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before the marriage, I suppose you'd hear something about his profession, or trade, or whatever it was?"

"He was a banker, that one," replied Claybourne. "A banker—that was his trade, sir. T'other gentleman, Mr. Ransford, he was a doctor—I mind that well enough, because once when him and Mr. Brake were fishing here, Thomas Joynt's wife fell downstairs and broke her leg, and they fetched him to her—he'd got it set before they'd got the reg'lar doctor out from Barthorpe yonder."

Bryce had now got all the information he wanted, and he made the old parish clerk a small present and turned to go. But another question presented itself to his mind and he re-entered the little shop.

"Your late vicar?" he said. "The one in whose family Miss Bewery was governess—where is he now? Dead?"

"Can't say whether he's dead or alive, sir," replied Claybourne. "He left this parish for another—a living in a different part of England—some years since, and I haven't heard much of him from that time to this—he never came back here once, not even to pay us a friendly visit—he was a queerish sort. But I'll tell you what, sir," he added, evidently anxious to give his visitor good value for his half-crown, "our present vicar has one of those books with the names of all the clergymen in 'em, and he'd tell you where his predecessor is now, if he's alive—name of Reverend Thomas Gilwaters, M.A.—an Oxford college man he was, and very high learned."

Bryce went back to the vicarage, returned the borrowed book, and asked to look at the registers for the