“Plenty of motive for murder there.”
“Plenty of motive, certainly. But motive by itself is nothing. Good heavens, man, if everybody committed murder because they had a motive, precious few of us would die natural deaths.”
“But you will admit that murder was being urged upon him in various ways, in all these letters.”
“I wouldn’t necessarily go so far as to admit that. Mrs. Harrison is an emotional, imaginative woman. She picks up phrases out of books. Plenty of people talk in this vague way about love—about its being supreme, and justifying itself, and sweeping obstacles aside and so on, without ever intending to put their words into action. I’ve written that kind of thing myself—in books.”
“Very likely. As a modern novelist you need not be expected to uphold a high standard of morals. But in practice, I take it, you would not wish to excuse or justify murder.”
“No. I confess to an old-fashioned prejudice against murder. It may be inconsistent of me, but I do. And so, I am sure, would Lathom.”
“Lathom is obviously very much under the influence of Margaret Harrison.”
“I should have said it was the other way round.”
“In some things. In theory, no doubt. But when it comes to doing things, I should say she was infinitely more practical—and more unscrupulous. But say, if you like, he is only under the influence of a strong passion—don’t you think that might lead him to do things which conflicted with his principles, or prejudices, or whatever you like to call them? Come now, you have called me a man of the world. Murders are done every day, for much less motive than Lathom had.”