Some　of　the　tales；　indeed；　are　not　fit　for　public　print；　such　as　the　story　of　the　Scarlet　Nuns；　the　abominable　story　of　the　Spotted　Dog；　or　the　thing　that　was　done　in　the　quarry。　　And　all　this　red　roll　of　impieties　came　from　his　thin；　genteel　lips　rather　primly　than　otherwise；　as　he　sat　sipping　the　wine　out　of　his　tall；　thin　glass。
  I　could　see　that　the　big　man　opposite　me　was　trying；　if　anything；　to　stop　him；　but　he　evidently　held　the　old　gentleman　in　considerable　respect；　and　could　not　venture　to　do　so　at　all　abruptly。　　And　the　little　priest　at　the　other　end　of　the…table；　though　free　from　any　such　air　of　embarrassment；　looked　steadily　at　the　table；　and　seemed　to　listen　to　the　recital　with　great　painas　well　as　he　might。
  〃You　don't　seem；〃　I　said　to　the　narrator；　〃to　be　very　fond　of　the　Exmoor　pedigree。〃
  He　looked　at　me　a　moment；　his　lips　still　prim；　but　whitening　and　tightening；　then　he　deliberately　broke　his　long　pipe　and　glass　on　the　table　and　stood　up；　the　very　picture　of　a　perfect　gentleman　with　the　framing　temper　of　a　fiend。
  〃These　gentlemen；〃　he　said；　〃will　tell　you　whether　I　have　cause　to　like　it。　　The　curse　of　the　Eyres　of　old　has　lain　heavy　on　this　country；　and　many　have　suffered　from　it。　　They　know　there　are　none　who　have　suffered　from　it　as　I　have。〃　　And　with　that　he　crushed　a　piece　of　the　fallen　glass　under　his　heel；　and　strode　away　among　the　green　twilight　of　the　twinkling　apple…trees。
  〃That　is　an　extraordinary　old　gentleman；〃　I　said　to　the　other　two；　〃do　you　happen　to　know　what　the　Exmoor　family　has　done　to　him？　　Who　is　he？〃
  The　big　man　in　black　was　staring　at　me　with　the　wild　air　of　a　baffled　bull；　he　did　not　at　first　seem　to　take　it　in。　　Then　he　said　at　last；　〃Don't　you　know　who　he　is？〃
  I　reaffirmed　my　ignorance；　and　there　was　another　silence；　then　the　little　priest　said；　still　looking　at　the　table；　〃That　is　the　Duke　of　Exmoor。〃
  Then；　before　I　could　collect　my　scattered　senses；　he　added　equally　quietly；　but　with　an　air　of　regularizing　things：　　〃My　friend　here　is　Doctor　Mull；　the　Duke's　librarian。　　My　name　is　Brown。〃
  〃But；〃　I　stammered；　〃if　that　is　the　Duke；　why　does　he　damn　all　the　old　dukes　like　that？〃
  〃He　seems　really　to　believe；〃　answered　the　priest　called　Brown；　〃that　they　have　left　a　curse　on　him。〃　Then　he　added；　with　some　irrelevance；　〃That's　why　he　wears　a　wig。〃
  It　was　a　few　moments　before　his　meaning　dawned　on　me。　　〃You　don't　mean　that　fable　about　the　fantastic　ear？〃　I　demanded。　　〃I've　heard　of　it；　of　course；　but　surely　it　must　be　a　superstitious　yarn　spun　out　of　something　much　simpler。　　I've　sometimes　thought　it　was　a　wild　version　of　one　of　those　mutilation　stories。　　They　used　to　crop　criminals'　ears　in　the　sixteenth　century。〃
  〃I　hardly　think　it　was　that；〃　answered　the　little　man　thoughtfully；　〃but　it　is　not　outside　ordinary　science　or　natural　law　for　a　family　to　have　some　deformity　frequently　reappearingsuch　as　one　ear　bigger　than　the　other。〃
