THE RECTOR AND THE SOULS. CHAPTER IV.

Bush Advocate, Volume XVIII, Issue 490, 16 August 1906, Page 2

THE RECTOR AND THE SOULS.

CHAPTER IV.

(Continued.) The important thing was to g«t the poor fellow to bed ns coon as pofiftihlo ; and Mrs Wilson waa bidden prepare the Hector's own room for him, and air tho best spare room for the Rector himself afterwards. Colin. Evans* bicycle waa stalled in the hall, and Colin himself was presently carried up to bed. Ho was a load and a half for Mr Hawkes and the lady, but they managed it. Then the Hector, warmed by his benevolence and the exertion, did all the rest that was necessary. He undressed Polly Gablc'a first love, clad him in. his own light blue silk pyjamaa, and summoned Mrs "Wilson for the crowning, and, he hoped, last effort. After which Colin Evans was left tucked up, with hot bricks at his feet, hot salt bags at his sides, and in that condition of complete repose which the Rector's experience in the hunting field had taught him was so advisable in cases of concussion. It remained now to await the doctor. But, and this was a disturbing detail, Dr Taverill had a midwifery subject at Wiverstoke, and didn't appear at the rectory until half-past ten! He was not co even-tempered as some doctors, and rather mocked at the idea that Colin Evans was so much hurt ac he seemed. Hie handling of the patient Beemed to confirm his diagnosis, for Colin coon wished to get up, dress, and be off to the Broby Arms, bicycle and all. And then the doctor went his way. He hadnt' finished with that midwifery matter ; and it was certainly a graver case than Colin Evans*. j "I suppose he must stay here to-night?" 1 the rector had said, more for the form's | sake than aught else. And the doctor had laughed drily, and said that he expected he knew the rector better than to believe he would make any man get up and dresn and go elsewhere at such a time on euch a night. "It wouldn't hurt him, but you can please yourself, Mr Hawkes," he said. Of course, therefore, Colin was to finish the night in the rector's own bed. It was too late now to inform his mother of his presence; Colin might do that in person the next morning. CHAPTER 111. At eleven o'clock the rector settled down for an hour's quiet reading in his parlour ere going to bed in the 6pare room. Tliere was not the least need for anyone to sit up with tho sick man, tho doctor had said, hearing which Colin himself had signified his satisfaction, and added still more about hie shame in being such a nuisance to the establishment. The wind howled on and the rain continued to spatter the window panes. Vortigern was taken away by Roger, in whose room ho was wont to sleep; and the rector wa9 alone with his book. But very soon he realised that his reading was a farce. He saw the words without connecting them. Tlie clock struck the half-hour, and he laid his spectacles aside and, joining his finger tips, gazed at the dying fire, and fell back upon tlio reflections of a few hours ago. Those three souls — Colin Evans', Polly Gable'a, and Jude Gable's ! What an odd circumstance that this should happen at such a time, and what did it mean? Why had Colin Evans come cycling into Glin from the world in which he had been so mysteriously at large more than fourteen months; and on so wild a night; and to the Rectory, instead of to his own home, of which he was no ornament? The Rector's gaze at the embers became intense in its concentration. There was something in the circumstance that was more than odd. He felt that, and thrilled to the feeling. The doctor had informed him that Colin Evans could not have been much less scarred by his accident if he had only rubbed his head on the gravel of the drive. Afl for the blood which smeared his face and Continued on page 3.

head, with a mere needle oue may get a supply from a very small vein. TLiifi was a coiu-lusion of the Rector's own. Miuh diri(iuicted, the Rector gut up and paced tlie room twice; theu stoppod by the chocolate and yellow safe and put liis hand on it. "AlaH !" he murmured. "God grant I may be maligning him, but I—l fear." Taking one of the candles, he went into the hall and examined Colin Evans's bicycle. It waa muddy, hut undamaged. There was a large tool hag to it, and this the Rector ventured to open. Tho usual trifles were in tlie hag, but something else, a steel chisel with a spring handle. Having looked at this for nearly a minute, the Rector nodded, sighed, and with a stern, eet face proceeded upstairs. Perhaps his suspicions were unjust after all; it' so, they were wicked aa well as unjust. He entered his own room very quietly, and approached the b©d. "Colin," he whispered. The man turned on hia pillow. "Ve —es. uir," he replied, blinking and yawning. "'Not asleep? That's a pity," said the Rector. "Rut I'm going to bed now. Are you sure that there ia nothing I can do for your" "Oii, 110, sir; you have becu most kind as it i«." "Then good-night." "Good-night, sir," said Colin Evans.

Tlie rector ckxsed the door, and sighed again on tho landing. He closed the door of his provisional bedroom noisily; but from the outside, not within. And on tiptoe, with excessive caution, and even in nis stocking feet, with his slippers in his hand, he descended the stairs, and so to the parlour again. Here, presently, he blew out the candles, and went to th« chimney seat by the fire on the right hand side. Tliere were curtains to the old-fashioned hearth, as well as seats, and ho drew the curtain on his side, so that he was completely hidden. Even a strong light in the room would not have exposed an inch of him. And thus he sat, with folded arms, thinking, hoping, and fearing, for more than an hour and a half. It was difficult to keep awake, but he did it. He was expecting one o'clock to strike when he heard something. A very stealthy something. Was it a mouse? There were two or three mice in the rectory, for Mrs Wilson had complained of them, and wished Vortigern were a cat to catch them. Or was it th© wind getting up again? This had died away soon after midnight. But the gritting of a match and the yellow glow that followed told him more than enough. He was right. He had not wronged Colin Evans with that hideous suspicion. Colin was in the parlour, and, of course, with but one purpose. Alas, and alas! He waited without personal fear, but with profound sinking at heart. And then he heard a movement at the window. The bolt was shot, and a draught charged into the room. Not the draught only. Someone had joined Colin Evans. "Well," said the someone, with a faint and metallic laugh. "This is a bit of all isn't it?*'