, but it never occurred to me, as I walked briskly along beside the
Duchess, that I should meet him so far from the house. The church was in
a corner of the park, and the way to it was by a side path that branched
off from the end of the avenue. A little way along, casting its shadow
across the path, was a large oak. It was from behind this tree, when we
came to it, that Braxton sprang suddenly forth and tripped me up with
his foot.

'Absurd to be tripped up by the mere semblance of a foot? But remember,
I was walking quickly, and the whole thing happened in a flash of
time. It was inevitable that I should throw out my hands and come down
headlong--just as though the obstacle had been as real as it looked.
Down I came on palms and knee-caps, and up I scrambled, very much hurt
and shaken and apologetic. "POOR Mr. Maltby! REALLY--!" the Duchess
wailed for me in this latest of my mishaps. Some other lady chased my
straw hat, which had bowled far ahead. Two others helped to brush me.
They were all very kind, with a quaver of mirth in their concern for me.
I looked furtively around for Braxton, but he was gone. The palms of my
hands were abraded with gravel. The Duchess said I must on no account
come to church NOW. I was utterly determined to reach that sanctuary. I
marched firmly on with the Duchess. Come what might on the way, I wasn't
going to be left out here. I was utterly bent on winning at least one
respite.

'Well, I reached the little church without further molestation. To be
there seemed almost too good to be true. The organ, just as we entered,
sounded its first notes. The ladies rustled into the front pew. I,
being the one male of the party, sat at the end of the pew, beside the
Duchess. I couldn't help feeling that my position was a proud one. But I
had gone through too much to take instant pleasure in it, and was beset
by thoughts of what new horror might await me on the way back to
the house. I hoped the Service would not be brief. The swelling and
dwindling strains of the "voluntary" on the small organ were strangely
soothing. I turned to give an almost feudal glance to the simple
villagers in the pews behind, and saw a sight that cowed my soul.

'Braxton was coming up the aisle. He came slowly, casting a tourist's
eye at the stained-glass windows on either side. Walking heavily, yet
with no sound of boots on the pavement, he reached our pew. There,
towering and glowering, he halted, as though demanding tha