“And you’ve been out without an overcoat!  Henry, how could you?  Well, I must get you into bed at once—­instantly, or I shall have you down with pneumonia or something to-morrow!”

“Have they cleared off?” he repeated.

“Yes, of course,” she said.

“When are they coming back?” he asked.

“I don’t think they’ll come back,” she replied.  “I think they’ve had enough.  I think I’ve made them see that it’s best to leave well alone.  Did you ever see such toast as that curate made?”

“Alice, I assure you,” he said, later—­he was in a boiling bath—­“I assure you it’s all a mistake, I’ve never seen the woman before.”

“Of course you haven’t,” she said calmingly.  “Of course you haven’t.  Besides, even if you had, it serves her right.  Every one could see she’s a nagging woman.  And they seemed quite prosperous.  They’re hysterical—­ that’s what’s the matter with them, all of them—­except the eldest, the one that never spoke.  I rather liked him.”

“But I haven’t!” he reiterated, splashing his positive statement into the water.

“My dear, I know you haven’t.”

But he guessed that she was humouring him.  He guessed that she was determined to keep him at all costs.  And he had a disconcerting glimpse of the depths of utter unscrupulousness that sometimes disclose themselves in the mind of a good and loving woman.

“Only I hope there won’t be any more of them!” she added dryly.

Ah!  That was the point!  He conceived the possibility of the rascal Leek having committed scores and scores of sins, all of which might come up against him.  His affrighted vision saw whole regions populated by disconsolate widows of Henry Leek and their offspring, ecclesiastical and otherwise.  He knew what Leek had been.  Westminster Abbey was a strange goal for Leek to have achieved.

* * * * *

CHAPTER IX

A Glossy Male

The machine was one of those electric contrivances that do their work noiselessly and efficiently, like a garrotter or the guillotine.  No odour, no teeth-disturbing grind of rack-and-pinion, no trumpeting, with that machine!  It arrived before the gate with such absence of sound that Alice, though she was dusting in the front-room, did not hear it.  She heard nothing till the bell discreetly tinkled.  Justifiably assuming that the tinkler was the butcher’s boy, she went to the door with her apron on, and even with the duster in her hand.  A handsome, smooth man stood on the step, and the electric carriage made a background for him.  He was a dark man, with curly black hair, and a moustache to match, and black eyes.  His silk hat, of an incredible smooth newness, glittered over his glittering hair and eyes.  His overcoat was lined with astrakan, and this important fact was casually betrayed at the lapels and at the