This communication was made to Toyner in the public-house, where they
had both gone the better to discuss their affairs. Toyner had gone in
labouring under horrible emotion. He believed that he was going to get
drunk, and the result of his fear was that he broke his pledge, giving
as an excuse to the by-standers that he felt ill. Yet he did not get
drunk.

Toyner saw the detective depart by the afternoon boat, and as he walked
back upon the bit of hot dusty road in the sun he reeled, not with the
spirits he had taken, but with the sickening sense that his battle was
lost.

Nothing seemed fair to him, nothing attractive, but to drink one more
glass of spirits, and to go and make promises to Ann that would be sweet
to her ear. He knew that for him it was the gate of death.

At this point the minister met him, and jumped at once to the conclusion
that he was drunk. The minister was one of those good men who found
their faith in God upon absolute want of faith in man. His heart was
better than his head, as is the case with all small-minded souls that
have come into conscious contact with God, but his opinions ruled his
official conduct. "I am afraid you have been drinking, Toyner," he said
reproachfully.

The first three words, "I am afraid," were enough for Bart; he was
filled himself with an all-pervading fear--a fear of himself, a fear of
God, a fear of the devil who would possess him again. He was not drunk;
the fact that drunkenness in him appeared so likely to this man, who was
the best friend he had, completed in his heart the work of revolt
against the minister and the minister's God. What right had God to take