re, one might just discern a wide space of common land
stretching away boldly until the dark barrier of woods stopped it
short. To his right the ground lay level, with the road enlarging
itself to a dusty bay in front of the Roebuck Inn, turning by the
churchyard wall, forking between two gardened houses of gentlefolk,
and losing itself suddenly in the same white mist that closed the
other vista. Over the veiling whiteness, over the red roofs, and high
above the church tower, the sky of a glorious July morning rose
unstained to measureless arches of blue.

As always in this early hour of the day, the postmaster thought of his
own importance. The village seemed still half asleep--blinds down
wherever he looked--lazy, money-greedy tradesmen not yet alive to
their selfish enterprises--only the poor laborers of the soil already
at work; and nevertheless here was he, William Dale, up and about,
carrying on the continuous business of the state.

But how long would he be permitted to feel like this? Could it be
possible that the end of his importance was near at hand?

_On Her Majesty's Service!_ He opened the envelope, unfolded the folio
sheet of paper that it contained, began to read--and immediately all
the blood in his body seemed to rush to his head.

"I am to inform you that you are temporarily suspended." And in the
pompous language of headquarters he was further informed that the
person appointed to take over control would arrive at Rodchurch Road
Station by the eleven o'clock train; that he himself was to come to
London on the morrow, and immediately call at the G.P.O.; where, on
the afternoon of that day or the morning of a subsequent day, he would
be given an opportunity of stating his case in person, "agreeable to
his request."

Why had they suspended him? Surely it would have been more usual if
they had allowed him to leave the office in charge of his chief clerk,
or if they had given charge of it to a competent person from Rodhaven,
and not sent a traveler from London? The traveling inspector is the
bird of evil presage: he hovers over the houses of doomed men.

William Dale ran his hand round the collarless neck of his shirt, and
felt the perspiration that had suddenly moistened his skin.

He was a big man of thirty-five; a type of the strong-limbed,
quick-witted peasant, who is by nature active as a squirrel and
industrious as a beaver; and who, if once fired with ambition, soon
learns to direct all his