CHAPTER XVIII.
'He heard her musical pants.' The old tower of West Endelstow Church had reached the last weeks of its existence.

It was to be replaced by a new one from the designs of Mr.
Hewby, the architect who had sent down Stephen.

Planks and poles had arrived in the churchyard, iron bars had been thrust into the venerable crack extending down the belfry wall to the foundation, the bells had been taken down, the owls had forsaken this home of their forefathers, and six iconoclasts in white fustian, to whom a cracked edifice was a species of Mumbo Jumbo, had taken lodgings in the village previous to beginning the actual removal of the stones.
This was the day after Knight's arrival.

To enjoy for the last time the prospect seaward from the summit, the vicar, Mrs.Swancourt, Knight, and Elfride, all ascended the winding turret--Mr.Swancourt stepping forward with many loud breaths, his wife struggling along silently, but suffering none the less.

They had hardly reached the top when a large lurid cloud, palpably a reservoir of rain, thunder, and lightning, was seen to be advancing overhead from the north.
The two cautious elders suggested an immediate return, and proceeded to put it in practice as regarded themselves.
'Dear me, I wish I had not come up,' exclaimed Mrs.Swancourt.
'We shall be slower than you two in going down,' the vicar said over his shoulder, 'and so, don't you start till we are nearly at the bottom, or you will run over us and break our necks somewhere in the darkness of the turret.' Accordingly Elfride and Knight waited on the leads till the staircase should be clear.