"You, then, are a miracle?" put in Hart, pointing the pipe at the
little man.

"To the person of ordinary intelligence--yes."

"After that," said Winter, "there is nothing more to be said. Let's see
who secures the pocket marvel as a partner at auction."

* * * * *

As a fitting end to the strange story of wayward love and maniacal frenzy
which found an unusual habitat in a secluded hamlet like Steynholme, a
small vignette of its normal life may be etched in. The trope is germane
to the scene.

On a wet afternoon in October Hobbs and Elkin had adjourned to the Hare
and Hounds. Tomlin was reading a newspaper spread on the bar counter. He
was alone. The day was Friday, and the last "commercial" of the week had
departed by the mid-day train.

"Wot's yer tonic?" demanded the butcher.

"A glass of beer," threw Elkin over his shoulder. He had walked to the
window, and was gazing moodily at the sign of the "plumber and decorator"
who had taken Siddle's shop. The village could not really support an
out-and-out chemist, so a local grocer had elected to stock patent
medicines as a side line.

Tomlin made play with a beer-pump.