my mattress.

After our Pentecostal Service, and our breakfast, we compared
notes, we two alone.

Once more Hunter had talked a lot at table. It was somehow a
little hard completely to identify the Hunter of breakfast time
with the Hunter of cock-crow. 'Our friend was rather angelical,
only rather,' my host said.

'He was cynical about your cynical business,' I said. He laughed.
'Have you forgotten what he said about missionaries?' he asked.

I smiled ruefully. 'It certainly wasn't up to his level,' I said,
'his cock-crow level.'

'I've got a theory,' said my chin-tufted friend (I have made up
my mind to recall Don Quixote in future when I think of him
rather than that mediaeval print). 'The subliminal self of the
Navy was revealed by that Pentecostal flash. Pentecost was in the
air. We saw the real lieutenant in his sleeping sub-consciousness.
It's a pity the real self isn't top-dog in ordinary life; it's under-dog
for the present, worse luck!'

'But in sleep he's a child still, and a good child at that,' I
said.

'Yes, or he couldn't have responded to that Pentecostal
suggestion. You or I wouldn't have responded; anyhow, not so
readily.'

He sighed. 'It's a wicked world,' he said smiling, 'and we learn
many tricks of our respective trades.'

'Speak for yourself and your own trade,' I said sternly. Then I
begged him to give up that unmentionable way of obtaining
intelligence.

'Let's try to live up to the cock-crow level,' I said. 'We two
have seen what we have seen, and heard what we have heard. We
have received unexpected Intelligence. We have got some hints as
to self and soul, truth and falsehood.'

'Yes, I'll allow that,' he admitted.

A CREDIT BALANCE

The siding was on such soil as recalled South Devon; flanking the
name-board there were a few pepper-trees with dry, fern-like
foliage, and bunches of red berries just then, the month being
March. Alfred Home drew up before that name-board in scorching
sunshine, wiped his face, and looked at his watch. Was he in
time?

He had heard nothing of the train yet, and it was not to be seen
approaching. His watch told him that it had been due for ten
minutes now. Surely it could not have gone! No, there it was. Its
whistle sounded, and soon it came winding through the sparse
woodlands. He gave a sigh of relief, and squatted down to wait
for it. Soon it drew up at Pepper-tree Siding.

He climbed on to a third-class carriage, which carried nat