"Of course," he said, "I would face any danger if necessary and for a good cause. But I have my flock to think of.... If matters are as serious as you suggest, might there not be a second kidnaping? One hesitates to be melodramatic, but the possibilities of...."

"They would not dare to touch a minister of the church. There would be an outcry----"

"True ... true ... but would they admit me? I have called and been denied. Do you think----"

He paused, as a motor-horn sounded from the road. The noise of the engine was plainly heard. A moment later and the gate leading to the drive opened. The vicar walked to the window.

"Who can this be?" he said in surprise. "A motor-car, and in the morning! I hope he'll be careful of the borders."

Robert joined him at the window, his heart filled with anxious questioning. As he watched the car drive slowly in he clutched the vicar's arm. "She has changed her plan!" he gasped. "It's my wife! You must hide me quick!"

"B--but," stammered Mr. Peters, "there's no sense in that! Pull yourself together, Mr. Bangs--Mr. Hedderwick, I mean. You say you have done nothing wrong. Why not face her and get it over at once like a man?"

Robert, pallid in face and soul, gripped him more tightly, his knees shaking. The desperate need of the moment scorned the veneer of discretion. "You said you understood," he hissed fiercely. "Do you always stand up to Mrs. Peters?"

The vicar avoided his eye, but his answer brought hope to Robert. "Come along!" he said briskly, going to the door. He threw it open, and was disappointed to find his wife in the hall. That way of escape was blocked. "A caller, my dear!" he said, trying to cover his embarra.s.sment. "If I'm wanted, I shall be in here." He returned to the room and closed the door. "You're caught, Mr. Hedderwick, I'm afraid.

I'm very sorry, but you'll have to face it, after all."

"No, no!" said Robert. "Isn't there another door--a window?"

"The chauffeur's outside. Yes; by jove! there's the b.u.t.tery hatch.

Behind the screen! Get through that and out of the pantry window! It opens on the back. After that you must look out for yourself. I won't tell any lies on your behalf, but--but I'll try to give you a--a sporting start!"

Robert breathed a blessing on his head. Then, with some ado, he lifted the hatch and crawled through. The vicar closed it behind him, heard the pantry window open with a noiseless chuckle, and then braced himself to face a pair of indignant ladies. He had not long to wait, for, a minute after Robert had gained the road, Mrs. Peters introduced his visitor.

Mrs. Hedderwick glanced round the room much as a terrier who has been told there is a rat about, and without waiting for apologies or declarations, said with an extraordinary bitterness, "Where is my husband?"

"He was here a moment ago," replied the vicar, nervous, but not without a certain enjoyment of the scene. "I suppose that you are looking forward to--a reunion--a----"

"I am," said Mrs. Hedderwick with a vindictive quietness. "Where is he?

Hiding under the table?"

"My dear madam," expostulated the vicar, suppressing a wish to get there himself, so alarming was her eye, "do you imagine----"

"I want to know where he _is_!" interrupted the lady, still dangerously calm and determined. "Mrs. Peters most kindly--_most_ kindly telephoned to say that he was in Shereling, and she has just said that she left him here. Where is he?"

"He has gone," said the vicar dreamily, looking out of the window and wondering whether Robert had reached The Happy Heart. A good runner, he reflected, might perhaps have succeeded, but Mr. Bangs was no longer young.

"_Gone!_" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed both ladies together, and for once in his life the amiable clergyman had the satisfaction of communicating dramatic and exclusive news.

"Gone!" repeated Mrs. Peters. "Oh, Charles! Where? How?"

"Gone!" said Mrs. Hedderwick, with a rising inflection. "You have helped----"

"How could I detain him?" urged the vicar, retreating behind a chair.

"Why blame me? Could I be expected to keep him here by force? If Mr.

Hedderwick preferred to depart by the b.u.t.tery hatch----"

"The b.u.t.tery hatch."

"Let me show you," said the vicar helpfully, thinking that a reconstruction of the crime might divert a morbid interest in himself.

"You see here it is, behind the screen. Mr. Hedderwick opened it, climbed through----"

"I do not believe it! It is too small for----"

"My dear madam," expostulated the vicar warmly, annoyed at having his veracity impugned, "I a.s.sure you it _was_ so. Try for yourself!"

In her rage Mrs. Hedderwick raised her arm as if to strike the impious suggester. Mrs. Peters interposed, as the vicar quailed, and the situation was saved.

"Charles! What an indelicate thought! Imagine a lady like Mrs.

Hedderwick _crawling_----"

The vicar had been through an anxious quarter of an hour. His nerves were on strings, and at any moment the tension might prove too strong.

Had he been master of himself--had he possessed no sense of humor--had his late guest not presented so ridiculous an appearance in his exit, all might have yet been well. But the image projected upon his brain by the words of his wife (who had but an imperfect sympathy with comedy) was too much. He did not roar aloud, as he could have wished, but he buried his face in his hands and leaned upon the mantelpiece. The heaving of the shoulders gave evidence of his emotion.

"I think," said Mrs. Hedderwick, after a dreadful pause, "that your husband is hardly himself."

"I will attend to him presently," replied Mrs. Peters with menacing sympathy. "Come, Mrs. Hedderwick: I am sorry you should meet with such a disappointment. Your best course would be to drive to The Happy Heart, where I understand the fugitive is staying."

They left the room, without deigning to bestow any further notice on the vicar. He, unhappy man, pulled himself together too late. He wiped his eyes and rushed after them to offer seemly apologies. But as he reached his garden gate he saw the motor drive off. Behind the chauffeur were seated Mrs. Hedderwick and his wife. Mrs. Peters was resolved, if possible, to be in at the death.

"After all," thought the vicar when he realized that he could do nothing to reestablish himself, "why shouldn't I, too, see what is going to happen? Hedderwick suggested I should call at The Quiet House.... I might try again.... His suspicion, surely, can not be founded on fact, but at least it will be interesting--nay, a positive duty! If a fellow creature wants our services, we ought to spare neither time nor trouble--well, Brown! what is it?"

"Beg pardon, sir!" said the odd-job man, touching his hat. Mr. Peters noticed with astonishment that he was in his Sunday clothes. "I want to give notice!"

"I can't be bothered with that now," said the vicar impatiently. "I am particularly busy. Come to me----"

"I am sorry, sir, but I want to go at once," he said, interrupting the vicar.

The latter stared.

"But that's most unusual and inconsiderate. If you want to go, a week's notice----"

"It's too important for that, sir. Of course I am ready to forego my week's wages, but go I must."

"Not a death in the family, I hope?" said Mr. Peters, subduing the impatience of his tone. "If so, I'm very sorry, and of course----"

"No, sir: nothing serious--serious in that sense at least. I am sorry to have to give notice in such a hurry, but it must be done."

"Very well," replied the vicar, resuming an every-day voice. "Legally, of course, you couldn't demand your wages; but I have no intention of standing on the letter of the law. I might as well pay you now. Let's see----" He searched his pockets for change.

"Thank you, sir," replied the odd-job man. "You're very good to be so reasonable, and I wish I could oblige you by staying. Instead, if you'll kindly put a sovereign in the poor-box for me, I shall be satisfied."

"Eh--eh!" stammered the vicar. "Has all the world gone mad this morning?

A sovereign in the poor-box, from my gardener! Wh--what----"

"A little mad, sir?" smiled Henry Brown. "Perhaps there's some excuse.

Good-by and thank you."

He touched his hat and left the Shereling garden forever. Mr. Peters stared dumbly after him. He could make nothing of it, however, so he came to the sensible resolution of setting out on his investigations at once. Taking a stick in his hand, he trudged toward The Quiet House.