an Lawford ruminatingly, 'there was something curious even
then, perhaps. I remember, for instance, I knelt down to read an old
tombstone. There was a little seat--no back. And an epitaph. The sun was
just setting; some French name. And there was a long jagged crack in
the stone, like the black line you know one sees after lightning, I mean
it's as clear as that even now, in memory. Oh yes, I remember. And then,
I suppose, came the sleep--stupid, sluggish: and then; well, here I am.'

'You are absolutely certain, then,' persisted Mr Bethany almost
querulously, 'there was no living creature near you? Bless me, Lawford,
I see no unkindness in believing what the Bible itself relates. There
are powers supernatural. Saul, and so on. We are all convinced of that.
No one?'

'I remember distinctly,' replied Lawford, in a calm, stubborn voice, 'I
looked up all around me, while I was kneeling there, and there wasn't a
soul to be seen. Because, you see, it even then occurred to me that it
would have looked rather queer--my wandering about like that, I mean.
Facing me there were some cypress-trees, and beyond, a low sunken
fence, and then, just open country. Up above there were the gravestones
toppling down the hill, where I had just strolled down, and sunshine!'
He suddenly threw up his hand. 'Oh, marvellous! streaming in
gold--flaming, like God's own ante-chamber.'

There was a very pregnant pause. Mr Bethany shrunk back a little into
his chair. His lips moved; he folded his spectacles.

'Yes, yes,' he said. And then very quietly he stole one mole-like look
into his sidesman's face.

'What is Dr Simon's number?' he said. Lawford was gazing gloomily
into the fire. 'Oh, Annandale,' he replied absently. 'I don't know the
number.'

'Do you believe in him? Your wife mentioned him. Is he clever?'

'Oh, he's new,' said Lawford; 'old James was our doctor. He--he killed
my father.' He laughed out shamefacedly.

'A sound, lovable man,' said Mr Bethany, 'one of the kindest men I ever
knew; and a very old friend of mine.'

And suddenly the dark face turned with a shudder from the fire, and
spoke in a low trembling voice. 'Only one thing--only one thing--my
sanity, my sanity. If once I forget, who will believe me?' He thrust his
long lean fingers beneath his coat. 'And mad,' he added; 'I would sooner
die.'

Mr Bethany deliberately adjusted his spectacles. 'May I, may I
experiment?' he said boldly. There came a tap on the door.