It had struck the clergyman, leaving a scar.
Gaston now raised his hat.

As he passed, the rector looked after him, puzzled; the words he had heard addressed to the effigy returning.

His eyes followed the young man to the gate, and presently, with a quick lifting of the shoulders, he said: "Robert Belward!" Then added: "Impossible! But he is a Belward." He saw Gaston mount, then entered and went slowly up the aisle.

He paused beside the tomb of that other Belward.

His wrinkled hand rested on it.
"That is it," he said at last.