The two doctors exchanged their views at considerable length. And when the vicar returned from Hart’s Ghyll, after an absence of more than an hour, he found the moral temperature much more equable. In fact the lion and the lamb were lying down together. Moreover, he had only to make known his own proposal that Murfin and Moriarty should be superseded in favor of Birdwood Thompson for this course to be acceptable to both. Dr. Joliffe at once led his visitors to his study, in order that a letter might be drawn up for the purpose of summoning the eminent specialist. It took some little time for this task to be performed. There were niceties of professional phrasing to consider; also the nature of the case called for a certain amount of discreet description. At last the letter was written, and then Dr. Parker was reminded by the sight of his car, which had come round from the vicarage, that he was urgently due elsewhere. XXI PRESSED for time, Dr. Parker fled. But he took the letter with him in order that he might post it in Brombridge, and so insure its earlier delivery in London. As soon as Dr. Parker had gone the vicar made a survey of the elements, and then set off at his best pace on a ten-minute walk to his house. In doing this he knew that he ran the risk of a soaking. Storm clouds which had hovered all the afternoon were now massed overhead. Hardly had he entered the village street, when he perceived large drops of rain. But in his present frame of mind he did not feel like staying a moment longer under Joliffe’s roof than he could help. He was still seething within. He was still marveling at the crassness of certain of his fellow creatures. The open defection of one whom he had counted a sure ally was very hard to forgive. However, by the time he had reached the edge of the common he realized that he was in a fair way of being drenched to the skin; moreover the rainstorms of the district, though often of great severity, did not last long as a rule. Near by was a thicket of well-grown trees, which at once lured the vicar to accept their protection. As he crept under the branches there came a play of lightning, followed by thunder in a series of deafening crashes. Devoutly thankful that he had had the wit to gain shelter he crouched low, turned up his coat collar and looked out at the rain descending in a sheet. A hundred yards or so away, an old, white-aproned village woman, very thinly clad, was struggling toward her cottage. As she came near the priest’s stone in the middle of the village green, a man without a hat, and no better protected from the storm than herself, suddenly sprang up before her. In an instant he had taken off his coat and placed it round her shoulders.