‘Why not?’ Trevelyan could perceive at once that the authority which he had once respected had gone from the man.  Bozzle away from his own home, out on business, with his coat buttoned over his breast, and his best hat in his hand, was aware that he commanded respect and he could carry himself accordingly.  He knew himself to be somebody, and could be easy, self-confident, confidential, severe, authoritative, or even arrogant, as the circumstances of the moment might demand.  But he had been found with his coat off, and a baby in his arms, and he could not recover himself.  ’I do not suppose that anybody will question my right to have the care of my own child,’ said Trevelyan.

‘If you would have gone to Mr Skint, sir ,’ suggested Bozzle.  ’There ain’t no smarter gent in all the profession, sir, than Mr Skint.’

Mr Trevelyan made no reply to this, but walked on in silence, with his minister at his elbow.  He was very wretched, understanding well the degradation to which he was subjecting himself in discussing his wife’s conduct with this man; but with whom else could he discuss it?  The man seemed to be meaner now than he had been before he had been seen in his own home.  And Trevelyan was conscious too that he himself was not in outward appearance as he used to be, that he was ill-dressed, and haggard, and worn, and visibly a wretched being.  How can any man care to dress himself with attention who is always alone, and always miserable when alone?  During the months which had passed over him since he had sent his wife away from him, his very nature had been altered, and he himself was aware of the change.  As he went about, his eyes were ever cast downwards, and he walked with a quick shuffling gait, and he suspected others, feeling that he himself was suspected.  And all work had ceased with him.  Since she had left him he had not read a single book that was worth the reading.  And he knew it all.  He was conscious that he was becoming disgraced and degraded.  He would sooner have shot himself than have walked into his club, or even have allowed himself to be seen by daylight in Pall Mall, or Piccadilly.  He had taken in his misery to drinking little drops of brandy in the morning, although he knew well that there was no shorter road to the devil than that opened by such a habit.  He looked up for a moment at Bozzle, and then asked him a question.  ‘Where is he now?’

’You mean the Colonel, sir.  He up in town, sir, a minding of his parliamentary duties.  He have been up all this month, sir.’

‘They haven’t met?’

Bozzle paused a moment before he replied, and then smiled as he spoke.  ’It is so hard, to say, sir.  Ladies is so cute and cunning.  I’ve watched as sharp as watching can go, pretty near.  I’ve put a youngster on at each bend, and both of ’em’d hear a mouse stirring in his sleep.  I ain’t got no evidence, Mr Trevelyan.  But if you ask me my opinion, why in course they’ve been together somewhere.  It stands to reason, Mr Trevelyan; don’t it?’ And Bozzle as he said this smiled almost aloud.