“Come,” said the financier, rising, “I’m sure you like pictures, and Langmaid tells me you have a fancy for first editions.  Would you care to go to the gallery?”

“By all means,” the rector assented.

Their footsteps, as they crossed the hardwood floors, echoed in the empty house.  After pausing to contemplate a Millet on the stair landing, they came at last to the huge, silent gallery, where the soft but adequate light fell upon many masterpieces, ancient and modern.  And it was here, while gazing at the Corots and Bonheurs, Lawrences, Romneys, Copleys, and Halses, that Hodder’s sense of their owner’s isolation grew almost overpowering Once, glancing over his shoulder at Mr. Parr, he surprised in his eyes an expression almost of pain.

“These pictures must give you great pleasure,” he said.

“Oh,” replied the banker, in a queer voice, “I’m always glad when any one appreciates them.  I never come in here alone.”

Hodder did not reply.  They passed along to an upstairs sitting-room, which must, Hodder thought, be directly over the dining-room.  Between its windows was a case containing priceless curios.

“My wife liked this room,” Mr. Parr explained, as he opened the case.  When they had inspected it, the rector stood for a moment gazing out at a formal garden at the back of the house.  The stalks of late flowers lay withering, but here and there the leaves were still vivid, and clusters of crimson berries gleamed in the autumn sunshine.  A pergola ran down the middle, and through denuded grape-vines he caught a glimpse, at the far end, of sculptured figures and curving marble benches surrounding a pool.

“What a wonderful spot!” he exclaimed.

“My daughter Alison designed it.”

“She must have great talent,” said the rector.

“She’s gone to New York and become a landscape architect,” said his host with a perceptible dryness.  “Women in these days are apt to be everything except what the Lord intended them to be.”

They went downstairs, and Hodder took his leave, although he felt an odd reluctance to go.  Mr. Parr rang the bell.

“I’ll send you down in the motor,” he said.

“I’d like the exercise of walking,” said the rector.  “I begin to miss it already, in the city.”

“You look as if you had taken a great deal of it,” Mr. Parr declared, following him to the door.  “I hope you’ll drop in often.  Even if I’m not here, the gallery and the library are at your disposal.”

Their eyes met.

“You’re very good,” Hodder replied, and went down the steps and through the open doorway.