"A cross, just here, in the middle of that green," he cried. "One will b-burrow through the tunnel, and find the c-cross at the end!" And then, suddenly, the merriment died out of his face, and the two looked at each other. "I will go for the saw and the hammer," said Paul, after a second. "Yes," cried Father Vassall, animation again. "I know of two s-saplings which will just do." Paul turned back. "N-N-No!" spluttered his friend; "n-n-not through the tunnel now!" So Paul went back another way. Or, intermittently, they laboured at a rockery. The priest had been engaged upon it, but he took a dislike to the job soon after Paul's arrival. One day, after half an hour's work, he flung down his spade. Paul grounded a loaded wheelbarrow, and laughed. "What in the world is the matter?" he demanded. "I will not have a r-r-rockery in my garden," said the priest, "not a made rockery anyway. I knew it was a bad idea." "Why ever?" asked Paul, frankly puzzled. "The d-d-devil makes r-rockeries," said Father Vassall, "not G-G-God." One evening Paul related at length the incidents of the Port o' Man mission, and particularly that of Mr. Childers. Father Vassall heard him gravely. At the close he asked: "Do you know David Etheridge?" Paul shook his head. "Ever heard of him?" "No. Who is he?" "We'll go and see him to-morrow. Shall we? You'll like him. He lives about two miles off." "Good," said Paul, smiling. "But who in the world is he?" "He's a Catholic. He was a Spiritualist. He became converted because it was the d-d-devil." "Oh, I'd love to meet him then," cried Paul. They went, then, luncheon being over, the priest in his rusty country ulster, a little bent, preoccupied, grave; Paul swinging along in a tweed jacket eagerly. The few passers-by saluted the priest, and a clergyman on a bicycle looked at Paul intently. "He's the V-V-Vicar," said Father Vassall, bubbling with laughter. "He's a g-g-good man; I like him; but I expect he'd like to r-r-rescue you!" (4) David Etheridge lived in a small cottage, and he was pottering about the garden when they arrived. Paul had received no description of him and had no reason to expect one thing more than another, but the ex-Spiritualist's short, rather tubby figure and round, smiling, pink face, tickled him. He looked the last man in the world to have met with the devil. Anyway he seemed to have come well out of the encounter.