Put all your, energy into that and you will win from the world of the spirit a grace which you cannot now even dream of. For there is grace, Jessica, there are principalities and powers, there is unknown good which flies magnetically toward the good we know. And suppose that you had found what you were looking for, my dear child? Would you not have been led on from jealousy through deceit into cruelty? Human frailty forms a system, Jessica, and faults in the past have their endlessly spreading network of results. We are not good people, Jessica, and we shall always be involved in that great network, you and I. All we can do is constantly to notice when we begin to act badly, to check ourselves, to go back, to coax our weakness and inspire our strength, to call upon the names of virtues of which we know perhaps only the names. We are not good people, and the best we can hope for is to be gentle, to forgive each other and to forgive the past, to be forgiven our= selves and to accept this forgiveness, and to return again to the beautiful unexpected strangeness of the world. Isn't it, Jessica, my child?'After a long pause Jessica said, 'Who are you?''My dear,' he murmured. 'You learn fast. Forgive me.''Good heavens,' said Jessica.Willy had kissed her.They were half facing each other now, with their knees braced together. Willy was holding her firmly by the wrist, while his other hand had strayed round her neck and was playing with her hair. Jessica had gripped the lapel of his jacket.They stared hard at each other.'You are very beautiful, Jessica, and you remind me – you remind me of what I have seen in dreams, embraced in dreams.Forgive me for touching you. Really wanting to touch and to hold somebody, this is so important, isn't it? This is how we poor clay objects communicate, by looking thus, by touching thus. There should be few that you touch, and those the dearest ones.''Please tell me who you are,' she said. 'You are so strange.What is your second name?''No, no. Let us just be Willy and Jessica. We shall not meet again.''You can't say that when you've just kissed me. You can't kiss me and vanish. I shall ask John – ''If you ask John about me I shall tell him that you searched his room.''Oh! And you were saying that we should be gentle!''I am being gentle, my child. I am a murmuring voice, a little bird on a tree, the voice of your conscience perhaps. And if there is anything else it is just a little nameless imp, or an imp called Willy maybe, who is quite momentary and has no real self at all. If I do you any little hurt may it simply make you toss your head and return again to the beautiful strange wide unpredictable world.''But I must see more of you – you must help me – you could help me.''Anybody could help you, Jessica, if you wanted to helped. For now it is just you and me upon an island, a dream island of the unexpected, to be remembered like a dream, all atmosphere and feeling and nothing in detail. Oh, but you are beautiful. May I kiss you again?'Jessica slid her arms strongly round him and closed her eyes.She was roused by a sound which was Willy kicking off his shoes. She kicked off hers. With lips still joined they keeled over slowly into the unmade bed.Some time later as they lay heart to heart Jessica said softly, not anxiously, but curiously, 'What are we doing, Willy, what is this?''This is sacrilege, my Jessica. A very important human activity.'Twenty-four bounder would live in a place like this, he said to himself, as he turned into Smith Street and began to pass along the line of smartly painted hall doors.He was feeling far from jocular however. He had thought of Biranne as a man in a trap. But could the trap be sprung? Biranne was a strong man and not a fool. However much Ducane attempted to surprise him or even to bluff him he was unlikely to break down and confess or by any inadvertence to give himself way. There was nothing which Ducane knew for which some innocent explanation could not be garbled up. And if, with a cold eye, Biranne produced and stuck to these explanations what could Ducane do but apologize and retire, and if he apologized and retired what on earth could he do next?When Ducane reflected upon how little, in fact, he did know he was amazed at the strength of his certainty that Biranne was guilty, at least of something. Could this not be utterly mistaken?Tonight was a gamble, he told himself. But perhaps it was time for a gamble, since more prudent methods had produced mere intuitions, ranging from suspicion of murder to conjecture of total innocence.It was now nearly