aising his head.

'You do not wish me to repeat all that my wife tells me she has told
you?'

'Dear me, no,' said Mr Bethany cheerfully, 'I wish nothing, nothing, old
friend. You must not burden yourself with me. If I may be of any help,
here I am.... Oh, no, no....' he paused, with blinking eyes, but wits
still shrewd and alert. Why doesn't the man raise his head? he thought.
A mere domestic dispute!

'I thought,' he went on ruminatingly, 'I thought on Tuesday, yes, on
Tuesday, that you weren't looking quite the thing. Indeed, I remarked on
it. But now, I understand from Mrs Lawford that the malady has taken
a graver turn--eh, Lawford, an heretical turn? I hear you have been
wandering from the true fold.' Mr Bethany leaned forward with what might
be described as a very large smile in a very small compass. 'And that,
of course, entailed instant retribution.' He broke off solemnly. 'I know
Widderstone churchyard well; a most verdant and beautiful spot. The late
rector, a Mr Strickland, was a very old friend of mine. And his wife,
dear good Alicia, used to set out her babies, in the morning, to sleep
and to play there, twenty, dear me, perhaps twenty-five years ago. But
I did not know, my dear Lawford, that you--' and suddenly, without an
instant's warning, something seemed to shout at him, 'Look, look! He is
looking at you!' He stopped, faltered, and a slight warmth came into his
face. 'And and you were taken ill there?' His voice had fallen flat and
faint.

'I fell asleep--or something of that sort,' came the stubborn reply.

'Yes,' said Mr Bethany, brightly, 'so your wife was saying. "Fell
asleep," so have I too--scores of times'; he beamed, with beads of sweat
glistening on his forehead. 'And then? I'm not, I'm not persisting?'

'Then I woke; refreshed, I think, as it seemed--I felt much better and
came home.'

'Ah, yes,' said his visitor. And after that there was a long, brightly
lit, intense pause; at the end of which Lawford raised his face and
again looked firmly at his friend.

Mr Bethany was now a shrunken old man; he sat perfectly still, his head
craned a little forward, and his veined hands clutching his bent, spare
knees.

There wasn't the least sign of devilry, or out-facingness, or insolence
in that lean shadowy steady head; and yet he himself was compelled to
sidle his glance away, so much the face shook him. He closed his eyes,
too, as a cat does after exchanging too direct a scrutiny with huma