Evening star., 1939-10-08

made great point of 1t that he was
not to be seen. Still, if he was lucky,
he might get a glimpse of Pam.
He went down in Gervase's car. The
hedges were white with hawthorn and
starred with wild roses He parked the
car in gateway and walked over the
pleasant summer fields, the packet IN
his breast pocket.
1t was towards evening. The Vicar
age was in darkness. The kitchen llrc
smoked. Outside, libby the cat recog-
nized him. and wove herself round his
ankles, like warm wool.
Hush, Tlblcts," he warned her.
Don't tell on me!'
He had planned carefully. He knew
the Choral Society met on Tuesday
evening. In the parish room the fun
was fast and furious, and they would
be at it for some time. He ran up into
the loft, where he used to play Indians
sas boy. His headdress still hung on
a nail, moth-eaten His bow and arrow
leaned against the wall The friendly
things sent a wave of nostalgia over
him for the old days. the peaceful,
happy days.
He climbed over a bale of hay and
found the place he knew of in the
beams Once he used to hide pennies in
there. He tucked the little parcel far
in, and plugged it there with spiggot
of wood. Not even the rats could get
at it now.
He let himself down the ladder into
the yard again, and crept out into the
village street. A stream of light fell
from the parlsh-room window. The
familiar tune doomed pompously out
at him:
Like the Young God Of Wine
See w1th rigoy, With rig0y shine.
1t was partly the business of the
parcel that set Miles thinking, and one
thing led to another Miles felt there
was something little queer about it.
And when he came to think of it,
there was something little queer, too.
in the fact that he had never seen
Gervase, who was supposed to be an
artist. doing any painting. He made
sketches which, he said, were for por
traits, and he wrote a great many
notes, but he never seemed to get be-
yond the stage Of negotiating for work.
Yet he was never short of money.
According to Vicarage standards. he
was positively rich, and as time went
on he and his friends spent more and
more time in the loft reached by the
hen ladder up which Miles himself
was forbidden to go Gervase said he
was catalogung old canvases up there,
things he had done as boy and was
not proud of.
Maybe one day I'll burn the lot
he said Perhaps it was true, but why
should there be so much secrecy about
it?
Through his thick glasses, Miles
watched him. Little doubts awoke,
and stirred uneaslly. For his own peace
of mind. Miles knew he had got to
see what was going on up there. Even
though he knew IN his heart he would
rather not know - If it was anything
unpleasant - it was his business to
know But there mustn't be any risk of
Gervase finding him there.
The chance came sooner than Miles
expected. He came in one evening
from an errand that had taken him to
the other side of London, and found
Gervase wearing neat dark clothes.
carrying a hard hat and a suitcase. He
said he was flying Unexpectedly to
Paris, and would Miles make him
some coffee before he went. He was
going, he said, to see his father, who
was ill.
When Gervase had gone, and it was
safe to assume he had not missed the
plane, Miles locked the studio door.
He also placed bench in front of it,
because he wanted to make sure none
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