voice there was a bitter irony.

"Is that you, Mr. Malling?" said the voice of Lady Sophia. "I was lying
down with a book. This is my little room."

She looked pale, almost haggard, as the sunshine fell upon her through
the open window.

Malling took his leave at once and she did not attempt to detain him.

"I hope you'll come again," she said, as they shook hands. "Perhaps on
another Sunday morning, to church and lunch. I'll let you know."

She said the last words with a significance which made Malling understand
that she did not wish him to come to church at St. Joseph's again till
she gave him the word.

The rector let him out of the house. Not another word was spoken about
Henry Chichester. As his guest walked away the rector stood, bareheaded,
looking after him, then, as Malling turned the corner of the gardens,
with a heavy sigh, and the unconscious gesture of a man greatly troubled
in mind, he stepped back into his hall and shut the door behind him.

IV

A week later, Mailing paid a visit to Professor Stepton. He had heard
nothing of the Hardings and Chichester since the day of the luncheon in
Onslow Gardens, but they had seldom been absent from his thoughts, and
more than once he had looked at the words, "Dine with H.C." in his book
of engagements, and had found himself wishing that "Hornton Street,
Wednesday" was not so far distant.

The professor lived in Westminster, in a house with Adam ceilings, not
far from the Houses of Parliament. He was unmarried, and Malling found
him alone after dinner, writing busily in his crowded library. He had but
recently returned from Paris, whither he had traveled to take part in a
series of "sittings" with the famous medium, Mrs. Groeber.

In person the professor was odd, without being specially striking. He
was of medium height, thin and sallow, with gray whiskers, thick gray
hair, bushy eyebrows, and small, pointed and inquiring features which
gave him rather the aspect of a prying bird. His eyes were little and
sparkling. His mouth, strangely enough, was ecclesiastical. He nearly
always wore very light-colored clothes. Even in winter he was often
to be seen clad in yellow-gray tweeds, a yellow silk necktie, and a
fawn-colored Homburg hat. And no human being had ever encountered him
in a pair of boots unprotected by spats. One peculiarity of his was that
he did not possess a walking-stick, another that he had never--so at
least he declared--owned a pocket