  The　big　librarian　had　buried　his　big　bald　brow　in　his　big　red　hands；　like　a　man　trying　to　think　out　his　duty。　　〃No；〃　he　groaned。　　〃You　do　the　man　a　wrong　after　all。　　Understand；　I've　no　reason　to　defend　him；　or　even　keep　faith　with　him。　　He　has　been　a　tyrant　to　me　as　to　everybody　else。　　Don't　fancy　because　you　see　him　sitting　here　that　he　isn't　a　great　lord　in　the　worst　sense　of　the　word。　　He　would　fetch　a　man　a　mile　to　ring　a　bell　a　yard　offif　it　would　summon　another　man　three　miles　to　fetch　a　matchbox　three　yards　off。　　He　must　have　a　footman　to　carry　his　walking…stick；　a　body　servant　to　hold　up　his　opera…glasses〃
  〃But　not　a　valet　to　brush　his　clothes；〃　cut　in　the　priest；　with　a　curious　dryness；　〃for　the　valet　would　want　to　brush　his　wig；　too。〃
  The　librarian　turned　to　him　and　seemed　to　forget　my　presence；　he　was　strongly　moved　and；　I　think；　a　little　heated　with　wine。　　〃I　don't　know　how　you　know　it；　Father　Brown；〃　he　said；　〃but　you　are　right。　　He　lets　the　whole　world　do　everything　for　himexcept　dress　him。　　And　that　he　insists　on　doing　in　a　literal　solitude　like　a　desert。　　Anybody　is　kicked　out　of　the　house　without　a　character　who　is　so　much　as　found　near　his　dressing…room　door。；
  〃He　seems　a　pleasant　old　party；〃　I　remarked。
  〃No；〃　replied　Dr　Mull　quite　simply；　〃and　yet　that　is　just　what　I　mean　by　saying　you　are　unjust　to　him　after　all。　　Gentlemen；　the　Duke　does　really　feel　the　bitterness　about　the　curse　that　he　uttered　just　now。　　He　does；　with　sincere　shame　and　terror；　hide　under　that　purple　wig　something　he　thinks　it　would　blast　the　sons　of　man　to　see。　　I　know　it　is　so；　and　I　know　it　is　not　a　mere　natural　disfigurement；　like　a　criminal　mutilation；　or　a　hereditary　disproportion　in　the　features。　　I　know　it　is　worse　than　that；　because　a　man　told　me　who　was　present　at　a　scene　that　no　man　could　invent；　where　a　stronger　man　than　any　of　us　tried　to　defy　the　secret；　and　was　scared　away　from　it。〃
  I　opened　my　mouth　to　speak；　but　Mull　went　on　in　oblivion　of　me；　speaking　out　of　the　cavern　of　his　hands。　　〃I　don't　mind　telling　you；　Father；　because　it's　really　more　defending　the　poor　Duke　than　giving　him　away。　　Didn't　you　ever　hear　of　the　time　when　he　very　nearly　lost　all　the　estates？〃
  The　priest　shook　his　head；　and　the　librarian　proceeded　to　tell　the　tale　as　he　had　heard　it　from　his　predecessor　in　the　same　post；　who　had　been　his　patron　and　instructor；　and　whom　he　seemed　to　trust　implicitly。　　Up　to　a　certain　point　it　was　a　common　enough　tale　of　the　decline　of　a　great　family's　fortunesthe　tale　of　a　family　lawyer。　　His　lawyer；　however；　had　the　sense　to　cheat　honestly；　if　the　expression　explains　itself。　　Instead　of　using　funds　he　held　in　trust；　he　took　advantage　of　the　Duke's　carelessness　to　put　the　family　in　a　financial　hole；　in　which　it　might　be　necessary　for　the　Duke　to　let　him　hold　them　in　reality。