nine o'clock in the evening, and the dense dusty air, heavy with its heat, hung over London like a halfdeflated balloon, stuffy and sagging. The yellow sunlight was tired and the shadows were without refreshment. Only at the far end of the street could be seen the blurred dark green of trees which hinted at the river. Ducane, too agitated to wait at his own house, had come from Earls Court on foot. He had taken an early supper with Willy, who appeared to be in a curious state of euphoria. After supper Willy had switched on the wireless and Ducane had left him dancing round the drawing-room to the sound of Mozart's piano concerto in minor. Ducane, who was relying on surprising Biranne, had dialled his telephone number from Earls Court, silently replacing the receiver as soon as the familiar high-pitched voice answered the 'phone.As Ducane came near to the house he was almost choking with anxiety and excitement, and had to stop several times to get his breath from the thick air, which now seemed devoid of oxygen. He stopped finally a few paces away, shook himself or perhaps shuddered, straightened his back and walked briskly to the door. It was open.Ducane stood frozen upon the step, his hand half raised toward the bell. He lowered his hand. To his wrought-up nerves any unusual thing, even of the simplest, had an air of sinister significance. Was he after all expected? Had Biranne understood the meaning of the telephone call? Had Biranne seen him coming?Ducane stood and pondered. He decided that the open door was a matter of chance. Then he decided that he would not ring the bell. He would just walk in.As he stepped cautiously on to the thick yellow hall carpet, however, he felt more of the sentiment of the hunted than of the hunter. He looked about quickly, guiltily, half turned to retreat, paused, listened. The silence of the unfamiliar house composed menacingly about him. He became aware, buried in it, of a ticking clock, then of his own heart beating. He stood still, his eyes moving, seeing in the goldenish evening penumbra a marquetry table, an oval mirror, a recession of glittering stair-rods of lacquered brass. An open doorway, some distance straight ahead revealed, brighter, what appeared to be a billiard room. Attempting to breathe normally and not to tiptoe Ducane opened the door upon his right. The front room, evidently the dining-room. Empty. A great many bottles on a Sheraton sideboard. He moved back, breath held in, and reached for the next door. He pushed it open. The room was darkened by venetian blinds upon which the sun fell slanting, dazzling a little along the long hairlike slits of the almost closed blinds. Ducane blinked into the semi-darkness of the room.Then, on the far side, he saw a standing figure. A remarkable figure, the figure of Judy McGrath.'Hello, Mr Honeyman. Didn't I tell you that we'd meet again?'What was remarkable about Judy McGrath this time was . that she had no clothes on.Ducane came slowly on into the room and closed the door behind him. Collecting himself he looked about with deliberation.There was no one else present. 'Good evening, Mrs McGrath.''You must excuse my deshabille. It's so hot this evening, isn't it.''Exceptionally hot and stuffy,' said Ducane. He sat down in an armchair and stared at Judy. He said softly, 'Helen of Troy'.'I knew you'd find me out, Mr Honeyman, you're so clever.Have a cigarette? Or one of Richard's cigars? T 'No thanks.' Ducane felt, this is a moment outside my ordinary life, a moment given by a god, not perhaps by a great god, and not by a good one, but by a god certainly. It had never fallen to his lot to contemplate a naked woman in quite this way before.Judy stood in front of him with a slight awkwardness. The human body, even that of a beautiful woman, cannot easily stand in complete repose. She stood half turned away from him, one knee bent, one shoulder hunched, her chin jutting as if to see him she had to peer over something. Her body lacked the authority of its beauty and wore a little shame, the shame of what is usually hidden from the air and which greets it a little self-consciously. However used Mrs McGrath was in her spirit to taking her clothes off, her body was yet a trifle less forward.Half consciously Ducane noted this and it touched him. The sunlight dazzled in streaks along the shutters and filled the room with a thick powdery half-light, a warm golden-brown air, in the midst of which Judy McGrath's body rose up, moved slightly, a pillar of honey with a fleeting lemony radiance. The warm light caressed her, revealed her, blended