Sacred Priest Alphonso was white and haggard, and the deep lines on his face showed the strain that he had passed through. His arms hung heavily on the arms of the chair, his eyes were fixed on the carpet. Mr. Barringcourt was writing a letter. When he had finished it, he sealed it, and tossed it on the table, then bent his eyes upon his guest as a doctor sometimes does upon an uncertain patient he treats as an experiment. Without saying anything, he got up, and went to a side-table, and poured out two glasses of red wine. One he filled, the other only half, then turned his head round and looked at the Priest. Still he sat in the same weary lethargy. A smile curved Mr. Barringcourt’s lips. “Very far gone,” he muttered, and filled the glass. Then he took it across and offered it to him. He took it carelessly and drank all the contents. Mr. Barringcourt drank half his and flung the rest into the fire. It blazed up in a brilliant red light, then died away as suddenly, leaving the fire dark, as if water had been poured on it. But this beverage must have refreshed the High Priest wonderfully; for suddenly rousing himself, he looked up at Mr. Barringcourt, and said, slapping his hand upon the chair arm: “To-day has ended successfully. But the first thing I do on coming into office is to bring that woman to trial.” “Which woman?” said Mr. Barringcourt, sitting down on the opposite side of the fireplace. “That fool who nearly spoilt everything last night by having too long a tongue.” The wine surely had had a heating effect. “Miss Paleaf?” “Yes. The one I took rather a fancy to at the Sebberens’, and asked you to introduce me to.” And he laughed cynically. “Oh,” said Mr. Barringcourt easily, “you’ll let that die down. Set a constant guard of two priests to watch the curtain. Such vigilance will satisfy the people. Besides, Crokerly is doing the work of the panelling, and none can do it like him. You can’t afford to quarrel with him over the mischiefmaking propensities of a woman.” “Do you mean to say you would look lightly on her conduct of last night?” “Of course! She did you no harm. It’s herself she’s harmed, as she’ll find out as time goes on. It’s always best to be a bit forbearing with women; they’re given to flying off rather unexpectedly at times.” “No excuse. No excuse at all. She did it from malicious intention and love of meddling.” “What do you propose to do, then? Tear her tongue out?” “Imprison her for life.” “O Lord!” said Mr. Barringcourt, and he laughed. Then he laughed again, and again he said, “O Lord!” The other frowned, and the light of anger glinted in his eye.