before　a　mysterious　chieftain　with　an　ancient　destiny　and　a　diadem　of　evil　starswhen　they　are　really　trembling　before　a　guttersnipe　who　was　a　pettifogger　and　a　pawnbroker　not　twelve　years　ago。　　I　think　it　very　typical　of　the　real　case　against　our　aristocracy　as　it　is；　and　as　it　will　be　till　God　sends　us　braver　men。
  Mr　Nutt　put　down　the　manuscript　and　called　out　with　unusual　sharpness：　　〃Miss　Barlow；　please　take　down　a　letter　to　Mr　Finn。〃
  DEAR　FINN；You　must　be　mad；　we　can't　touch　this。　　I　wanted　vampires　and　the　bad　old　days　and　aristocracy　hand…in…hand　with　superstition。　　They　like　that　But　you　must　know　the　Exmoors　would　never　forgive　this。　　And　what　would　our　people　say　then；　I　should　like　to　know！　　Why；　Sir　Simon　is　one　of　Exmoor's　greatest　pals；　and　it　would　ruin　that　cousin　of　the　Eyres　that's　standing　for　us　at　Bradford。　　Besides；　old　Soap…Suds　was　sick　enough　at　not　getting　his　peerage　last　year；　he'd　sack　me　by　wire　if　I　lost　him　it　with　such　lunacy　as　this。　　And　what　about　Duffey？　　He's　doing　us　some　rattling　articles　on　〃The　Heel　of　the　Norman。〃　And　how　can　he　write　about　Normans　if　the　man's　only　a　solicitor？　　Do　be　reasonable。Yours；　E。　NUTT。
  As　Miss　Barlow　rattled　away　cheerfully；　he　crumpled　up　the　copy　and　tossed　it　into　the　waste…paper　basket；　but　not　before　he　had；　automatically　and　by　force　of　habit；　altered　the　word　〃God〃　to　the　word　〃circumstances。〃
  EIGHT
  The　Perishing　of　the　Pendragons
  FATHER　BROWN　was　in　no　mood　for　adventures。　　He　had　lately　fallen　ill　with　over…work；　and　when　he　began　to　recover；　his　friend　Flambeau　had　taken　him　on　a　cruise　in　a　small　yacht　with　Sir　Cecil　Fanshaw；　a　young　Cornish　squire　and　an　enthusiast　for　Cornish　coast　scenery。　　But　Brown　was　still　rather　weak；　he　was　no　very　happy　sailor；　and　though　he　was　never　of　the　sort　that　either　grumbles　or　breaks　down；　his　spirits　did　not　rise　above　patience　and　civility。　　When　the　other　two　men　praised　the　ragged　violet　sunset　or　the　ragged　volcanic　crags；　he　agreed　with　them。　　When　Flambeau　pointed　out　a　rock　shaped　like　a　dragon；　he　looked　at　it　and　thought　it　very　like　a　dragon。　　When　Fanshaw　more　excitedly　indicated　a　rock　that　was　like　Merlin；　he　looked　at　it；　and　signified　assent。　　When　Flambeau　asked　whether　this　rocky　gate　of　the　twisted　river　was　not　the　gate　of　Fairyland；　he　said　〃Yes。〃　　He　heard　the　most　important　things　and　the　most　trivial　with　the　same　tasteless　absorption。　　He　heard　that　the　coast　was　death　to　all　but　careful　seamen；　he　also　heard　that　the　ship's　cat　was　asleep。　　He　heard　that　Fanshaw　couldn't　find　his　cigar…holder　anywhere；　he　also　heard　the　pilot　deliver　the　oracle　〃Both　eyes　bright；　she's　all　right；　one　eye　winks；　down　she　sinks。〃　　He　heard　Flambeau　say　to　Fanshaw　that　no　doubt　this　meant　the　pilot　must　keep　both　eyes　open　and　be　spry。　　And　he　heard　Fanshaw　say　to　Flambeau　that；　oddly　enough；　it　didn't　mean　this：　　it　meant　that　while　they　saw　two　of　the　coast　lights；　one　near　and　the　other　distant；　exactly　side　by　side；　they　were　in　the　right　river…channel；　but　that　if　one　light　was　hidden　behind　the　other；　they　were　going　on　the　rocks。　　