ace, which had been cloudy, cleared.

"It seems to me," he said, "that we clergymen have a special reason
for desiring Stepton, and all Stepton's assistants, to make progress.
It is true, of course, that we live by faith. And nothing can be more
beautiful than a childlike faith in the Great Being who is above all
worlds, in the _anima mundi_. But it would be unnatural in us if we did
not earnestly desire that our faith be proved, scientifically proved,
to be well-founded. I speak now of the faith we Christians hold in a
life beyond the grave. I know many people who think it very wrong in a
clergyman to mix himself up in any occult experiments. But I don't agree
with them."

It was now Malling's turn to look sharply at his companion.

"Have you made many experiments yourself, may I ask?" he said very
bluntly.

The clergyman started, and was obviously embarrassed by the question.

"I! Oh, I was speaking generally. I am a very busy man, you see. What
with my church and my parish, and one thing and another, I get very
little time for outside things. Still I am greatly interested, I confess,
in all that Stepton is doing."

"Does Mr. Chichester share your interest?" said Malling.

"In a minor degree, in a minor degree," answered the rector, rather
evasively.

They were now in Sloane Street and Malling said:

"I must turn off here."

"I'll go with you as far as your door if you've no objection," said the
rector, who seemed very loath to leave his companion. "It's odd how men
change, isn't it?"

"As they grow older? But surely development is natural and to be
expected?"

"Certainly. But when a man changes drastically, sheds his character and
takes on another?"

"You are talking perhaps of what is called conversion?"

"Well, that would be an instance of what I mean, no doubt. But there
are changes of another type. We clergymen, you know, mix intimately with
so many men that we are almost bound to become psychologists if we are
to do any good. It becomes a habit with many of us to study closely our
fellow-men. Now I, for instance; I cannot live at close quarters with a
man without, almost unconsciously, subjecting him to a minute scrutiny,
and striving to sum him up. My curates, for example--"

"Yes?" said Malling.

"There are four of them, our friend Chichester being the senior one."

"And you have 'placed' them all?"

"I thought I had, I thought so--but--"

Mr. Harding was silent. Then, with a strange a