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Updated: June 26, 2025
Malling: I seem to have some remembrance of your saying to me at Tankerton that you wished to speak to Professor Stepton with regard to a certain matter. I may be wrong in my recollection. If, however, I am right, I now beg you not to speak to the professor. I have, of course, the very highest regard for his discretion; nevertheless, one must not be selfish. One must not think only of one's self.
The professor sat down again. "Such as I?" he said. "You are good enough to do me the honor of putting me in a class?" "As you have so far honored me," returned Chichester. "Ha!" ejaculated Stepton. He had quite got the better of his egoism, but he by no means regretted his outburst. "Do you claim to stand outside the ranks of the clergy?" he asked.
We go down these steps." As they descended, Malling remarked: "By the way, we have a friend staying here. Have you come across him?" "No, I have seen nobody that is, no acquaintance. Who is it?" "Stepton." "The professor down here!" exclaimed Mr. Harding, as if startled. "At the hotel, I believe. He's come down to make some investigation." "I haven't seen him."
The falcon, rising high in the blue air, had followed the gazelle, had circled, poised, then shot down and, with miraculous skill, struck into the gazelle's eye. Unerringly from above it had chosen out of the vast desert the home for its cruel beak. Somewhat in similar fashion, so Malling thought, Stepton rose above things, circled, poised, sank, and struck into the heart of the truth unerringly.
This last, having a remarkably retentive memory, he reproduced in the main in Mr. Harding's own words, omitting only the rector's reference to his moral lapses. During the whole time he was speaking Stepton was closely engaged with the Cambridge marmalade, and showed no symptoms of attention to anything else.
"Saul was punished for consulting the witch of Endor," returned Chichester. "And the Roman Catholic Church forbids her children to deal in occult things." "You can't expect a man like me, a disciple of Stepton, to take the Roman Catholic view of such a matter." "You are not a clergyman," said Chichester. Malling could not help smiling.
In Chichester's last remark there was a note of sarcasm which thoroughly roused Stepton, for it sounded like the sarcasm of knowledge addressed to ignorance. Stepton had a temper. This touch of superiority, not vulgar, but very definite, fell on it like a lash. "Now I'll go for the reverend gentleman of St. Joseph's!" he thought. And for a moment he forgot his aim in remembering himself.
Joseph's. Malling was not a regular church-goer. He belonged to the Stepton breed. But he was an earnest man and no scoffer, and some of his best friends were priests and clergymen. Nevertheless it was in a rather unusual go-to-meeting frame of mind that he got into a tail-coat and top hat, and set forth in a hansom to St. Joseph's the next morning. He had never been there before.
In Burlington House that woman, whom men with every reason adore, had given place to another less favorable toward him who had been her hero. It seemed to Malling as if in the future a strange thing might happen, almost as if it must happen: it seemed to him as if Chichester might convey his view of his rector to his rector's wife. "Study the link," Stepton had said.
When he ceased, Stepton remarked: "Really, clergymen are far more to be depended upon for valuable manifestations than a rat or two and a hysterical kitchen-maid. Come to my room, Malling." The professor had a bedroom facing the sea.
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