He　heard　Fanshaw　add　that　his　country　was　full　of　such　quaint　fables　and　idioms；　it　was　the　very　home　of　romance；　he　even　pitted　this　part　of　Cornwall　against　Devonshire；　as　a　claimant　to　the　laurels　of　Elizabethan　seamanship。　　According　to　him　there　had　been　captains　among　these　coves　and　islets　compared　with　whom　Drake　was　practically　a　landsman。　　He　heard　Flambeau　laugh；　and　ask　if；　perhaps；　the　adventurous　title　of　〃Westward　Ho！〃　only　meant　that　all　Devonshire　men　wished　they　were　living　in　Cornwall。　　He　heard　Fanshaw　say　there　was　no　need　to　be　silly；　that　not　only　had　Cornish　captains　been　heroes；　but　that　they　were　heroes　still：　　that　near　that　very　spot
  there　was　an　old　admiral；　now　retired；　who　was　scarred　by　thrilling　voyages　full　of　adventures；　and　who　had　in　his　youth　found　the　last　group　of　eight　Pacific　Islands　that　was　added　to　the　chart　of　the　world。　　This　Cecil　Fanshaw　was；　in　person；　of　the　kind　that　commonly　urges　such　crude　but　pleasing　enthusiasms；　a　very　young　man；　light…haired；　high…coloured；　with　an　eager　profile；　with　a　boyish　bravado　of　spirits；　but　an　almost　girlish　delicacy　of　tint　and　type。　　The　big　shoulders；　black　brows　and　black　mousquetaire　swagger　of　Flambeau　were　a　great　contrast。
  All　these　trivialities　Brown　heard　and　saw；　but　heard　them　as　a　tired　man　hears　a　tune　in　the　railway　wheels；　or　saw　them　as　a　sick　man　sees　the　pattern　of　his　wall…paper。　　No　one　can　calculate　the　turns　of　mood　in　convalescence：　　but　Father　Brown's　depression　must　have　had　a　great　deal　to　do　with　his　mere　unfamiliarity　with　the　sea。　　For　as　the　river　mouth　narrowed　like　the　neck　of　a　bottle；　and　the　water　grew　calmer　and　the　air　warmer　and　more　earthly；　he　seemed　to　wake　up　and　take　notice　like　a　baby。　　They　had　reached　that　phase　just　after　sunset　when　air　and　water　both　look　bright；　but　earth　and　all　its　growing　things　look　almost　black　by　comparison。　　About　this　particular　　evening；　however；　there　was　something　exceptional。　　It　was　one　of　those　rare　atmospheres　in　which　a　smoked…glass　slide　seems　to　have　been　slid　away　from　between　us　and　Nature；　so　that　even　dark　colours　on　that　day　look　more　gorgeous　than　bright　colours　on　cloudier　days。　　The　trampled　earth　of　the　river…banks　and　the　peaty　stain　in　the　pools　did　not　look　drab　but　glowing　umber；　and　the　dark　woods　astir　in　the　breeze　did　not　look；　as　usual；　dim　blue　with　mere　depth　of　distance；　but　more　like　wind…tumbled　masses　of　some　vivid　violet　blossom。　　This　magic　clearness　and　intensity　in　the　colours　was　further　forced　on　Brown's　slowly　reviving　senses　by　something　romantic　and　even　secret　in　the　very　form　of　the　landscape。
