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of mercy.”
    “Well, I'm a just man. No one can deny that.”
    I did not speak, and he said sharply:
    “Why don't you answer? A penny for your thoughts, man.”
    I hesitated, then I decided to speak.
    “I was thinking,” I said, “that when my time comes, I should be sorry if the only plea I
     had to offer was that of justice. Because it might mean that only justice would be meted
     out to me . . .”
    “Pah! What we need is a little militant Christianity. I've always done my duty, I hope.
     Well, no more of that. I'll be along this evening, as I said. We'll make it a quarter?past
     six instead of six, if you don't mind. I've got to see a man in the village.”
    “That will suit me quite well.”
    He flourished his stick and strode away. Turning, I ran into Hawes. I thought he looked
     distinctly ill this morning. I had meant to upbraid him mildly for various matters in his
     province which had been muddled or shelved, but seeing his white strained face, I felt
     that the man was ill.
    I said as much, and he denied it, but not very vehemently. Finally he confessed that he
     was not feeling too fit, and appeared ready to accept my advice of going home to bed.
    I had a hurried lunch and went out to do some visits. Griselda had gone to London by the
     cheap Thursday train.
    I came in about a quarter to four with the intention of sketching the outline of my Sunday
     sermon, but Mary told me that Mr. Redding was waiting for me in the study.
    I found him pacing up and down with a worried face. He looked white and haggard.
    He turned abruptly at my entrance.
    “Look here, sir. I've been thinking over what you said yesterday. I've had a sleepless
     night thinking about it. You're right. I've got to cut and run.”
    “My dear boy,” I said.
    “You were right in what you said about Anne. I'll only bring trouble on her by staying
     here. She's Ñ she's too good for anything else. I see I've got to go. I've made things
     hard enough for her as it is, Heaven help me.”
    “I think you have made the only decision possible,” I said. “I know that it is a hard one,
     but believe me, it will be for the best in the end.”
    I could see that he thought that that was the kind of thing easily said by someone who
     didn't know what he was talking about.
    “You'll look after Anne? She needs a friend.”
    “You can rest assured that I will do everything in my power.”
    “Thank you, sir.” He wrung my hand. “You're a good sort, Padre. I shall see her to say
     good?bye this evening, and I shall probably pack up and go to?morrow. No good prolonging
     the agony. Thanks for letting me have the shed to paint in. I'm sorry not to have finished
     Mrs. Clement's portrait.”
    “Don't worry about that, my dear boy. Good?bye, and God bless you.”
    When he had gone I tried to settle down to my sermon, but with very poor success. I kept
     thinking of Lawrence and Anne Protheroe.
    I had rather an unpalatable cup of tea, cold and black, and at half?past five the
     telephone rang. I was informed that Mr. Abbott of Lower Farm was dying and would I please
     come at once.
    I rang up Old Hall immediately, for Lower Farm was nearly two miles away and I could not
     possibly get back by six?fifteen. I have never succeeded in learning to ride a bicycle.
    I was told, however, that Colonel Protheroe had just started out in the car, so I
     departed, leaving word With Mary that I had been called away, but would try to be back by
     six?thirty or soon after.

The Murder at the Vicarage

Chapter V
    It was nearer seven than half?past six when I approached the Vicarage gate on my return.
     Before I reached it, it swung open and Lawrence Redding came out. He stopped dead on
     seeing me, and I was immediately struck by his appearance. He looked like a man who was on
     the point of going mad. His eyes stared in a peculiar manner, he was deathly white, and he
     was shaking and twitching all over.
    I wondered for a moment whether he