ir, looking decidedly uneasy. "No, no!" he
said with a frightened manner. "It is nothing. It will keep for a day or
two. There is really no necessity...." He began to stammer and blush,
aware of the eye of Mrs. Peters.

"You promised!" said Tony reproachfully. Then turning to the lady he
said, "Come, Mrs. Peters! You can't say that I lack energy now! Here am
I, thirsting to get work, and old Bangs keeps me back. And only
yesterday he said that nothing on earth should prevent him from at
last--at long last----"

"All right," interrupted Robert, in terror of what Tony would say next.
"Come along! Come along! Where is the telephone, Mr. Peters?"

"In the dining-room," replied the vicar, wondering. "I'll show you the
way."

They went into the house, leaving Mrs. Peters on the lawn, deeply
stirred. "That man _has_ a past," she determined. "He looked simply
terrified. I wonder if I ought to ask Charles.... I wonder if it would
be right to.... And they are strangers ... one never knows...." She
thought sternly for a moment and then got up, resolution in her
countenance. "It's a duty," she murmured--"a positive duty. And Charles
is so weak."

The martyr to duty was going to listen at the door.

CHAPTER XVIII

TONY AT WORK AND AT PLAY

If the telephone had been in the vicar's study Mrs. Peters might have
watched in vain; for to acquire accurate information through a keyhole
needs practise or unusually keen ears. But the vicar wanted perfect
quiet to prepare his sermons, and it was agreed that the instrument
should be placed in the dining-room. This suited Mrs. Peters admirably,
for there was a dumb-waiter between that room and the pantry. Standing
on the other side of the hatch (which she raised with caution a couple
of inches) she could hear all that passed, secure in the reflection that
a screen concealed the hatch and butler's tray. This is what she heard
as soon as the vicar had left the room.

"Mr. Wild, I _told_ you that I would rather not----"

"Duty, Bangs, duty! Remember that! You've allowed your unhappy wife to
mourn----"

"No, no! I thought it better not to write just yet, in case----"

"Pure funk, and nothing else. No, Bangs; you _ought_ to let her
know--you ought to have let her know before this. Besides, there's no
danger: she can't spot where you are."

("Then there is a mystery!" reflected Mrs. Peters, warm with the
satisfaction of a justified eavesdropping. "He has left his wife!")

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