“Ah-h!” said the vicar. “It has something to do with radioactivity I believe, and the liberation of certain electrons in the ether. That may not be exactly correct. I only know that it is something extremely scientific. Lady Tyrwhitt says Mr. Murdwell is tremendously pro-Ally, and that he is over to help us win the war.” “Oh-h!” said the vicar. “He seems an uncommonly interesting man.” “A very wonderful person. Lady Tyrwhitt says he is one of the most remarkable men living. And she says he is never out of sight of private detectives, because of the number of attempts that have been made on his life.” “I shall look forward to meeting him again on Wednesday.” Before Wednesday came, however, the vicar had much else to think about. Ever in the forefront of his mind was the vexatious matter of John Smith. It had been arranged that on the next day, Monday, Dr. Parker should come out from Brombridge, lunch at the vicarage, and then, if possible, interview the young man. On Monday morning the vicar made a preliminary survey of the ground. He went down to the village, and had a little talk with Field, the carpenter. From him he learned that John Smith had downed tools for a fortnight past, that he had been roaming the countryside at all hours of the day and night, and that “he wor shapin’ for another of his attacks.” Field was a sensible man, whom the vicar respected in spite of the fact that he was not among the most regular of the flock; therefore at some length he discussed with him a very vexed question. In reply to a direct canvass of his judgment, Field admitted that “John might be a bit soft-like.” At the same time he confessed the highest affection and admiration for him, and somewhat to the vicar’s annoyance volunteered the opinion that “he went about doing good.” “How _can_ you think that, Field?” said Mr. Perry-Hennington, sternly. “Well, sir, they say he keeps the chaps out of the publics.” “Who says so?” “At Brombridge, sir. They are getting to think a lot of him there.” “Are they indeed?” “He preaches there you know, sir, on Sunday afternoons at the market cross.” The vicar was shocked and scandalized. “I hope,” he said, “that he doesn’t give vent to the sort of opinions he does here.” “Yes, sir,” said Field, with respectful perplexity. “I know you parsons think him a bit of a freethinker, but I’m sure he means well. And begging your pardon, sir, he knows a lot about the Bible too.” “I take leave to doubt that, Field,” said the vicar, who had suddenly grown so deeply annoyed that he felt unable to continue the conversation. He left the shop abruptly. A little more light had been thrown on the subject, but somehow it increased his sense of worry and discomfort. He had not thought well to enlighten Field as to the gravamen of the charge, yet it was hard to repress a feeling of irritation that so sensible a man should hold such a heterodox view of his employee.