"The most wonderful thing has happened, Mr. Enistor," said the vicar, entering the library on the afternoon of the second day. "The age of miracles is not yet past, my dear friend." Enistor scowled. He did not like to be called a dear friend by the parson, as he thought the man was an ass, and he was quite sure in his own mind that miracles were all rubbish. He told Mr. Sparrow as much. "This isn't Palestine to be gulled by such things, and we live in a scientific era." "In a very godless era," said the vicar in a tone of reproof. "And I only hope that the wonderful thing that has happened will convert those who do not believe in an Almighty Being to a more reverent frame of mind." This was a hit at the Squire, who was looked upon as an atheist by Mr. Sparrow. But Enistor did not take up the challenge. "What is your miracle?" "Mr. Hardwick is alive." "What?" the Squire could not but feel startled at the announcement. "Ah, I thought you would be amazed," said Mr. Sparrow complacently. "Wonderful are the works of God and----" "Oh, hang your platitudes! You talk rubbish. Why, you told me yourself that Hardwick was dead." "I did. I saw him lying dead on his bed, and mentioned to Mr. Montrose that he looked as though he were asleep. It might be a case of suspended animation," continued Mr. Sparrow, brushing his bald head thoughtfully, "something of a cataleptic nature it may be." "Well? Well? Well? Go on." "There is nothing further to say, Mr. Enistor. The presumed dead man revived this morning and is now as well as you or I. I was sent for immediately by the landlady and called to express my astonishment. I have telegraphed for the Perchton doctor who deposed to the death. He will be amazed to learn what has taken place. Wonderful! Wonderful! Wonderful!" "It is no doubt a case of catalepsy as you say," growled the Squire, turning to his desk again. "A good thing for Hardwick that he wasn't buried alive. Now he can enjoy Narvaez' fortune and have a good time." "I hope he will be a good man, seeing that he has been raised from the dead like Lazarus. Not that Mr. Hardwick was bad. Indeed I always thought that he had signs of grace about him. Well! Well! His resurrection gives me a text for next Sunday. I thought you would be pleased." "I am not pleased and I am not sorry," retorted Enistor. "Hardwick is a nonentity and is nothing to me." "I thought you were friends, Mr. Enistor. He asks to see you, saying that he is sure you will come down to him at once." "He presumes too much. I have quite enough to do in searching for this scoundrel who murdered my dear friend." "I don't believe he did," said Sparrow decidedly. "Mr. Montrose is not the man to shed blood." "He didn't," said the Squire grimly, "he broke the man's neck. And if he did not murder Narvaez, who did? Not Job Trevel, who was the other person who uttered threats." "It is a great mystery," sighed the vicar, putting on his hat.