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Updated: June 26, 2025
When the motor disappeared, he strolled across the grass with a towel and had a dip in the brown sea, going in off the long shoal that the Whitstable and Tankerton folk call "the Street." Then he set out to find the professor. His interview with Stepton on the previous night in the presence of Mr. Harding had been rather brief. Stepton had been preoccupied and monosyllabic.
"Marcus Harding is a double, you say. Whose?" "Mine," said Chichester in a low voice. He clasped and unclasped his hands. "I don't understand you," said Stepton, rather disdainfully. "I will try to make you." And Chichester began to speak, at first in a low, level voice. "That sermon of mine," he said, "was a sort of shadow of a truth that I wanted to reveal, that I dared not fully reveal.
"Do you mean ecclesiastical authority?" "Oh, dear, no! I was thinking of a man like, say, Professor Stepton." As Malling spoke, a curious figure seemed almost to dawn upon them, sidewise, becoming visible gently in the darkness; a short man, with hanging arms, a head poked forward, as if in sharp inquiry, and rather shambling legs, round which hung loosely a pair of very baggy, light trousers.
I spoke of the efforts being made by earnest men of science such men as Professor Stepton, for instance to get at the truth Christians are expected to take on trust, as it were. I said I respected such men.
Besides, you haven't been killed on the underground yet." A curious expression that seemed mingled of disappointment and of contempt passed across Chichester's face. Stepton saw it and told himself, "No hysteria." "Possibly the reason may be a more intellectual one," observed the professor. "I hear you have been preaching some very remarkable sermons. I haven't heard them.
Chichester went to the door, and Stepton heard the words, "Nobody, you understand," following on a subdued murmuring. "And Mr. Harding, sir?" said the maid's voice outside. "Mr. Harding won't come to-day. That will do, Ellen." The professor heard steps descending. His host shut the door and returned. "You typed it for your own use?" said Stepton. "That sermon? Yes.
"But I must tell you that now I gained no satisfaction from my own improvement, if so it may be called. My whole life was vitiated by my secret terror lest Marcus Harding should be found out, should ever be known for what he was. His actions, and even his thoughts, affected me with an intimacy that was inexplicable." "You were in telepathic communication with him!" interjected Stepton.
"And yet isn't there a saying of Newton's, 'A little science sends man far away from God, a great deal of science brings man back to God? You'll forgive the apparent rudeness. All I mean is " "That the sooner I try to get more science the better for me," snapped out Stepton, brusquely interrupting his visitor, but without heat.
His successor, Colonel Stepton, finding the situation untenable, resigned almost at once, and the Mormons, recovering their former militancy and independence, then sought to free themselves altogether from the guardianship of America, and to be sole masters in their own territory.
Harding: In reply to your letter, I will not now repeat our conversation of the other evening to Professor Stepton. He is, as you say, a man of the highest discretion, and should you feel inclined yourself to take him into your confidence at any time, I think you will not regret it. Yours sincerely, Evelyn Malling.
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