The thought oppressed him, pricked his pastoral conscience. Isaac was his right-hand man: dull to all the rest of the world, but not dull to the minister. With Mr. Drew sometimes he would break into talk of religion, and the man's dark eyes would lose their film. His big troubled self spoke with that accent of truth which lifts common talk and halting texts to poetry. The minister, himself more of a pessimist than his sermons showed, felt a deep regard for him. Could nothing be done to save Isaac's wife and Isaac? Not so long ago Bessie Costrell had been a decent woman, though a flighty and excitable one. Now some cause, unknown to the minister, had upset a wavering balance, and was undoing a life. As he passed the public-house a man came out, and through the open door Mr. Drew caught a momentary glimpse of the bar and the drinkers. Bessie's handsome, reckless head stood out an instant in the bright light. Then Drew saw that the man who had emerged was Watson the policeman. They greeted each other cordially and walked on together. Watson also was a member of the minister's flock. Mr. Drew felt suddenly moved to unburden himself. 'That was Costrell's wife, Watson, wasn't it, poor thing?' 'Aye, it wor Mrs. Costrell,' said Watson, in the tone of concern natural to the respectable husband and father. The minister sighed. 'It's terrible the way she's gone downhill the last three months. I never pass almost but I see her going in there or coming out.' 'No,' said Watson, slowly, 'no, it's bad. What I'd like to know,' he added, reflectively,' is where she gets the money from.' 'Oh, she had a legacy, hadn't she, in August? It seems to have been a curse. She has been a changed woman ever since.' 'Yes, she had a legacy,' said Watson, dubiously; 'but I don't believe it was much. She talked big, of course, and made a lot o' fuss--she's that kind o' woman--just as she did about old John's money.' 'Old John's money?--Ah! did any one ever know what became of that?' 'Well, there's many people thinks as Isaac has got it hid in the house somewhere, and there's others thinks he's put it in Bedford bank. Edwards told me private he didn't know nothing about it at the post-office, and Bessie told my wife as John had given Isaac the keepin of it till he come back again; but he'd knock her about, she said, if she let on what he'd done with it. That's the story she's allus had, and boastin, of course, dreadful, about John's trustin them, and Isaac doin all his business for him.' The minister reflected. 'And you say the legacy wasn't much?' 'Well, sir, I know some people over at Bedford where her aunt lived as left it her, and they were sure it wasn't a great deal; but you never know.' 'And Isaac never said?' 'Bless yer, no sir! He was never a great one for talking, wasn't Isaac; but you'd think now as he'd never learnt how. He'll set there in the club of a night and never open his mouth to nobody.' 'Perhaps he's fretting about his wife, Watson?'