it was nearly eight; the Doctor was a long time over
that call--for the first time he began to feel uneasy--he made hurried
mental calculations as to the probability of the Doctor or Chawner being
the first to return.

The walk to church took about twenty minutes; say the service took an
hour, allowing for the return, he might expect Chawner by about
half-past eight; it was striking the hour now--half an hour only in
which he could hope for any favourable result from the interview!

For he saw this plainly, that if Chawner were once permitted to get the
Doctor's ear first and show him that infamous love-note, no explanation
of his (even if he had nerve to make it then, which he doubted) could
possibly seem anything more than a desperate and far-fetched excuse; if
he could anticipate Chawner, on the other hand, and once convince the
Doctor of the truth of his story, the informer's malice would fall flat.

And still the long hand went rapidly on, as Mr. Bultitude sat staring
stupidly at it with a faint sick feeling--it had passed the quarter
now--why did the Doctor delay in this unwarrantable manner? What a farce
social civilities were--if he had allowed himself to be prevailed on to
stay to supper! Twenty minutes past; Chawner and the others might return
at any moment--a ring at the bell; they were there! all was over
now--no, he was saved, that was Dr. Grimstone's voice in the hall--what
an unconscionable time he was taking off his greatcoat and gloves.

But all comes to the man who waits. In another moment the Doctor looked
in, singled out Mr. Bultitude with a sharp glance, and a, "Now,
Bultitude, I will hear you!" and led the way to his study.

Paul staggered rather than walked after him: as usual at the critical
moment his carefully prepared opening had deserted him--his head felt
heavy and crowded--he wanted to run away, but forced himself to overcome
such a suicidal proceeding and follow to the study.

There was a lighted reading-lamp with a green glass shade upon the
table. The Doctor sat down by it in an armchair by the fire, crossed his
legs, and joined the tops of his fingers together. "Now, Bultitude," he
said again.

"Might I--might I sit down?" said poor Mr. Bultitude in a thick voice;
it was all that occurred to him to say.

"Sit by all means," said the Doctor blandly.

So Paul drew a chair opposite the Doctor and sat down. He tried
desperately to clear his head and throat and begin; but the only