"I don't understand," repeated Robert wearily. Then suddenly a light broke on him, and he laughed. It was his first laugh for five days. "Oh, I see! I don't mean _that_ kind of confession. This is purely a personal matter--man to man." "In that case, my love, I think----" "No," said the resolute woman. "I am determined that you shall not be imposed on any longer. I have kept silence, perhaps too long. Mr. _Bangs_, yesterday I telephoned to Bloomsbury 843B." "_What!_" said Robert with a moan. "You telephoned _there_!" CHAPTER XXIII STILL RUNNING With a glance of triumphant contempt at the bladder she had pricked so easily, Mrs. Peters turned to her husband. "I think, Charles, that I can safely leave you now to hear Mr. Hedderwick's explanation. I have no wish to be present during a painful scene; besides, I am wanted in the larder." "_Mr. Hedderwick!_" repeated the vicar blankly. "What do you mean, Clara? I can not understand--I have no idea--you must----" "He will tell you," said the lady, vouchsafing nothing further. After all, she had had a fair share of the lime-light, and there was no need to risk an anticlimax. "If you had only listened to me when I warned you ... but there! men are all alike." She swept from the room, and the bewildered clergyman appealed to the heap in the chair. "Mr. Bangs--Mr. Hedderwick, perhaps I ought to say--will you be kind enough to tell me what it all means?" Robert raised a stricken head. "I thought, Mr. Peters, that things were bad enough when I came. Your wife's news proves to me that I am wrong. My name is not Bangs, but Hedderwick." "So I gathered," said the vicar uncomfortably. "I think you owe me an explanation of your reasons for adopting a false name." Robert glanced wildly at the clock. "There is no time to go into details now. She may be here at any minute. But for the moment, Mr. Peters, please accept my word that I am involved in no disgrace--no shameful action. I am a churchwarden----" "You really are?" There was excuse for the implied doubt. "I really am, and innocent. My fault is an excessive love for romance and a temporary desertion of my wife. Oh! do not misunderstand me!" he begged, as he noticed an ecclesiastical stiffening. "I simply ran away for a short holiday--I meant to go back very soon! Surely, surely, you can understand! You are married--I mean, a clergyman in the exercise of his duties must have a wide knowledge of the world--a certain sympathy...." "I can understand," said the vicar thoughtfully, perhaps flattered at the tribute to his worldly knowledge. "I can not praise--possibly can not sympathize; but at least I may fairly claim to understand." "Thank you--thank you! Well, to be as brief as I can (and every minute is precious!), my friend and I had reason to suspect the occupants of The Quiet House----" "Ha!" The vicar pricked up his ears. "Certain hints and whisperings have drifted round to me in the course of my parochial visiting, but----"