Arthur & George

No, Willie is a fine fellow, who will back him without question. Willie has a good, sharp brain, and is a very decent wicketkeeper. He may dislike golf, but at least gives the best reason Arthur has yet heard for such a prejudice: 'I consider it unsportsmanlike to hit a sitting ball.' That was good. And the one about the sprinter's error. And the one Arthur has spread most widely, which is Willie's assessment of his brother-in-law's consulting detective: 'Though he might be more humble, there is no police like Holmes.' No police like Holmes! Arthur throws himself back against the seat at the memory of the line.

The next morning, as he is preparing to leave for Lord's, a telegram is delivered. Constance Hornung must excuse herself from their lunch engagement today because she has a toothache and is obliged to go to the dentist.

He sends a note to Jean, his apologies to Lord's – 'urgent family business' for once is no euphemism – and takes a cab to Pitt Street. They will be expecting him. They know he is not the man for intrigue or diplomatic silence. You look a fellow in the eye, you speak the truth, and you take the consequences: such is the Doyle creed. Women are allowed different rules, of course – or rather, women seem to have developed different rules for themselves regardless; but even so, he does not think much of emergency dental treatment as an excuse. Its very transparency gets Arthur's dander up. Perhaps she knows this; perhaps it is designed as the plainest rebuke, like that turned-away head of hers. Connie, to her credit, does not palter any more than he does.

He knows he must keep his temper. What matters is first of all Jean, and then the unity of the family. He wonders if Connie has changed Hornung's mind, or Hornung Connie's. 'I'm prepared to back your dealings with any woman at sight and without question.' Nothing equivocal there. But neither had there been about Connie's apparent understanding of his situation. In advance, he searches for reasons. Perhaps Connie has become a respectable married woman rather more quickly than he would have thought possible; perhaps she has always been jealous that Lottie is his favourite sister. As for Hornung: doubtless he is envious of his brother-in-law's fame; or maybe the success of Raffles has gone to his head. Something has sparked this sudden display of independence and rebellion. Well, Arthur will soon find out.

'Connie is upstairs, resting,' says Hornung as he opens the door. Plain enough. So it will be man to man, which is how Arthur prefers it.

Little Willie Hornung is the same height as Arthur, a fact he occasionally forgets. And Hornung in his own house is different from the Hornung of Arthur's furious re-creation; also different from the flattering, eager-to-please Willie who darted across the tennis court at West Norwood and brought bons mots to the table by way of ingratiation. In the front sitting room he indicates a leather armchair, waits for Arthur to be seated, and then remains standing himself. As he speaks, he begins to prance around the room. Nerves, doubtless, but it has the effect of a prosecuting counsel showing off to a non-existent jury.

'Arthur, this is not going to be easy. Connie has told me what you said to her last night, and we have discussed the matter.'

'And you have changed your minds. Or you have changed her mind. Or she yours. Yesterday you said you would back me without question.'

'I know what I said. And it is not a matter of my changing Connie's mind, or her changing mine. We have discussed it, and we are agreed.'

'I congratulate you.'

'Arthur, let me put it this way. Yesterday we spoke to you with our hearts. You know how Connie loves you, how she always has. You know my enormous admiration for you, how proud I am to say that Arthur Conan Doyle is my brother-in-law. That's why we went to Lord's yesterday, to watch you with pride, to support you.'

'Which you have decided no longer to do.'

'But today we are thinking, and speaking, with our heads.'

'And what do your two heads tell you?' Arthur reins his anger back to mere sarcasm. It is the best he can do. He sits four-square in his chair and watches Willie dance and shuffle in front of him, as he dances and shuffles his argument.

'Our heads – our two heads – tell us what our eyes see and our consciences dictate. Your behaviour is… compromising.'

'To whom?'

'To your family. To your wife. To your… lady-friend. To yourself.'

'You do not wish to include the Marylebone Cricket Club as well? And the readers of my books? And the staff of Gamages emporium?'

'Arthur, if you cannot see it, others must point it out to you.'

'Which you seem to be relishing. I thought I had merely acquired a brother-in-law. I did not realize the family had acquired a conscience. I was not aware we needed one. You should get yourself a priest's robe.'

'I do not need a priest's robe to tell me that if you stroll around Lord's with a grin on your face and a woman who is not your wife on your arm, you compromise that wife and your behaviour reflects upon your family.'

'Touie will always be shielded from pain and dishonour. That is my first principle. It will remain so.'

'Who else saw you yesterday apart from us? And what might they conclude?'

'And what did you conclude, you and Constance?'

'That you were extremely reckless. That you did the reputation of the woman on your arm no good. That you compromised your wife. And your family.'

'You are a sudden expert on my family for such a johnny-come-lately.'

'Perhaps because I see more clearly.'

'Perhaps because you have less loyalty. Hornung, I do not pretend the situation is not difficult, damned difficult. There's no denying it. At times it is intolerable. I do not need to rehearse what I said to Connie yesterday. I am doing the best I can, we both are, Jean and I. Our… alliance has been accepted, has been approved by the Mam, by Jean's parents, by Touie's mother, by my brother and sisters. Until yesterday, by you. When have I ever failed in loyalty to any member of my family? And when before have I appealed to them?'

'And if your wife heard of yesterday's behaviour?'

'She will not. She cannot.'

'Arthur. There is always gossip. There is always the tattle of maids and servants. People write anonymous letters. Journalists drop hints in newspapers.'

'Then I shall sue. Or, more likely, I shall knock the fellow down.'

'Which would be a further act of recklessness. Besides, you cannot knock down an anonymous letter.'

'Hornung, this conversation is fruitless. Evidently you grant yourself a higher sense of honour than you do me. If a vacancy occurs as head of the family, I shall consider your application.'

'Quis custodiet, Arthur? Who tells the head of the family he is at fault?'

'Hornung, for the last time. I shall state the matter plainly. I am a man of honour. My name, and the family's name, mean everything to me. Jean Leckie is a woman of the utmost honour, and the utmost virtue. The relationship is platonic. It always will be. I shall remain Touie's husband, and treat her with honour, until the coffin lid closes over one or the other of us.'

Arthur is used to making definitive statements which conclude discussions. He thinks he has made another, but Hornung is still shuffling about like a batsman at the crease.

'It seems to me,' he replies, 'that you attach too much importance to whether these relations are platonic or not. I can't see that it makes much difference. What is the difference?'

Arthur stands up. 'What is the difference?' he bellows. He does not care if his sister is resting, if little Oscar Arthur is taking a nap, if the servant has her ear to the door. 'It's all the difference in the world! It's the difference between innocence and guilt, that's what it is.'

'I disagree, Arthur. There is what you think and what the world thinks. There is what you believe and what the world believes. There is what you know and what the world knows. Honour is not just a matter of internal good feeling, but also of external behaviour.'