ftly, "I must go and see this man."

"Is it really necessary, Grig, to see him at all? I mean--if you've made
up your mind----"

Gregory ran his hand through his hair.

"It's only fair, I think!" And crossing the hall, he let himself out so
quietly that no one but Mrs. Pendyce noticed he had gone.

An hour and a half later, near the railway-station, on the road from the
village back to Worsted Skeynes, Mr. Pendyce and his daughter Bee were
returning from their Sunday visit to their old butler, Bigson. The
Squire was talking.

"He's failing, Bee-dear old Bigson's failing. I can't hear what he
says, he mumbles so; and he forgets. Fancy his forgetting that I was at
Oxford. But we don't get servants like him nowadays. That chap we've got
now is a sleepy fellow. Sleepy! he's----What's that in the road? They've
no business to be coming at that pace. Who is it? I can't see."

Down the middle of the dark road a dog cart was approaching at top
speed. Bee seized her father's arm and pulled it vigorously, for Mr.
Pendyce was standing stock-still in disapproval. The dog cart passed
within a foot of him and vanished, swinging round into the station. Mr.
Pendyce turned in his tracks.

"Who was that? Disgraceful! On Sunday, too! The fellow must be drunk; he
nearly ran over my legs. Did you see, Bee, he nearly ran over----"

Bee answered:

"It was Captain Bellew, Father; I saw his face." "Bellew? That drunken
fellow? I shall summons him. Did you see, Bee, he nearly ran over
my----"

"Perhaps he's had bad news," said Bee. "There's the train going out now;
I do hope he caught it!"

"Bad news! Is that an excuse for driving over me? You hope he caught
it? I hope he's thrown himself out. The ruffian! I hope he's killed
himself."

In this strain Mr. Pendyce continued until they reached the church. On
their way up the aisle they passed Gregory Vigil leaning forward with
his elbows on the desk and his hand covering his eyes....

At eleven o'clock that night a man stood outside the door of Mrs.
Bellew's flat in Chelsea violently ringing the bell. His face was
deathly white, but his little dark eyes sparkled. The door was opened,
and Helen Bellew in evening dress stood there holding a candle in her
hand.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

The man moved into the light.

"Jaspar! You? What on earth----"

"I want to talk."

"Talk? Do you know what time it is?"

"Time--there's no such thing. You might give me a kiss after t