“Refrain. I will attend to that. Gird yourself. Take the musket from the hall. It is loaded. Patrol!” “I don't want the musket.” “Be not overbold. Outside you may be at their mercy.” “_Outside!_” “Assuredly.” “Me patrol outside!” “That is your task. Forward!” By now Mr. Marrapit had risen; swathed himself in a dressing-gown. Sternly he addressed Mr. Fletcher: “As you this night quit yourself so will I consider the question of your dismissal. If blood is spilt this night it will be upon your head.” Mr. Fletcher trembled. “That's just it. It's 'ard--damn 'ard--” “Forward, Iscariot.” Mr. Marrapit drove Judas before him; in the hall took down the gun and pressed it into the shaking hands. He drew the bolts, impelled Iscariot outward, and essayed to close the door. Mr. Fletcher clutched the handle. Mr. Marrapit pushed; hissed through the crack: “Away! Search every nook. Penetrate each fastness. Use stealth. Track, trace, follow!” Discarding entreaty, Mr. Fletcher put hoarse protest through the slit of aperture that remained: “I should like to ast if I was engaged for this, Mr. Marrapit,” he panted. “I'm a gardener, I am--” “I recognise that. To your department. With your life forefend it.” Mr. Marrapit fetched the door against the lintel; in the brief moment he could hold it close slid the lock. VIII. No tremor of fear or of excitement ruffled this remarkable man. Calm in the breezes of life he was calm also in its tempests. This is a natural corollary. As a man faces the smaller matters of his life so he will face its crises. Each smallest act accomplished imprints its stamp upon the pliable mass we call character; our manner of handling each tiniest common-place of our routine helps mould its form; each fleeting thought helps shape the mould. The process is involuntary and we are not aware of its working. Character is not made by tremendous thumps, but by the constant patterings of minutest touches. The athlete does not build his strength by enormous exertions, but by consistent and gentle training. Huge strains at spasmodic intervals, separated by periods in which he lies fallow in sloth, add nothing to his capacity for endurance; it is by the tally of each minute of his preparation that you may read how he will acquit himself against the test. Thus also with the shaping of character, and thus was Mr. Marrapit, collected in minor affairs, mighty in this crisis. IX. Turning from the door he marched steadily across the hall towards the stairs to arouse George. At the lowermost step a movement on the landing above made him pause. He was to be spared the trouble. Placing the candle upon a table he looked up. He spoke. “George!” “Wash it?” said a voice. “Wash it?” “Wash nothing,” Mr. Marrapit commanded. “Who is this?” The answer, starting low, ascended a shrill scale: “Wash it? Wash it? Wash it?” “Silence!” Mr. Marrapit answered. “Descend!”