one corner rose a gigantic elm; in another a broken stairway
of stone led to a doorway set high in the walls of the nave;
across the enclosure itself was a pathway which led towards
the houses in the south-east corner of the Close. It was a
curious, gloomy spot, little frequented save by people who
went across it rather than follow the gravelled paths outside,
and it was untenanted when Bryce stepped into it. But just as
he walked through the archway he saw Ransford. Ransford was
emerging hastily from a postern door in the west porch--so
hastily that Bryce checked himself to look at him. And though
they were twenty yards apart, Bryce saw that Ransford's face
was very pale, almost to whiteness, and that he was
unmistakably agitated. Instantly he connected that agitation
with the man who had come to the surgery door.

"They've met!" mused Bryce, and stopped, staring after
Ransford's retreating figure. "Now what is it in that man's
mere presence that's upset Ransford? He looks like a man
who's had a nasty, unexpected shock--a bad 'un!"

He remained standing in the archway, gazing after the
retreating figure, until Ransford had disappeared within his
own garden; still wondering and speculating, but not about
his own affairs, he turned across Paradise at last and made
his way towards the farther corner. There was a little
wicket-gate there, set in the ivied wall; as Bryce opened it,
a man in the working dress of a stone-mason, whom he
recognized as being one of the master-mason's staff, came
running out of the bushes. His face, too, was white, and his
eyes were big with excitement. And recognizing Bryce, he