For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. " "Mr. We all get deceived sometimes. He found that the skiff had been dashed against one of the buttresses of the bridge.
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