brought him here, and I said that I would give you his message, and that
you would probably go round to see him."

"You said that, Atkins?"

His face was so drawn and unnatural that Atkins looked at him in
surprise.

"I suppose I was right?"

"If Hartley wants to see me," said Heath, in a loud, angry voice, "or if
he wants to come bullying and blustering, he must write and make an
appointment. I have every right to protect myself from a man who asks
personal and most impertinent questions."

"Hartley, impertinent?" Atkins' eyes grew round.

"When I say impertinent, I mean not pertinent, or bearing upon any
subject that I intend to discuss with him."

The Rev. Francis Heath got up and walked towards the window, turning his
back upon the room.

"I don't mix in social politics," said Atkins, soothingly. "But at the
same time, I can't understand you, Heath. What the devil does Hartley
want to know?"

The clergyman caught at the curtain and gripped it as he had gripped the
back of his chair at the Club.