As it came to the gate, Chukkers, on his way to his motor, passed it.

"He deserves all he's got," he said. "He's a bad un."

"He's served you pretty well, anyway," answered Jim angrily.

CHAPTER L

The Fat Man Takes His Ticket

In Cuckmere, that quiet village between the Weald and the sea, in which
there was the normal amount of lying, thieving, drunkenness, low-living,
back-biting, and slander, there dwelt two souls who had fought
steadfastly and unobtrusively for twenty years to raise the moral and
material standards of the community.

One was the vicar of the parish, and the other Mrs. Woodburn. The two
worked together for the common end unknown except to each other and
those they helped.

Mr. Haggard was something of a saint and something of a scholar. Mrs.
Woodburn had been born among the people, knew them, their family
histories, and failings; was wise, tolerant, and liberal alike in purse
and judgment. Her practical capacity made a good counterpoise to the
other's benevolence and generous impetuosity.

When the vicar was in trouble about a case, he always went to Mrs.
Woodburn long before he went to the Duke; and he rarely went in vain.

The parlour at Putnam's had seen much intimate communion between these
two high and tranquil spirits over causes that were going ill and souls
reluctant to be saved. The vicar always came to Putnam's: Mrs. Woodburn
never went to the Vicarage. That was partly because the vicar's wife was
a stout and strenuous churchwoman who cherished a genuine horror of
what she called "chapel" as the most insidious and deadly foe of the
spirit, and still more because Mrs. Haggard was a woman, and a jealous
one at that.

* * * * *

It was a few days after the National that the vicar made one of his
calls at Putnam's.

"What is it?" asked Mrs. Woodburn in her direct and simple way after the
first greeting.

She knew he never came except on business.

"It's that wretched fellow Joses," he answered. "He's been in some
scrape at the National, I gather, and got himself knocked about. Somehow
he crawled back to his earth. I rather believe Mr. Silver paid his
train-fare and saw him through."

"Is he dying?" asked Mrs. Woodburn.

The vicar replied that the parish nurse thought he was in a very bad
way.

"Is she seeing to him?"

"She's doing what she can."

"We'd better ask Dr. Pollock to go round and look at him," said Mrs.
Woodburn. "Don