I
Three young men, the best of friends, a painter, Bainbridge Breen, a
writer, Eric Nielsen, and a composer, John Carstairs, were arguing that
three-faced conundrum, morals. Quite an accident had provoked them to
it: a waitress, Erna Vitek. From picking at her they had launched into
axiomizing, only to come back to her. Her morals were the vital topic of
the evening. Carstairs' studio provided the _mise en scène_.
"Well, we've hit a conclusion at last," said Breen with an air of
comfortable finality. "Carstairs calls her moral, I say she's unmoral,
and Nielsen that she may be moral, unmoral or even both."
"Yes!"
"Now, we've all conceded that Erna's not immoral--at least she doesn't
lead a life inconsistent with morality?"
"Yes!"
"Very well then," Breen concluded contentedly. "Now let me make a
proposition."
"What kind of a proposition?" Nielsen quizzed in droll tones and looked
at Carstairs, who was frowning.
"There's very little to it. I can dish it out in a few words. It's
simply this: that we put Erna to the test."
"What do you mean?" was Carstairs' immediate challenge.
"Don't worry!" Breen responded blandly. "I'm not going to injure the
girl."
"Well, what did you mean--"
"Merely this," the painter interrupted quietly. "I don't believe that
any of us know her very well. She's only been working at Landsmann's a
few months. Of course, Carstairs, you've taken her out on one or two
occasions, so you've had an opportunity of studying her at closer
range."
"Not of studying her!"
"You don't study her, certainly. You--er--what would you call it,
Nielsen?"
"Why, John has been burned a little by the divine flame."