t in any case have caused a mild surprise;
but no more. It was no mild surprise that I felt. The likeness was
an extremely good one, worked up with all the accessories of the
conventional photographic studio. I was leaning my head on my hand and
was relieved against a painted landscape of woodland. It was obvious
that it was no snapshot; it was clear that I had sat for this
photograph. And the truth was that I had never sat for such a
photograph. It was a photograph that I had never had taken.

"I stared at it again and again. It seemed to me to be touched up a good
deal; it was glazed as well as framed, and the glass blurred some of the
details. But there unmistakably was my face, my eyes, my nose and mouth,
my head and hand, posed for a professional photographer. And I had never
posed so for any photographer.

"'Be'old the bloomin' miracle,' said the man with the revolver, with
ill-timed facetiousness. 'Parson, prepare to meet your God.' And with
this he slid the glass out of the frame. As the glass moved, I saw that
part of the picture was painted on it in Chinese white, notably a pair
of white whiskers and a clerical collar. And underneath was a portrait
of an old lady in a quiet black dress, leaning her head on her hand
against the woodland landscape. The old lady was as like me as one pin
is like another. It had required only the whiskers and the collar to
make it me in every hair.

"'Entertainin', ain't it?' said the man described as 'Arry, as he shot
the glass back again. 'Remarkable resemblance, parson. Gratifyin' to the
lady. Gratifyin' to you. And hi may hadd, particlery gratifyin' to us,
as bein' the probable source of a very tolerable haul. You know Colonel
Hawker, the man who's come to live in these parts, don't you?'

"I nodded.

"'Well,' said the man 'Arry, pointing to the picture, 'that's 'is
mother. 'Oo ran to catch 'im when 'e fell? She did,' and he flung his
fingers in a general gesture towards the photograph of the old lady who
was exactly like me.

"'Tell the old gent wot 'e's got to do and be done with it,' broke out
Bill from the door. 'Look 'ere, Reverend Shorter, we ain't goin' to do
you no 'arm. We'll give you a sov. for your trouble if you like. And as
for the old woman's clothes--why, you'll look lovely in 'em.'

"'You ain't much of a 'and at a description, Bill,' said the man behind
me. 'Mr Shorter, it's like this. We've got to see this man Hawker
tonight. Maybe 'e'll kiss us all an