sobbing in a way that was terrible to see. The wife stole across the
room, sat down beside him, and laid her hand on his shoulder....

In spite of the intensity of his own anguish, Hodder was conscious of
a curious detachment; and for months afterward particular smells, the
sight of a gasoline stove, a certain popular tune gave him a sharp
twinge of pain. The acid distilling in his soul etched the scene, the
sounds, the odours forever in his memory: a stale hot wind from the
alley rattled the shutter-slats, and blew the door to; the child
stirred; and above the strident, irregular weeping rose main, in
ironical contrast, the piano and the voice across the yard. In that
glimpse he had into the heart of life's terrible mystery he momentarily
understood many things: he knew that behind the abandon of the woman's
song was the same terror which reigned in the room in which he stood....

There were voices in the passageway without, a woman saying in a German
accent,--"It is here, sir."

There was a knock at the door....

CHAPTER XI. THE LOST PARISHIONER

I

Hodder opened the door. In the dingy passageway he perceived a tall
figure which immediately turned out to be that of an old gentleman.
In spite of the heat, he wore a long coat and an old-fashioned, high
collar, a black tie, under which was exposed a triangle of immaculate,
pleated linen. In one hand he held a gold-headed stick, a large tall hat
of which the silk nap was a little rubbed, a string sustaining a parcel,
the brown paper wrapping of which was soaked: in the other, a manila bag
containing lemons.

His head was bent forward a little, the high dome of it was bald,
but the white hair clustered thickly behind the temples. The face was
clean-shaven, the cheeks touched with red, the nose high and dominating,
distinctly philanthropic. And the blue eyes rested on the clergyman with
a benevolence unfeigned.

"Good afternoon, sir," the old gentleman said; "I am told Mrs. Garvin
lives here."

Before the rector could reply Mrs. Garvin herself stood between them.

"It's Mr. Bentley!" she exclaimed.

"I fear I'm intruding, ma'am," he said. "But some of Dicky's little
friends have just informed me that he is ill, and I have taken the
liberty of calling to inquire."

Mr. Bentley entered the room,--simple words to express that which was in
some sort an event. He laid his parcels on the table, his hat and stick
on a chair, and stood looking down in silen