y; but he knew that he would not sleep until the
mail-cart had gone.

His wife was sleeping peacefully. He could feel the warmth of her body
close against him; her breath, drawn so lightly and regularly, just
touched his face; and he edged away cautiously, seeking space in which
to turn without disturbing her. At immeasurably long periods the
church clock chimed the quarters. That last chime must have been the
quarter after eleven.

Every now and then there came a sound that told him of the things that
were happening on the ground floor; and in the intervals of silence he
began to suffer from an oppressive sense of unreality. This disruption
of the routine of life was so strange as to seem incredible. They were
making up the two big bags for the up mail and the down mail; and he
was lying here like a state prisoner, of no account for the time
being, while below him his realm remained actively working.

As midnight approached, an increasing anxiety possessed him. The horse
and cart had been standing under the window for what appeared to be
hours, and yet they would not bring out the bags. What in the name of
reason were they waiting for now? Then at last he detected the
movement of shuffling footsteps; he heard voices--Ridgett's voice
among the others; a wheel grated against the curbstone, and the cart
rolled away. The sounds of the church clock chiming twelve mingled
with the reverberations made by the horse's hoofs as the cart passed
between the garden walls. Thank goodness, anyhow, they had got it off
to its time.

With a sigh, he turned on his back and stared at the darkness that hid
the ceiling. Ah! A profuse perspiration had broken out on his neck and
chest. To give himself more air he pulled down the too generous supply
of bed clothes, and in imagination he followed the cart.

It was progressing slowly and steadily along the five miles of road to
the railway junction. Would Perkins, the driver, break the regulations
to-night and pick up somebody for a ride with the sacred bags? Such a
gross breach of duty would render Perkins, or his employer, liable to
a heavy penalty; and again and again Dale had reminded him of the
risks attending misbehavior. But unwatched men grow bold. This would
be a night to bring temptation in the way of Perkins. Some
villager--workman, field-laborer, wood-cutter--tramping the road would
perhaps ask for a lift. "What cheer, mate! I'm for the night-mail.
Give us a lift's far as junct