und it all, Rogers--"

"Oh, you know them." Mr. Rogers, with his foot planted over the
threshold, airily waved us forward out of the darkness. "Mr. Doidge,
your Rector," he announced; "also Mr. Revel--a recent acquaintance of
yours, as I understand."

"Good evening, Whitmore," said the Rector stepping forward. "I owe
you an apology (I sincerely hope) for the circumstances of this
visit, as I certainly discommend Mr. Rogers's method of introducing
us."

Now, as we two stepped forward, Mr. Whitmore had instantly shot out
his right hand to the door--against which Mr. Rogers, however, had
planted his foot--with a gesture as if to slam it in our faces.
But the sombre apparition of the Rector seemed to freeze him where he
stood--or all of him but his left hand which, grasping the
candlestick, slowly and as if involuntarily lifted it above the level
of his eyes. Then, before the Rector had concluded, he lowered it,
turned, and walked hastily before us down the passage.

Still without speaking he passed through a door on his right, and we
followed him into a sparely furnished room lined with empty
book-shelves. A few books lay scattered on the centre table where
also, within the shaded light of a reading lamp, stood a tray with a
decanter and a couple of glasses. Beside this lamp he set down the
candle and faced us. In those few paces down the passage I had
observed that he wore riding-boots and spurs, and that they were
spotlessly bright and clean. But from this moment I had eyes only
for his face, which was ashen white and the more horrible because he
was essaying a painful smile.

"My dear Rector," he began, "this is indeed a--a surprise. You said
nothing of any such intention when I had the honour to call on you in
Plymouth, two days ago."

"Good reason for why," interrupted Mr. Rogers. "Look here,
Whitmore--with the Rector's leave we'll get this over. Do you know
this coin?"

He held forward a guinea under the lamp.

I could see the unhappy man pick up his courage to fix his gaze on
the coin and hold it fixed.

"I don't understand you, Rogers," he answered. "I have, of course,
no knowledge of that coin or what it means. To me it looks like an
ordinary guinea."

"I had it from you last night, Whitmore: and it is not an ordinary
guinea, but a marked one. What's more, I marked it myself--see, with
this small cross behind the king's head. What's more I sold it, so
marked, to Rodriguez, the Jew."