“I cannot recall your name,” he said, “but I remember to have seen you in your school.”

“My name is Bradley Headstone, sir,” he replied, backing into a more retired place.

“I ought to have remembered it,” said Mr. Milvey, giving him his hand. “I hope you are well? A little overworked, I am afraid?”

“Yes, I am overworked just at present, sir.”

“Had no play in your last holiday time?”

“No, sir.”

“All work and no play, Mr. Headstone, will not make dulness, in your case, I dare say; but it will make dyspepsia, if you don’t take care.”

“I will endeavour to take care, sir. Might I beg leave to speak to you, outside, a moment?”

“By all means.”

It was evening, and the office was well lighted. The schoolmaster, who had never remitted his watch on Lightwood’s door, now moved by another door to a corner without, where there was more shadow than light; and said, plucking at his gloves:

“One of your ladies, sir, mentioned within my hearing a name that I am acquainted with; I may say, well acquainted with. The name of the sister of an old pupil of mine. He was my pupil for a long time, and has got on and gone upward rapidly. The name of Hexam. The name of Lizzie Hexam.” He seemed to be a shy man, struggling against nervousness, and spoke in a very constrained way. The break he set between his last two sentences was quite embarrassing to his hearer.

“Yes,” replied Mr. Milvey. “We are going down to see her.”

“I gathered as much, sir. I hope there is nothing amiss with the sister of my old pupil? I hope no bereavement has befallen her. I hope she is in no affliction? Has lost no — relation?”

Mr. Milvey thought this a man with a very odd manner, and a dark downward look; but he answered in his usual open way.

“I am glad to tell you, Mr. Headstone, that the sister of your old pupil has not sustained any such loss. You thought I might be going down to bury some one?”

“That may have been the connexion of ideas, sir, with your clerical character, but I was not conscious of it. — Then you are not, sir?”

A man with a very odd manner indeed, and with a lurking look that was quite oppressive.

“No. In fact,” said Mr. Milvey, “since you are so interested in the sister of your old pupil, I may as well tell you that I am going down to marry her.”

The schoolmaster started back.

“Not to marry her, myself,” said Mr. Milvey, with a smile, “because I have a wife already. To perform the marriage service at her wedding.”

Bradley Headstone caught hold of a pillar behind him. If Mr. Milvey knew an ashy face when he saw it, he saw it then.