He thought for a moment of asking his visitor why it was that bishops wore those rummy bootlace-looking things on their hats--a problem that had always perplexed him; but decided that the other might take offence at being urged to give away professional secrets. “How’s the choir coming along?” he asked. “The choir is quite satisfactory.” “That’s good. Organ all right?” “Quite, thank you.” “Fine!” said Mr. Braddock, feeling that things were beginning to move. “You know, down where I live, in Wiltshire, the local padres always seem to have the deuce of a lot of trouble with their organs. Their church organs, I mean, of course. I’m always getting touched for contributions to organ funds. Why is that? I’ve often wondered.” The Rev. Aubrey Jerningham forbore to follow him into this field of speculation. “Then you do not live here, Mr.----” “Braddock’s my name--Willoughby Braddock. Oh, no, I don’t live here. Just calling. Friend of the family.” “Ah? Then you are not acquainted with the--gentleman who lives next door--Mr. Shotter?” “Oh, yes, I am! Sam Shotter? He’s one of my best pals. Known him for years and years and years.” “Indeed? I cannot compliment you upon your choice of associates.” “Why, what’s wrong with Sam?” “Only this, Mr. Braddock,” said the Rev. Aubrey, his suppressed wrath boiling over like a kettle: “He is living a life of open sin.” “Open which?” “Open sin. In the heart of my parish.” “I don’t get this. How do you mean--open sin?” “I have it from this man Shotter’s own lips that he is a bachelor.” “Yes, that’s right.” “And yet a few minutes ago I called at his house and found that there was a woman residing there.” “A woman?” “A woman.” “But there can’t be. Sam’s not that sort of chap. Did you see her?” “I did not wait to see her. I heard her voice.” “I’ve got it,” said Mr. Braddock acutely. “She must have been a caller; some casual popper-in, you know.” “In that case, what would she be doing in his bedroom?” “In his bedroom?” “In--his--bedroom! I came here to warn Mr. Wrenn, who, I understand from Mr. Cornelius, has a young niece, to be most careful to allow nothing in the shape of neighbourly relations between the two houses. Do you think that Mr. Wrenn will be returning shortly?” “I couldn’t say. But look here,” said Mr. Braddock, troubled, “there must be some mistake.” “You do not know where he is, by any chance?” “No--yes, I do, though. He said something about going to see Cornelius. I think they play chess together or something. A game,” said Mr. Braddock, “which I have never been able to get the hang of. But then I’m not awfully good at those brainy games.” “I will go to Mr. Cornelius’ house,” said the Rev. Aubrey, rising. “You don’t play mah-jongg, do you?” asked Mr. Braddock. “Now, there’s a game that I----” “If he is not there, I will return.”