Shining Light" Chapel. He'd
been abroad for 'is 'ollerdays--to Monte Carlo. It seems 'e was ill
before 'e went away, but the change did 'im a lot of good; in fact, 'e
was quite recovered, and 'e was coming back again. But while 'e was
standin' on the platform at Monte Carlo Station waitin' for the train,
a porter runned into 'im with a barrer load o' luggage, and 'e blowed
up.'

'Blowed up?'

'Yes,' repeated Philpot. 'Blowed up! Busted! Exploded! All into
pieces. But they swep' 'em all up and put it in a corfin and it's to
be planted this afternoon.'

Harlow maintained an awestruck silence, and Philpot continued:

'I had a drink the other night with a butcher bloke what used to serve
this parson with meat, and we was talkin' about what a strange sort of
death it was, but 'e said 'e wasn't at all surprised to 'ear of it; the
only thing as 'e wondered at was that the man didn't blow up long ago,
considerin' the amount of grub as 'e used to make away with. He ses
the quantities of stuff as 'e's took there and seen other tradesmen
take was something chronic. Tons of it!'

'What was the parson's name?' asked Harlow.

'Belcher. You must 'ave noticed 'im about the town. A very fat chap,'
replied Philpot. 'I'm sorry you wasn't 'ere on Saturday to see the
corfin plate. Frank called me in to see the wordin' when 'e'd finished
it. It had on: "Jonydab Belcher. Born January 1st, 1849. Ascended,
December 8th, 19--"'

'Oh, I know the bloke now!' cried Harlow. 'I remember my youngsters
bringin' 'ome a subscription list what they'd got up at the Sunday
School to send 'im away for a 'ollerday because 'e was ill, and I gave
'em a penny each to put on their cards because I didn't want 'em to
feel mean before the other young 'uns.'

'Yes, it's the same party. Two or three young 'uns asked me to give
'em something to put on at the time. And I see they've got another
subscription list on now. I met one of Newman's children yesterday and
she showed it to me. It's for an entertainment and a Christmas Tree
for all the children what goes to the Sunday School, so I didn't mind
giving just a trifle for anything like that.'...

'Seems to be gettin' colder, don't it?'

'It's enough to freeze the ears orf a brass monkey!' remarked Easton as
he descended from a ladder close by and, placing his pot of paint on
the pound, began to try to warm his hands by rubbing and beating them
together.

He was trembling, and his tee