rag before the name. It is a
challenge out of time and space, and at sound of it the big fellow drew
up tense like a battler in a ring.

"Halvers," stated the newcomer without preamble or apology. "I'll take
halvers, if you please, Captain Wetherbee."

He revealed himself as a long, weedy frame in limp linen. Both hands
were jammed into his side pockets with a singular effect--against a
hypothetical chill, one would have thought. Without his stoop he might
have been as tall as Wetherbee, but he had shrunken like the sleeves
tucked above his bony wrists. He had an air at once fearful and
implacable--the doubly dangerous menace of a timid man ready to strike.

Wetherbee was aware of it, though incredulous.

"You spoke?" he inquired, from a lengthened jaw.

"I said--halvers," affirmed this extraordinary apparition. There was no
mistaking the peculiar flavor in his husky voice--no mistaking, either,
that at present its owner was deadly cold sober. "Don't move, captain.
I've got you covered from here.... And this time I'm not afraid to
shoot!"

Wetherbee continued aware of it.

"Just my little device for holding your attention," explained the
newcomer, between a cough and a snuffle, the remnant of polite
affectation. "I thought it out very carefully."

"Ho! You did?" queried Wetherbee.

"You used to be such a damnably abrupt sort of person yourself."

"Ho! Did I?"

"Even then. Even then, when we sat under the same pulpit--such time as
you found it socially expedient to attend--it was a matter of grave
doubt to me whether you took any real benefit. You were always a poor
listener, Mr.--ah--Wetherbee. Whereas I--I was chosen deacon that
winter, you may remember."

Wetherbee stared into the shaven, haunted face thus preposterously
thrust at him across the years. Aside from the unimaginable oddity of
the attack, there was cunning and unsettling purpose in it, but he
yielded no nerve reaction, no start or outcry; not even a denial. And by
this--had he been wise--the other might have taken warning.

"By Jove!" was all his comment.

"We've come a considerable distance," suggested the new arrival.

They looked in curious silence, each measuring that span from the edge
of things. Thursday howled on one side of them and on the other wind and
the sea, until the humor of it won Wetherbee to a grim chuckle.

"Well, what do they call you nowadays--deacon?"

"I'm usually known as Selden, thanks."

"Seldom?"

"I sho