Ronder saw with relief when he came into the Chapter House that Brandon was not present. They were standing about the room, looking out into the Cloisters, talking in little groups--the Dean, Bentinck-Major, Ryle, Foster, and Bond, the Clerk, a little apart from the others as social decency demanded. When Ronder entered, two things at once were plain--one, how greatly during these last months he had grown in importance with all of them and, secondly, how nervous they were all feeling. They all turned towards him. "Ah, Ronder," said the Dean, "that's right. I was afraid lest something should keep you." "No--no--what a cold damp day! Autumn is really upon us." They discussed the weather, once and again eyeing the door apprehensively. Bentinck-Major took Ronder aside: "My wife and I have been wondering whether you'd honour us by dining with us on the 25th," he said. "A cousin of my wife's, Lady Caroline Holmesby, is to be staying with us just then. It would give us such great pleasure if you and Miss Ronder would join us that evening. My wife is, of course, writing to Miss Ronder." "So far as I know, my aunt and I are both free and will be delighted to come," said Ronder. "Delightful! That will be delightful! As a matter of fact we were thinking of having that evening a little Shakespeare reading. We thought of _King Lear_." "Ah! That's another matter," said Ronder, laughing. "I'll be delighted to listen, but as to taking part--" "But you must! You must!" said Bentinck-Major, catching hold of one of the buttons on Ronder's waistcoat, a habit that Ronder most especially disliked. "More culture is what our town needs--several of us have been thinking so. It is really time, I think, to start a little Shakespeare reading amongst ourselves--strictly amongst ourselves, of course. The trouble with Shakespeare is that he is so often a little--a little bold, for mixed reading--and that restricts us. Nevertheless, we hope...I do trust that you will join us, Canon Ronder." "I make no promises," said Ronder. "If you knew how badly I read, you'd hesitate before asking me." "We are past our time," said the Dean, looking at his watch. "We are all here, I think, but Brandon and Witheram. Witheram is away at Drymouth. He has written to me. How long we should wait----" "I can hardly believe," said Byle nervously, "that Archdeacon Brandon will be present. He is extremely unwell. I don't know whether you are aware that three nights ago he was found by Lawrence the Verger here in the Cathedral in a fainting fit. He is very unwell, I'm afraid." The whole group was immensely interested. They had heard.... Fainting? Here in the Cathedral? Yes, by the Bishop's Tomb. He was better yesterday, but it is hardly likely that he will come this morning. "Poor man!" said the Dean, gently distressed. "I heard something...That was the result, I'm afraid, of his fracas that morning in the High Street; he must be most seriously unwell."