was the day of the inquest⁠—the day he had made all those other suggestions about John⁠—quite intentionally⁠—and cleverly, too. That was the secret of it, of course, that was the real foundation of his peace of mind⁠—the way he had managed to entangle John in the affair. He had John hopelessly entangled now.

It was strange how it had worked out. In the beginning he had honestly intended “to do the right thing.” Or he believed he had. From the time, at any rate, that John had become seriously involved, he had really meant to “own up” as soon as Margery was well enough. Probably it would have meant suicide, he remembered⁠—a long time ago it seemed⁠—thinking of that; but he was going to do something . And then the inspiration and the chance had come hand in hand that Sunday morning to show him a better way. It was