She sat and listened quietly as I outlined the latest developments.
"So you see," I concluded, "I _can't_ tell anyone. They'd have me locked up for keeps."
She nodded. "Yeah," she agreed. "I can see that.... Maybe your wife--"
"I couldn't tell _her_," I contradicted. "It would be too damn cruel just now when she's really happy."
Arthurjean sat and thought for a while. "Yep," she remarked, as though she had just concluded a long argument. "You're right. You can't tell nobody _that_. How about this nosey A. J. Harcourt? Won't he find out? He's still having you tailed."
"I don't see how he could," I told her, "unless that Madame la Lune is a complete phoney--which doesn't make sense. She and I were alone in the room. If it was a plant, there's nothing to tell. If she's on the level she won't remember what went on."
"That's no plant," Arthurjean Briggs announced. "It wouldn't make sense for the F.B.I. to pull it. Harcourt sent you there in the first place but he wouldn't put her up to a trick like that."
"He'll be hot on my trail then," I said. "All those clergymen I saw will have to be checked--when all the time--"
"Do you know what I'd do if I was you," she said abruptly. "I'd get rid of that damn dog--but fast."
"I mean kill it. It isn't natural, acting that way. It's been worrying you nigh crazy, that's what it's been doing. You just take it to the vet's and have it chloroformed. They do it all the time on account of the rabbis--"
"That's right, but they do it, don't they? You don't have to get permission. He's your property. You can tell the vet he bit you--"
I started up. "Hell!" I exclaimed. "I've got to get him away from the kennels fast. It's--it's--"
Arthurjean put her large, strong hand on my shoulder.
"There, honey," she soothed me. "It's all right. It's going to be all right."
I looked at her and realized that she hadn't believed a word of my story.
"See here--" I began, when the door-bell rang.
"I hope so," said Arthurjean coloring faintly.
"Well, what's all this about?" I demanded, as a slow blush gathered in sunset fury upon her pleasant face. "Why, Arthurjean--"
"Lay off," she begged. "He's a nice guy and he hasn't got that family in Brooklyn he kept talking about. You and me are washed up--and--well, he's from the South, too, and he talks my language."