"B—but," stammered Mr. Peters, "there's no sense in that! Pull yourself together, Mr. Bangs—Mr. Hedderwick, I mean. You say you have done nothing wrong. Why not face her and get it over at once like a man?"
Robert, pallid in face and soul, gripped him more tightly, his knees shaking. The desperate need of the moment scorned the veneer of discretion. "You said you understood," he hissed fiercely. "Do you always stand up to Mrs. Peters?"
The vicar avoided his eye, but his answer brought hope to Robert. "Come along!" he said briskly, going to the door. He threw it open, and was disappointed to find his wife in the hall. That way of escape was blocked. "A caller, my dear!" he said, trying to cover his embarrassment. "If I'm wanted, I shall be in here." He returned to the room and closed the door. "You're caught, Mr. Hedderwick, I'm afraid. I'm very sorry, but you'll have to face it, after all."
"No, no!" said Robert. "Isn't there another door—a window?"
"The chauffeur's outside. Yes; by jove! there's the buttery hatch. Behind the screen! Get through that and out of the pantry window! It opens on the back. After that you must look out for yourself. I won't tell any lies on your behalf, but—but I'll try to give you a—a sporting start!"
Robert breathed a blessing on his head. Then, with some ado, he lifted the hatch and crawled through. The vicar closed it behind him, heard the pantry window open with a noiseless chuckle, and then braced himself to face a pair of indignant ladies. He had not long to wait, for, a minute after Robert had gained the road, Mrs. Peters introduced his visitor. Mrs. Hedderwick glanced round the room much as a terrier who has been told there is a rat about, and without waiting for apologies or declarations, said with an extraordinary bitterness, "Where is my husband?"
"He was here a moment ago," replied the vicar, nervous, but not without a certain enjoyment of the scene. "I suppose that you are looking forward to—a reunion—a——"
"I am," said Mrs. Hedderwick with a vindictive quietness. "Where is he? Hiding under the table?"
"My dear madam," expostulated the vicar, suppressing a wish to get there himself, so alarming was her eye, "do you imagine——"
"I want to know where he is!" interrupted the lady, still dangerously calm and determined. "Mrs. Peters most kindly—most kindly telephoned to say that he was in Shereling, and she has just said that she left him here. Where is he?"