THE pale-faced man with the slightly Jewish cast of countenance was observed for the first time on the night of the 27th June passing through the churchyard by the Vicar, who, taking him, not unnaturally, for a loafer, ordered him out pretty sharply. He obeyed with remarkable meekness and disappeared rapidly in the direction of the house of Mrs. Bolpus. He was next seen on the following evening—a cold, clear night of moon—by the village ninny, or so it was supposed. For he came back shouting some nonsense about a lighted man, and laughed happily and quietly all night. It was, however, her ladyship who met him in broad daylight two days later, and engaged him in conversation. For she had heard of his appearance and feared that he might be a new scandal. She had intended to begin by speaking to him roundly, but something soft and flickering in his eyes stopped “We are thinking of forming a branch of the Society of Poor Lost Things in the village, and we wondered whether you would care to join?” “Strange,” he replied in a low but beautifully clear voice, “I was also thinking of forming a society. But perhaps our objects are the same! What is yours?” “Oh,” said the lady, “we aim at sweetening bitter lives.” “In that case,” said the stranger earnestly, “I would like to give all I have. It is, I fear,” he added with a smile, “only a guinea.” “You are joking, I see,” murmured the lady, signing a receipt with a gold pencil. “And now, sir, will you forgive me if I make a personal observation?” “But of course,” he replied. “You are lodging with Mrs. Bolpus. As a stranger you cannot know her reputation. If I might without impertinence suggest it, perhaps it would be wise to find a less questionable landlady.” “And yet,” mused the stranger, “she seemed poor and unhappy.” “And so she should,” cut in the lady. “I can see,” said the benefactress icily, taking the guinea out of her purse, “that you have misunderstood the objects of the Society. We assist only the deserving.” “In my Society,” said the man, sadly pocketing his coins, “we assist first the undeserving.” “So I should imagine,” sneered her ladyship, “and what do you call it?” “Oh,” said the stranger gently, turning away, “we call it the Society of the Rich Lost Things, for whom the way to the kingdom of heaven is through the eye of a needle.” “I hope,” said her ladyship to the Earl, her husband, at dinner, “that you will arrange for Mrs. Bolpus to be evicted at once.” “Evicted!” said the Earl; “but haven’t you heard the news? She died this morning.” “Died!” gasped the lady; “then what was the Jew with the beard doing in her house?” “The Jew with the beard?” asked her husband. “I was there to-day and didn’t hear of anyone.” “Quite!” said the Earl, “but wait! Is it perhaps the tramp that the Vicar saw in the churchyard and poor Geordie Brown’s ‘lighted man’? I think myself that in both cases it was just imagination.” “Perhaps,” replied the lady after a long pause, “but all the same I shall resign my chairmanship of the branch of the Poor Lost Things.” “Now what in the name of God——,” began the Earl. “Hush,” almost screamed his wife. |