all his powers with a curious contentment upon the petty lawsuits
of a province, he might have looked much the same; the head with the red
hair was heavy and powerful; the figure in its dark, quiet clothes
was comparatively insignificant, as was Napoleon's. He seemed more at
ease in the Squire's society than the doctor, who, though a gentleman,
was a shy one, and a mere shadow of his professional brother.

"As you truly say," remarked Paynter, "the story seems touched
with quite barbarous elements, probably Negro. Originally, though,
I think there was really a hagiological story about some hermit,
though some of the higher critics say St. Securis never existed,
but was only an allegory of arboriculture, since his name is the Latin
for an ax."

"Oh, if you come to that," remarked the poet Treherne,
"you might as well say Squire Vane doesn't exist, and that he's
only an allegory for a weathercock." Something a shade too
cool about this sally drew the lawyer's red brows together.
He looked across the table and met the poet's somewhat equivocal smile.

"Do I understand, Mr. Treherne," asked Ashe, "that you
support the miraculous claims of St. Securis in this case.
Do you, by any chance, believe in the walking trees?"

"I see men as trees walking," answered the poet, "like the man
cured of blindness in the Gospel. By the way, do I understand
that you support the miraculous claims of that--thaumaturgist?"

Paynter intervened swiftly and suavely. "Now that sounds a fascinating
piece of psychology. You see men as trees?"