yes fixed on
her husband. On the other side of the fire Bee and young Tharp, whose
chairs seemed very close together, spoke of their horses in low tones,
stealing shy glances at each other. The light was failing, the wood logs
crackled, and now and then over the cosy hum of talk there fell short,
drowsy silences--silences of sheer warmth and comfort, like the silence
of the spaniel John asleep against his master's boot.

"Well," said Gregory softly, "I must go and see this man."

"Is it really necessary, Grig, to see him at all? I mean--if you've made
up your mind----"

Gregory ran his hand through his hair.

"It's only fair, I think!" And crossing the hall, he let himself out so
quietly that no one but Mrs. Pendyce noticed he had gone.

An hour and a half later, near the railway-station, on the road from the
village back to Worsted Skeynes, Mr. Pendyce and his daughter Bee were
returning from their Sunday visit to their old butler, Bigson. The Squire
was talking.

"He's failing, Bee-dear old Bigson's failing. I can't hear what he says,
he mumbles so; and he forgets. Fancy his forgetting that I was at
Oxford. But we don't get servants like him nowadays. That chap we've
got now is a sleepy fellow. Sleepy! he's----What's that in the road?
They've no business to be coming at that pace. Who is it? I can't see."

Down the middle of the dark road a dog cart was approaching at top speed.
Bee seized her father's arm and pulled it vigorously, for Mr. Pendyce was
standing stock-still in disapproval. The dog cart passed within a foot
of him and vanished, swinging round into the station. Mr. Pendyce turned
in his tracks.

"Who was that? Disgraceful! On Sunday, too! The fellow must be drunk;
he nearly ran over my legs. Did you see, Bee, he nearly ran over----"

Bee answered:

"It was Captain Bellew, Father; I saw his face." "Bellew? That drunken
fellow? I shall summons him. Did you see, Bee, he nearly ran over
my----"

"Perhaps he's had bad news," said Bee. "There's the train going out now;
I do hope he caught it!"

"Bad news! Is that an excuse for driving over me? You hope he caught
it? I hope he's thrown himself out. The ruffian! I hope he's killed
himself."

In this strain Mr. Pendyce continued until they reached the church. On
their way up the aisle they passed Gregory Vigil leaning forward with his
elbows on the desk and his hand covering his eyes....

At eleven o'clock that night a m