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him a hammock for the night, when he arrived so late. But now he must go."

"And he disobeyed you?"

"He said he wanted to speak to you."

"He little knew," Captain Fellows said, "he little knew." Irony was his only defence, but it was not understood: nothing was understood which was not clear-like an alphabet or a simple sum or a date in history. He relinquished his wife's hand and allowed himself to be led unwillingly into the afternoon sun. The police officer stood in front of the veranda: a motionless olive figure: he wouldn't stir a foot to meet Captain Fellows.

"Well, lieutenant?" Captain Fellows said breezily. It occurred to him that Coral had more in common with the policeman than with himself.

"I am looking for a man," the lieutenant said: "He has been reported in this district."

"He can't be here."

"Your daughter tells me the same."

"She knows."

"He is wanted on a very serious charge."

"Murder?"

"No. Treason."

"Oh, treason," Captain Fellows said, all his interest dropping: there was so much treason everywhere-it was like petty larceny in a barracks.

"He is a priest. I trust you will report at once if he is seen." The lieutenant paused. "You are a foreigner living under the protection of our laws. We expect you to make a proper return for our hospitality. You are not a Catholic?"

"No."

"Then I can trust you to report?" the lieutenant said.

"I suppose so."

The lieutenant stood there like a little dark menacing question mark in the sun: his attitude seemed to indicate that he wouldn't even accept the benefit of shade from a foreigner. But he had used a hammock: that, Captain Fellows supposed, he must have regarded as a requisition. "Have a glass of gaseosa?"

"No. No, thank you."

"Well," Captain Fellows said, "I can't offer you anything else, can I? It's treason to drink spirits."

The lieutenant suddenly turned on his heel as if he could no longer bear the sight of them and strode away along the path which led to the village: his gaiters and his pistol-holster winked in the sunlight. When he had gone some way they could see him pause and spit: he had not been discourteous, he had waited till he supposed that they no longer watched him before he got rid of his hatred and contempt for a different way of life, for ease, safety, toleration, and complacency.

"I wouldn't want to be up against him," Captain Fellows said.

"Of course he doesn't trust us."

"They don't trust anyone."

"I think," Coral said. "he smelt a rat."

"They smell them everywhere."

"You see, I wouldn't let him search the place."

"Why ever not?" Captain Fellows said-and then his vague mind went off at a tangent. "How did you stop him?"

"I said I'd loose the dogs on him-and complain to the Minister. He hadn't any right..."

"Oh, right," Captain Fellows said. "They carry their right on their hips. It wouldn't have done any harm to let him look."

"I gave him my word." She was as inflexible as the lieutenant: small and black and out of place among the banana groves. Her candour made allowances for nobody: the future, full of compromises, anxieties, and shame, lay outside: the gate was dosed which would one day let it in. But at any moment now a word, a gesture, the most trivial act might be her sesame-to what? Captain Fellows was touched with fear: he was aware of an inordinate love: it robbed him of authority. You cannot control what you love-you watch it driving recklessly towards the broken bridge, the torn-up track, the horror of seventy years ahead. He dosed his eyes-he was a happy man--and hummed a tune.

Coral said: "I shouldn't have liked a man like that to catch me out-lying, I mean."

"Lying? Good God," Captain Fellows said, "you don't mean he's here?"

"Of course he's here," Coral said.

"Where?"

"In the big barn," she explained gently.

"We couldn't let them catch him."

"Does your mother know about this?"

She said with devastating honesty: "Oh, no. I couldn't trust her." She was independent of both of them: they belonged