Mr. Heath wiped his neck with his handkerchief.

"I held service as usual at five o'clock."

Hartley looked at him; there was something undeniably strained in the
clergyman's eyes and voice.

"Ah, but what I am after took place later."

The Rev. Francis Heath moistened his lips and stood up.

"My memory is constantly at fault," he said, avoiding Hartley's eyes and
looking at the ground. "I would not like to make any specific statement
without--without--reference to my note-book."

Hartley stared in astonishment.

"This is only a small matter, Heath. I was trying to get round to my
point in the usual way, by giving no actual indication of what I wanted
to know. You see, if you tell a man what you want, he sometimes imagines
that what he did on another day is what really happened on the actual
occasion, and that, as you can imagine, makes our job very difficult. I
don't want to bother you, but as your name was mentioned to me in
connection with a certain investigation, I wished to test the truth of
my man's statement."

Heath stood in the same attitude, his face pale and his eyes steadily
lowered.