cheon, and they all trooped in. Hamel found
himself next to Lady Saxthorpe.

"Dear Mr. Fentolin has been so kind," she confided to him as they took
their places. "I came in fear and trembling to ask for a very small
cheque for my dear brother's diocese. My brother is a colonial bishop,
you know. Can you imagine what Mr. Fentolin has given me?"

Hamel wondered politely. Lady Saxthorpe continued with an air of
triumph.

"A thousand pounds! Just fancy that--a thousand pounds! And some
people say he is so difficult," she went on, dropping her voice. "Mrs.
Hungerford came all the way over from Norwich to beg for the infirmary
there, and he gave her nothing."

"What was his excuse?" Hamel asked.

"I think he told her that it was against his principles to give to
hospitals," Lady Saxthorpe replied. "He thinks that they should be
supported out of the rates."

"Some people have queer ideas of charity," Hamel remarked. "Now I am
afraid that if I had been Mr. Fentolin, I would have given the thousand
pounds willingly to a hospital, but not a penny to a mission."

Mr. Fentolin looked suddenly down the table. He was some distance away,
but his hearing was wonderful.

"Ah, my dear Hamel," he said, "believe me, missions are very wonderful
things. It is only from a very careful study of their results that I
have brought myself to be a considerable supporter of those where I have
some personal knowledge of the organisation. Hospitals, on the other
hand, provide for the poor what they ought to be able to provide for
themselves. The one thing to avoid in the giving away of money is
pauperisation. What do you think, Florence?"

His sister-in-law, who was seated at the other end of the table, looked
across at him with a bright but stereotyped smile.

"I agree with you, of course, Miles. I always agree with you. Mr.
Fentolin has the knack of being right about most things," she continued,
turning to Lord Saxthorpe. "His judgment is really wonderful."

"Wish we could get him to come and sit on the bench sometimes, then,"
Lord Saxthorpe remarked heartily. "Our neighbours in this part of the
world are not overburdened with brains. By-the-by," he went on, "that
reminds me. You haven't got such a thing as a mysterious invalid in the
house, have you?"

There was a moment's rather curious silence. Mr. Fentolin was sitting
like a carved figure, with a glass of wine half raised to his lips.
Gerald had broken off in the middle of a sente