he door, and commanded
everything that went on, as we have said? And then there occurred to
him a desperate scheme, one which spoke much for his readiness and
resource, and on that account alone deserved to succeed. What if he
were to seize the opportunity when the Doctor should descend from his
stall, and, the moment his back was turned, slip in and walk close
behind him all the way to the lectern. Arrived there, the attention of
the Great Panjandrum would be momentarily diverted while turning to
ascend the steps, and he could slip into his seat, which, luckily, stood
there hard by. The chance was a desperate one indeed, but it was his
only one. He would risk it.

Would the chanting never cease? Haviland's heart thumped, and a mist
seemed to come before his gaze. Ah, now for it! The voices were
tailing off into an Amen; the organ stopped with a final snarl, then
silence, only relieved by a rustling sound and that of footsteps on the
stone floor. Now was his time.

The door, fortunately, was not quite closed, and so could be opened
noiselessly. Now it was done, and Haviland was within the chapel, his
rubber-soled shoes making no noise as he stole along, conscious of a
confused sea of faces; and, indeed, that progress seemed to his excited
brain like hours instead of minutes, and the great scarlet hood adorning
the Doctor's back seemed like a huge red-hot furnace before his eyes.

This strange procession had reached the lectern. Haviland felt safe.
He had calculated his move to a nicety, and in a fraction of a second
would have gained his place. But he had reckoned without the consummate
shrewdness, which was the result of long experience, of the headmaster
of Saint Kirwin's.

For the look of surprise, of interest, on the rows of faces on either
side of him as he paced up the aisle had not escaped that potentate, but
he was not going to impair the majestic dignity of his march by turning
then. When he had gained his objective he did just half turn, and in
the momentary compression of the lips and that one look on the Doctor's
face Haviland knew that his fate was sealed. To many there who had
witnessed the episode, and there were few who had not, it seemed that
there was a menacing growl in the sonorous voice rolling out the
splendid old Scriptural English.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Well, Haviland, what have you got to say for yourself?" said Mr
Willia