dence, or
something by Romney in the Louvre."

The Chaplain shifted uneasily in his seat. Now that the alternatives had
been suggested they all seemed dreadfully possible.

"I fell in love, or thought I did, with the local doctor's wife,"
continued the condemned. "Why I should have done so, I cannot say, for I
do not remember that she possessed any particular attractions of mind or
body. On looking back at past events if seems to me that she must have
been distinctly ordinary, but I suppose the doctor had fallen in love
with her once, and what man had done man can do. She appeared to be
pleased with the attentions which I paid her, and to that extent I
suppose I might say she encouraged me, but I think she was honestly
unaware that I meant anything more than a little neighbourly interest.
When one is face to face with Death one wishes to be just."

The Chaplain murmured approval. "At any rate, she was genuinely
horrified when I took advantage of the doctor's absence one evening to
declare what I believed to be my passion. She begged me to pass out of
her life, and I could scarcely do otherwise than agree, though I hadn't
the dimmest idea of how it was to be done. In novels and plays I knew it
was a regular occurrence, and if you mistook a lady's sentiments or
intentions you went off to India and did things on the frontier as a
matter of course. As I stumbled along the doctor's carriage-drive I had
no very clear idea as to what my line of action was to be, but I had a
vague feeling that I must look at the _Times_ Atlas before going to bed.
Then, on the dark and lonely highway, I came suddenly on a dead body."

The Chaplain's interest in the story visibly quickened.

"Judging by the clothes it wore, the corpse was that of a Salvation Army
captain. Some shocking accident seemed to have struck him down, and the
head was crushed and battered out of all human semblance. Probably, I
thought, a motor-car fatality; and then, with a sudden overmastering
insistence, came another thought, that here was a remarkable opportunity
for losing my identity and passing out of the life of the doctor's wife
for ever. No tiresome and risky voyage to distant lands, but a mere
exchange of clothes and identity with the unknown victim of an
unwitnessed accident. With considerable difficulty I undressed the
corpse, and clothed it anew in my own garments. Any one who has valeted
a dead Salvation Army captain in an uncertain light w