  The　river　was　still　well　wide　and　deep　enough　for　a　pleasure　boat　so　small　as　theirs；　but　the　curves　of　the　country…side　suggested　that　it　was　closing　in　on　either　hand；　the　woods　seemed　to　be　making　broken　and　flying　attempts　at　bridge…buildingas　if　the　boat　were　passing　from　the　romance　of　a　valley　to　the　romance　of　a　hollow　and　so　to　the　supreme　romance　of　a　tunnel。　　Beyond　this　mere　look　of　things　there　was　little　for　Brown's　freshening　fancy　to　feed　on；　he　saw　no　human　beings；　except　some　gipsies　trailing　along　the　river　bank；　with　faggots　and　osiers　cut　in　the　forest；　and　one　sight　no　longer　unconventional；　but　in　such　remote　parts　still　uncommon：　　a　dark…haired　lady；　bare…headed；　and　paddling　her　own　canoe。　　If　Father　Brown　ever　attached　any　importance　to　either　of　these；　he　certainly　forgot　them　at　the　next　turn　of　the　river　which　brought　in　sight　a　singular　object。
  The　water　seemed　to　widen　and　split；　being　cloven　by　the　dark　wedge　of　a　fish…shaped　and　wooded　islet。　　With　the　rate　at　which　they　went；　the　islet　seemed　to　swim　towards　them　like　a　ship；　a　ship　with　a　very　high　prowor；　to　speak　more　strictly；　a　very　high　funnel。　　For　at　the　extreme　point　nearest　them　stood　up　an　odd…looking　building；　unlike　anything　they　could　remember　or　connect　with　any　purpose。　　It　was　not　specially　high；　but　it　was　too　high　for　its　breadth　to　be　called　anything　but　a　tower。　　Yet　it　appeared　to　be　built　entirely　of　wood；　and　that　in　a　most　unequal　and　eccentric　way。　　Some　of　the　planks　and　beams　were　of　good；　seasoned　oak；　some　of　such　wood　cut　raw　and　recent；　some　again　of　white　pinewood；　and　a　great　deal　more　of　the　same　sort　of　wood　painted　black　with　tar。　　These　black　beams　were　set　crooked　or　crisscross　at　all　kinds　of　angles；　giving　the　whole　a　most　patchy　and　puzzling　appearance。　　There　were　one　or　two　windows；　which　appeared　to　be　coloured　and　leaded　in　an　old…fashioned　but　more　elaborate　style。　　The　travellers　looked　at　it　with　that　paradoxical　feeling　we　have　when　something　reminds　us　of　something；　and　yet　we　are　certain　it　is　something　very　different。
  Father　Brown；　even　when　he　was　mystified；　was　clever　in　analysing　his　own　mystification。　　And　he　found　himself　reflecting　that　the　oddity　seemed　to　consist　in　a　particular　shape　cut　out　in　an　incongruous　material；　as　if　one　saw　a　top…hat　made　of　tin；　or　a　frock…coat　cut　out　of　tartan。　　He　was　sure　he　had　seen　timbers　of　different　tints　arranged　like　that　somewhere；　but　never　in　such　architectural　proportions。　　The　next　moment　a　glimpse　through　the　dark　trees　told　him　all　he　wanted　to　know　and　he　laughed。　　Through　a　gap　in　the　foliage　there　appeared　for　a　moment　one　of　those　old　wooden　houses；　faced　with　black　beams；　which　are　still　to　be　found　here　and　there　in　England；　but　which　most　of　us　see　imitated　in　some　show　called　〃Old　London〃　or　〃Shakespeare's　England'。　　It　was　in　view　only　long　enough　for　the　priest　to　see　that；　however　old…fashioned；　it　was　a　comfortable　and　well…kept　country…house；　with　flower…beds　in　front　of　it。　　It　had　none　of　the　piebald　and　crazy　look　of　the　tower　that　seemed　made　out　of　its　refuse。
  〃What　on　earth's　this？〃　said　Flambeau；　who　was　still　staring　at　the　tower。
  Fanshaw's　eyes　were　shining；　and　he　spoke　triumphantly。　　〃Aha！　you've　not　seen　a　place　quite　like　this　before；　I　fancy；　that's　why　I've　brought　you　here；　my　friend。　　Now　you　shall　see　whether　I　exaggerate　about　t