"I think that 'The Rose and Crown' will continue to be an inn. That is what I meant, Mr Dean."
The Dean shrugged his shoulders.
"If you choose to persist in thinking so, in spite of my assurance to the contrary, that is your affair, not mine."
The Dean turned to go, as if the interview were already at an end. Mr Boulter coughed behind his hand.
"I should like to have one word with you before you go." The Dean faced round. "Then am I to tell my tale?"
"Your tale? What tale?"
"About the Bishop, Mr Dean."
"About the Bishop?" The Dean looked the innkeeper up and down. A vague suspicion crossed his mind. Already, at this hour of the morning, could the man be drunk? There was nothing in the fellow's bearing to denote anything of the kind. And, indeed, it was matter of common notoriety that, personally, the landlord of "The Rose and Crown" was an abstemious man. But, none the less, there was at that particular moment something about Mr Boulter's manner which the Dean was at a loss to understand. "What do you mean by your tale about the Bishop, sir?"
For a moment or two Mr Boulter continued to turn his hat round and round in his hands, as if he found some difficulty in choosing the exact words in which to frame what he wished to say.
"I understand," he began at last, "that yesterday the Bishop preached a sermon upon temperance."