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Updated: May 29, 2025
"In such a strange case as this I believe everything should be taken carefully into consideration," observed Malling in his most prosaic voice. The rector's attention seemed to be suddenly fixed and powerfully concentrated. The feverish excitement he had been displaying gave place to a calmer, more natural mood. "Tell me," he said, "do you think your knowledge can help me?
"If I am worth anything at all," he suddenly cried out, "if I have gained any force of character, any power for good at all, I owe it all to my rector's self-sacrificing endeavors on my behalf of course, through God's blessing." "Then," said Malling, "you think that Mr. Harding changed you by his influence?" "He helped me to develop, he brought me on. Jealousy was unknown to him.
"But it's a terrible thing to see too clearly!" continued Chichester, almost as if talking to himself, absorbed. "A terrible thing!" He looked up at Malling, and almost solemnly he said: "Are you still going on with all those investigations?" "When I have any spare time, I often spend some of it in that sort of work," answered Malling, lightly.
Down came the window; the tranquil gleam of the light shone as before; then abruptly all was dark. Malling realized at once what was happening in the curate's lodgings. As he paused, gazing at the dark house, he knew that the miserable Marcus Harding was within, constrained to endure the observation which, to use his own hideous but poignant phrase, was "eating him away."
The man did so, and opened the door, showing a domestic scene highly creditable to the much maligned British aristocracy Lord Mansford seated alone with his wife, in evidently amicable conversation. After a few polite words he made Malling sit down beside her, and, saying he would have a cigarette in the foyer, he left them together.
Chichester will not wish to go." "Are you certain of that?" asked Malling, remembering the curate's remark in Horton Street, that perhaps he would not remain at St. Joseph's much longer. The rector turned his head and fixed his eyes upon Malling. "Has he said anything to you about leaving?" he asked, suddenly raising his voice, as if under the influence of excitement. "But of course he has not."
The same remark applies to the Crown Inn, where Jingle stopped on the same occasion. At Maidstone there is a "White Lion," and at Town Malling there is the "Swan." Which of these is the original of the inn where Mr.
"I'll tell Mr. Chichester, sir." The maid went out. From behind the folding-doors came to Malling's ears the sound of splashing water, then a voice saying, certainly to the maid, "Thank you, Ellen, I will come." And in three minutes Chichester was in the room, apologizing. "I was kept late in the parish. There's a good deal to do." "You're not overworked?" asked Malling.
"He has tried to," said the professor, rather grimly. "And you didn't encourage him?" "When do I encourage clergymen to talk about psychical research?" Malling could not help smiling. "I have some reason at least I believe so to suppose that Harding and his curate Chichester have been making some experiments in directions not entirely unknown to us," he observed.
He showed no surprise at the sight of Malling, but rather a faint, though definite, pleasure. The way in which Lady Sophia greeted him was a revelation to Malling, and a curious exhibition of feminine psychology. She looked up at him from the low chair in which she was sitting, gave him her left hand, and said, "Are you very tired?" That was all.
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