Twenty-four
I returned to the Vicarage to find Hawes waiting for me in my study. He was pacing up and down nervously¹, andwhen I entered the room he started as though he had been shot.
“You must excuse me,” he said, wiping his forehead. “My nerves are all to pieces lately.”
“My dear fellow,” I said, “you positively² must get away for a change. We shall have you breaking down altogether,and that will never do.”
“I can’t desert my post. No, that is a thing I will never do.”
“It’s not a case of desertion. You are ill. I’m sure Haydock would agree with me.”
“Haydock—Haydock. What kind of a doctor is he? An ignorant country practitioner³.”
“I think you’re unfair to him. He has always been considered a very able man in his profession.”
“Oh! Perhaps. Yes, I dare say. But I don’t like him. However, that’s not what I came to say. I came to ask you ifyou would be kind enough to preach tonight instead of me. I—I really do not feel equal to it.”
“Why, certainly. I will take the service for you.”
“No, no. I wish to take the service. I am perfectly⁴ fit. It is only the idea of getting up in the pulpit, of all those eyesstaring at me….”
He shut his eyes and swallowed convulsively.
It is clear to me that there is something very wrong indeed the matter with Hawes. He seemed aware of mythoughts, for he opened his eyes and said quickly:
“There is nothing really wrong with me. It is just these headaches—these awful racking headaches. I wonder if youcould let me have a glass of water.”
“Certainly,” I said.
I went and fetched it myself from the tap. Ringing bells is a profitless form of exercise in our house.
I brought the water to him and he thanked me. He took from his pocket a small cardboard box, and opening it,extracted a rice paper capsule, which he swallowed with the aid of the water.
“A headache powder,” he explained.
I suddenly wondered whether Hawes might have become addicted⁵ to drugs. It would explain a great many of hispeculiarities.

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