remarked on it. But now, I understand from Mrs Lawford that the
malady has taken a graver turn--eh, Lawford, an heretical turn? I
hear you have been wandering from the true fold.' Mr Bethany
leaned forward with what might be described as a very large smile
in a very small compass. 'And that, of course, entailed instant
retribution.' He broke off solemnly. 'I know Widderstone
churchyard well; a most verdant and beautiful spot. The late
rector, a Mr Strickland, was a very old friend of mine. And his
wife, dear good Alicia, used to set out her babies, in the
morning, to sleep and to play there, twenty, dear me, perhaps
twenty-five years ago. But I did not know, my dear Lawford, that
you--' and suddenly, without an instant's warning, something
seemed to shout at him, 'Look, look! He is looking at you!' He
stopped, faltered, and a slight warmth came into his face. 'And
and you were taken ill there?' His voice had fallen flat and
faint.

'I fell asleep--or something of that sort,' came the stubborn
reply.

'Yes,' said Mr Bethany, brightly, 'so your wife was saying. "Fell
asleep," so have I too--scores of times'; he beamed, with beads
of sweat glistening on his forehead. 'And then? I'm not, I'm not
persisting?'

'Then I woke; refreshed, I think, as it seemed--I felt much
better and came home.'

'Ah, yes,' said his visitor. And after that there was a long,
brightly lit, intense pause; at the end of which Lawford raised