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S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S 3 7 I love you that I can see your point of view in this business." "And you're not going to side with the others?" "When you're in question," he said, "there are no others. If you'd done in old Wellington or even poisoned the Yeoman, I should still stand by you. If you'd killed George, not out of your beautiful womanly pity, but in sheer lust for his life, I should back you up." In the face of such perfect loyalty, deception was no longer possible to Arethusa. "But Basil," she whispered, "that's just what I did do." "What?" he inquired. "Why, kill him in sheer lust for his life. When I got him on the bank I instantly forgot everything and whanged him on the head. I was so frightfully excited, Basil. And all that stuff I gave you just now about putting George out of his misery was simply a lot of tosh that I made up in my own defense." His face became suddenly illuminated with a great joy and he started to his feet. "The Lord be praised!" he exclaimed. "I though you'd begun to be human." He clasper her to his bosom." "I'll get the car," he said after a time, "and we'll take George in to Taxistock to be set up for the hotel. He'll look superb in the lounge." "Yes, Basil," she murmured obediently. Note: William Caine was best known in the fishing world for his 1911 book, An Angler at Large. "The Four-Pounder" appeared in What a Scream (London: Phillip Allan & Co., 1927), a collection of short stories. They left the lounge together, followed closely by Messrs Rook and Butterworth. Mrs. Jerningham rose and went upstairs. Arethusa caught the eye of her mother who rose and followed Mrs. Jerningham. Arethusa turned to Basil where he sat huddled up in his chair sucking hastily at a cold pipe. "Well," she asked defiantly, "aren't you going to withdraw yourself from the neighborhood of the pariah, too?" "No," Basil said slowly, "I'm not, and I want to tell you, Arethusa, that I admire you tremendously for the way you gave it to us about poor old George. You're perfectly right. We've been guilty of shocking cruelty to the poor fish, and I'm glad to think that there won't be any more of that rotten work. "But I must confess that I'd never hitherto looked upon it in that light. Hitherto, whenever anybody has expressed sympathy for George—as you did, you'll remember, the first night here—I've always made a joke of it, and sworn that George liked nothing better than to be caught. But now—well, I can only tell you that I'm wiser now. I see clearly that we've been no better than, as you say, badger-baiters." He relit his pipe. "And," he concluded steadily, "I propose to tell those others what I think." "Basil," she cried, finding at last her tongue. "You're not serious about this? You don't mean it?" He looked up at her. He seemed surprised. "Well, of course I do. Why not?" "Oh Basil," she cried, "I really do now believe you love me." "Of course I love you," he informed her. "Why not? It's because