“But I—” said the Vicar.
“I know. It was this gentleman’s costume was defective. Naturally—it is my place in fact—to demand an explanation.” His voice was growing in volume. “And I must demand an explanation.”
The Angel smiled faintly at his note of anger and his sudden attitude of determination—arms tightly folded.
“I am rather new to the world,” the Angel began.
“Nineteen at least,” said Mendham. “Old enough to know better. That’s a poor excuse.”
“May I ask one question first?” said the Angel.
“Well?”
“Do you think I am a Man—like yourself? As the chequered man did.”
“If you are not a man—”
“One other question. Have you never heard of an Angel?”
“I warn you not to try that story upon me,” said Mendham, now back at his familiar crescendo.
The Vicar interrupted: “But Mendham—he
