do not hear confessions," he said. "I do not approve----"

"Evangelical," snapped Clara. (Yes: there are vicar's wives who snap,
and she was one.)

"I don't understand," repeated Robert wearily. Then suddenly a light
broke on him, and he laughed. It was his first laugh for five days. "Oh,
I see! I don't mean _that_ kind of confession. This is purely a personal
matter--man to man."

"In that case, my love, I think----"

"No," said the resolute woman. "I am determined that you shall not be
imposed on any longer. I have kept silence, perhaps too long. Mr.
_Bangs_, yesterday I telephoned to Bloomsbury 843B."

"_What!_" said Robert with a moan. "You telephoned _there_!"

CHAPTER XXIII

STILL RUNNING

With a glance of triumphant contempt at the bladder she had pricked so
easily, Mrs. Peters turned to her husband. "I think, Charles, that I
can safely leave you now to hear Mr. Hedderwick's explanation. I have
no wish to be present during a painful scene; besides, I am wanted in
the larder."

"_Mr. Hedderwick!_" repeated the vicar blankly. "What do you mean,
Clara? I can not understand--I have no idea--you must----"

"He will tell you," said the lady, vouchsafing nothing further. After
all, she had had a fair share of the lime-light, and there was no need
to risk an anticlimax. "If you had only listened to me when I warned
you ... but there! men are all alike."

She swept from the room, and the bewildered clergyman appealed to the
heap in the chair.

"Mr. Bangs--Mr. Hedderwick, perhaps I ought to say--will you be kind
enough to tell me what it all means?"

Robert raised a stricken head.

"I thought, Mr. Peters, that things were bad enough when I came. Your
wife's news proves to me that I am wrong. My name is not Bangs, but
Hedderwick."

"So I gathered," said the vicar uncomfortably. "I think you owe me an
explanation of your reasons for adopting a false name."

Robert glanced wildly at the clock.

"There is no time to go into details now. She may be here at any minute.
But for the moment, Mr. Peters, please accept my word that I am involved
in no disgrace--no shameful action. I am a churchwarden----"

"You really are?" There was excuse for the implied doubt.

"I really am, and innocent. My fault is an excessive love for romance
and a temporary desertion of my wife. Oh! do not misunderstand me!" he
begged, as he noticed an ecclesiastical stiffening. "I simply ran away
for a short holiday--I meant