with her. Her black hair, dusted over with a sheen of brown, seemed a slightly greenish bronze, and the shadow between her large round slightly dependent breasts was a blur of dark russet.Judy's eyes, brooding slits now, were almost closed. She swung her body slightly, revealing the curve of the buttock, outlined in a thin are of fuzzy phosphorescent fire.Ducane breathed deeply and swallowed his breath before it could become a sigh. He said, 'I came here to see Mr Biranne, but you will do just as well.''If you have a use for me, Mr Honeyman, I'm yours.''Why did Radeechy kill himself?''I don't know, Mr Honeyman. Mr Radeechy was a strange man with strange habits, who got strange ideas into his head.''Was it your notion or your husband's to blackmail him?''I have no idea, Mr Honeyman. I'm a woman. Look.'Ducane was looking, but his head was perfectly clear now.He noticed that the huge brown circles in the centre of her breasts were reminding him of Fivey.'Tell me about Radeechy,' said Ducane.'I could love you, Mr Honeyman. You could love me.''I doubt that, Judy. Tell me about Radeechy.''You mean what we did in the vaults at night?''In the vaults – 'said Ducane carefully.'In the vaults of the office.''I see,' said Ducane slowly, thinking as fast as he could. 'Of course. You used to go with Radeechy into the vaults, into the old air-raid shelters underneath the office ''That's right, Mr Honeyman. I thought you knew. I thought you knew everything.''I know practically everything,' said Ducane. 'I just want you to tell me the rest. Why did you go to the vaults?''It was getting to be a bit awkward at his house, you see, with Mrs around, and the neighbours. We used to make quite a lot of noise.''Hmmm,' said Ducane. 'Did Mrs Radeechy know about all this?''Oh yes, it was all ever so honest.''Did she mind?''I don't know,' said Judy. She had begun to oscillate her body in a circular movement, pivoted upon her rather large feet which were gripping the carpet with long clawlike toes., She seemed not to. But I guess she did really.''Was Radeechy anxious because he was distressing his wife?''He was never anxious when he was with me, Mr Honeyman.No man is ever anxious when he is with me.''What did Radeechy want you to do for him,' asked Ducane.'I mean apart from the things that were obvious.''None of Mr Radeechy's things were obvious things, Mr Honeyman.''Well, presumably he made love to you.''Oh no, nothing like that. It was all very spiritualistic, if you see what I mean. Besides, Mr McGrath was there half of the time.''Oh. You took part in rituals, magic?''I never understood it really, I just did what he told me, half of the time I couldn't see what was happening. Some gentlemen have very strange ideas. He was not the first.''What do you mean by spiritualistic?''It was all ideas, all in his head like. There are some like that.He never touched me, not with his hands that is.'The phrase 'not with his hands' produced an effect on Ducane which he took a moment to recognize as extreme physical excitement.He pushed his chair back abruptly and stood up.Judy McGrath immediately, with an electrical jerk, altered her stance, stepping forward towards him and throwing her head back. At the same time she picked up something from the table.Ducane's lowered gaze now sought out, what he had before avoided seeing, the place of the darkest shadow.'Don't go,' she said softly. 'Or else take me with you. What are your things, Mr Honey? Whatever they are I could do them. And there are things I could teach you too.''Put your clothes on,' said Ducane.Something moved in the sulphurous light between them and came to rest upon his wrist, brushing caressingly along the hairs of his arm. It was the pencil-thin tip of a riding whip, the other end of which rested in Judy's hand.Ducane jerked his arm away and moved quickly out of the room. He blundered through the hall and swung the front door wide open and blinked in the sudden brightness of the Twenty-five street. As he began to walk rapidly along the pavement he nearly collided with Biranne, who was carrying a bottle. They looked at each other appalled, and before Ducane pushed past and hurried on he saw Biranne's face transfigured with fear. WOW 'why do animals not have to blow their noses?' asked Edward.No one seemed to know the answer to this question or be prepared to enter into a discussion of it. Mary was cooking rhubarb, Paula was looking through a page of the Aeneid into some private worry of her own, and Ducane was engaged in composing and censoring some very private pictures of Judy McGrath.