that robbed him of his opportunity.

"Pray don't apologise," he said; "I never noticed that you had gone. I
really quite forgot that you had been there."

Westray was too full of his discovery to take note of the other's
annoyance. He was one of those excitable persons who mistake hurry for
decision of action.

"Yes," he said, "I must be off to London in half an hour. The matter is
far too serious to play fast-and-loose with. It is quite possible that
we shall have to stop the organ, or even to forbid the use of the church
altogether, till we can shore and strut the arch. I must go and put my
things together."

So, with heroic promptness and determination, he flung himself into the
last train, and spent the greater part of the night in stopping at every
wayside station, when his purpose would have been equally served by a
letter or by taking the express at Cullerne Road the next morning.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

The organ was not silenced, nor was the service suspended. Sir George
came down to Cullerne, inspected the arch, and rallied his subordinate
for an anxiety which was considered to be unjustifiable. Yes, the wall
above the arch _had_ moved a little, but not more than was to be
expected from the repairs which were being undertaken with the vaulting.
It was only the old wall coming to its proper bearings--he would have
been surprised, in fact, if no movement had taken place; it was much
safer as it was.

Canon Parkyn was in high good-humour. He rejoiced in seeing the pert
and officious young clerk of the works put in his proper place; and Sir
George had lunched at the Rectory. There was a repetition of the
facetious proposal that Sir George should wait for payment of his fees
until the tower should fall, which acquired fresh point from the
circumstance that all payments were now provided for by Lord Blandamer.
The ha-ha-ing which accompanied this witticism palled at length even
upon the robust Sir George, and he winced under a dig in the ribs, which
an extra glass of port had emboldened the Canon to administer.

"Well, well, Mr Rector," he said, "we cannot put old heads on young
shoulders. Mr Westray was quite justified in referring the matter to
me. It _has_ an ugly look; one needs _experience_ to be able to see
through things like this." And he pulled up his collar, and adjusted
his tie.

Westray was content to accept his Chief's decision as a matter of faith,
though not of conviction. The