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"Will you be needing the VERY 'eavy boots with 'obnails--
Swiss, I fancy, sir--or your ordinary shooting boots?"
"And when may I expect you back, sir?" asked Merkle as the moment
for departure drew near.
"God knows," said Benham, "I don't."
"Then will there be any address for forwarding letters, sir?"
Benham hadn't thought of that. For a moment he regarded Merkle's
scrupulous respect with a transient perplexity.
"I'll let you know, Merkle," he said. "I'll let you know."
For some days at least, notes, telephone messages, engagements, all
this fuss and clamour about nothing, should clamour for him in
vain. . . .

11

"But how closely," cried White, in a mood of cultivated enthusiasm;
"how closely must all the poor little stories that we tell to-day
follow in the footsteps of the Great Exemplars! A little while ago
and the springtime freshness of Tobias irradiated the page. Now
see! it is Christian--."
Indeed it looked extremely like Christian as Benham went up across
the springy turf from Epsom Downs station towards the crest of the
hill.


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