  The　lawyer's　name　was　Isaac　Green；　but　the　Duke　always　called　him　Elisha；　presumably　in　reference　to　the　fact　that　he　was　quite　bald；　though　certainly　not　more　than　thirty。　　He　had　risen　very　rapidly；　but　from　very　dirty　beginnings；　being　first　a　〃nark〃　or　informer；　and　then　a　money…lender：　　but　as　solicitor　to　the　Eyres　he　had　the　sense；　as　I　say；　to　keep　technically　straight　until　he　was　ready　to　deal　the　final　blow。　　The　blow　fell　at　dinner；　and　the　old　librarian　said　he　should　never　forget　the　very　look　of　the　lampshades　and　the　decanters；　as　the　little　lawyer；　with　a　steady　smile；　proposed　to　the　great　landlord　that　they　should　halve　the　estates　between　them。　　The　sequel　certainly　could　not　be　overlooked；　for　the　Duke；　in　dead　silence；　smashed　a　decanter　on　the　man's　bald　head　as　suddenly　as　I　had　seen　him　smash　the　glass　that　day　in　the　orchard。　　It　left　a　red　triangular　scar　on　the　scalp；　and　the　lawyer's　eyes　altered；　but　not　his　smile。
  He　rose　tottering　to　his　feet；　and　struck　back　as　such　men　do　strike。　　〃I　am　glad　of　that；〃　he　said；　〃for　now　I　can　take　the　whole　estate。　　The　law　will　give　it　to　me。〃
  Exmoor；　it　seems；　was　white　as　ashes；　but　his　eyes　still　blazed。　　〃The　law　will　give　it　you；〃　he　said；　〃but　you　will　not　take　it。。。。　Why　not？　　Why？　because　it　would　mean　the　crack　of　doom　for　me；　and　if　you　take　it　I　shall　take　off　my　wig。。。。　　Why；　you　pitiful　plucked　fowl；　anyone　can　see　your　bare　head。　　But　no　man　shall　see　mine　and　live。〃
  Well；　you　may　say　what　you　like　and　make　it　mean　what　you　like。　　But　Mull　swears　it　is　the　solemn　fact　that　the　lawyer；　after　shaking　his　knotted　fists　in　the　air　for　an　instant；　simply　ran　from　the　room　and　never　reappeared　in　the　countryside；　and　since　then　Exmoor　has　been　feared　more　for　a　warlock　than　even　for　a　landlord　and　a　magistrate。
  Now　Dr　Mull　told　his　story　with　rather　wild　theatrical　gestures；　and　with　a　passion　I　think　at　least　partisan。　　I　was　quite　conscious　of　the　possibility　that　the　whole　was　the　extravagance　of　an　old　braggart　and　gossip。　　But　before　I　end　this　half　of　my　discoveries；　I　think　it　due　to　Dr　Mull　to　record　that　my　two　first　inquiries　have　confirmed　his　story。　　I　learned　from　an　old　apothecary　in　the　village　that　there　was　a　bald　man　in　evening　dress；　giving　the　name　of　Green；　who　came　to　him　one　night　to　have　a　three…cornered　cut　on　his　forehead　plastered。　　And　I　learnt　from　the　legal　records　and　old　newspapers　that　there　was　a　lawsuit　threatened；　and　at　least　begun；　by　one　Green　against　the　Duke　of　Exmoor。
  Mr　Nutt；　of　the　Daily　Reformer；　wrote　some　highly　incongruous　words　across　the　top　of　the　copy；　made　some　highly　mysterious　marks　down　the　side　of　it；　and　called　to　Miss　Barlow　in　the　same　loud；　monotonous　voice：　　〃Take　down　a　letter　to　Mr　Finn。〃
  DEAR　FINN；Your　copy　will　do；　but　I　have　had　to　headline　it　a　bit；　and　our　public　would　never　stand　a　Romanist　priest　in　the　story　you　must　keep　your　eye　on　the　suburbs。　　I've　altered　him　to　Mr　Brown；　a　Spiritualist。
  Yours；
  E。　　NUTT。
  A　day　or　two　afterward　found　the　active　and　judicious　editor　examining；　with　blue　eyes　that　seemed　to　grow　rounder　and　rounder；　the　second　instalment　of　Mr　Finn's　tale　of　mysteries　in　high　life。　　It　began　with　the　words：