"This is my friend Father Brown," said Flambeau. "I've often wanted you to meet him. Splendid weather, this; a little cold for Southerners like me." "Yes, I think it will keep clear," said Angus, sitting down on a violet-striped Eastern ottoman. "No," said the priest quietly, "it has begun to snow." And, indeed, as he spoke, the first few flakes, foreseen by the man of chestnuts, began to drift across the darkening windowpane.