Gideon knows most things. But the person concerned is usually the last to hear such talk. And, in case he has no suspicion, I think we should tell him.'
'And get him to issue, through the Fact, a semi-official declaration that "the whole story is a tissue of lies."'
Then I wished I hadn't used that particular phrase. It was an unfortunate one. It suggested a similarity between Lady Pinkerton's story and Mr. Bullitt's, between Arthur Gideon's denial and Lloyd George's.
Jukie's eyes met mine swiftly, not dreamy and introspective as usual, but keen and thoughtful.
'Katherine,' he said, 'we may as well have this out. It won't hurt Gideon here. Is it a lie? I believe so, but, frankly, I don't feel certain. I don't know what to think. Do you?'
I considered it, looking at it all ways. The recent past, Arthur's attitude and Jane's, were all lit up by this horrible flare of light which was turned upon them.
'No,' I said at last. 'I don't know, either…. We can't assume for certain that it is a lie.'