Presently my friend said:

"You remember when we were in the boat yesterday, we saw a man
driving some horses along the bank?"

"Yes."

He nodded at the hearse and said "Well, that's him."

I thought awhile.

"I didn't take any particular notice of him," I said. "He said
something, didn't he?"

"Yes; said it was a fine day. You'd have taken more notice if you'd
known that he was doomed to die in the hour, and that those were the
last words he would say to any man in this world."

"To be sure," said a full voice from the rear. "If ye'd known
that, ye'd have prolonged the conversation."

We plodded on across the railway line and along the hot, dusty road
which ran to the cemetery, some of us talking about the accident, and
lying about the narrow escapes we had had ourselves. Presently
someone said:

"There's the Devil."

I looked up and saw a priest standing in the shade of the tree by the
cemetery gate.