"I do not believe it! It is too small for----" "My dear madam," expostulated the vicar warmly, annoyed at having his veracity impugned, "I assure you it _was_ so. Try for yourself!" In her rage Mrs. Hedderwick raised her arm as if to strike the impious suggester. Mrs. Peters interposed, as the vicar quailed, and the situation was saved. "Charles! What an indelicate thought! Imagine a lady like Mrs. Hedderwick _crawling_----" The vicar had been through an anxious quarter of an hour. His nerves were on strings, and at any moment the tension might prove too strong. Had he been master of himself--had he possessed no sense of humor--had his late guest not presented so ridiculous an appearance in his exit, all might have yet been well. But the image projected upon his brain by the words of his wife (who had but an imperfect sympathy with comedy) was too much. He did not roar aloud, as he could have wished, but he buried his face in his hands and leaned upon the mantelpiece. The heaving of the shoulders gave evidence of his emotion. "I think," said Mrs. Hedderwick, after a dreadful pause, "that your husband is hardly himself." "I will attend to him presently," replied Mrs. Peters with menacing sympathy. "Come, Mrs. Hedderwick: I am sorry you should meet with such a disappointment. Your best course would be to drive to The Happy Heart, where I understand the fugitive is staying." They left the room, without deigning to bestow any further notice on the vicar. He, unhappy man, pulled himself together too late. He wiped his eyes and rushed after them to offer seemly apologies. But as he reached his garden gate he saw the motor drive off. Behind the chauffeur were seated Mrs. Hedderwick and his wife. Mrs. Peters was resolved, if possible, to be in at the death. "After all," thought the vicar when he realized that he could do nothing to reestablish himself, "why shouldn't I, too, see what is going to happen? Hedderwick suggested I should call at The Quiet House.... I might try again.... His suspicion, surely, can not be founded on fact, but at least it will be interesting--nay, a positive duty! If a fellow creature wants our services, we ought to spare neither time nor trouble--well, Brown! what is it?" "Beg pardon, sir!" said the odd-job man, touching his hat. Mr. Peters noticed with astonishment that he was in his Sunday clothes. "I want to give notice!" "I can't be bothered with that now," said the vicar impatiently. "I am particularly busy. Come to me----" "I am sorry, sir, but I want to go at once," he said, interrupting the vicar. The latter stared. "But that's most unusual and inconsiderate. If you want to go, a week's notice----" "It's too important for that, sir. Of course I am ready to forego my week's wages, but go I must." "Not a death in the family, I hope?" said Mr. Peters, subduing the impatience of his tone. "If so, I'm very sorry, and of course----"