s Brabazon at her
word, and the MS. was no more. Its destruction was really demanded by
the inexplicable fact that the story was the true story of a
discreditable case in which the infamous Lord Mulcaster had actually
figured; and the further fact that Miss Brabazon had nevertheless
invented it, so far as she personally was aware, would have constituted
another and still more interesting case for the Psychical Research
Society, but for the aforesaid objections to its publication in any
shape or form.

All this made a document difficult to draw up, and none too convincing
when drawn; but that was partly because the collaborators were already
divided over every feature of the extraordinary affair, which indeed
afforded food for argument for many a day to come. But in the meantime
our dear Miss Julia accepted sentence and execution with a gentle and
even a jocose resignation which made us both miserable. We did not even
know that there had been any real occasion for the holocaust for which
we claimed responsibility, or to what extent or lengths the unconscious
plagiarism had proceeded. Delavoye, of course, took the view that
coincided with his precious theory, whereas I argued from Mr. Brabazon's
coolness that we had heard the worst.

But the Vicar always was cool out of the pulpit; and it was almost a
pity that we rewarded his moderation by going to church the next Sunday,
for I never shall forget his ferocious sermon on the modern purveyor of
pernicious literature. He might have been raving from bitter experience,
as Delavoye of course declared he was. But there is one redeeming point
in my recollection of his tirade. And that is a vivid and consoling
vision of the elder Miss Brabazon, listening with a rapt and unconscious
serenity to every burning word.

CHAPTER V

The Angel of Life

Coplestone was the first of our tenants who had taken his house through
me, and I was extremely proud of him. It was precisely the pride of the
mighty hunter in his first kill; for Coplestone was big game in his way,
and even of a leonine countenance, with his crested wave of tawny hair
and his clear sunburnt skin. In early life, as an incomparable oar, he
had made a name which still had a way of creeping into the sporting
papers; and at forty the same fine figure and untarnished face were a
walking advertisement of virtue. But now he had also the grim eyes and
stubborn jaw of the man who has faced big trouble; he wore sombre