Part 23 (2/2)
”And you might give me a cup of tea in the afternoon,” the professor had added, looking at the rector rather narrowly before shambling off to his hotel to get the plaid shawl which he often wore at night.
”With the greatest pleasure. Minors is the name of the house,” had been Mr. Harding's reply.
Whereupon the professor had vanished, muttering to himself:
”Minors! And why not Majors, if you come to that? Perhaps too suggestive of heart-breaking military men. Minors is safer in a respectable seaside place.”
The professor had been up all night, but looked much as usual, and was eating a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs in the cheerful coffee-room when Malling arrived. He scarcely ever ate at orthodox hours, and had frequently been caught lunching at restaurants in London between four and five in the afternoon.
”Where's the rector? At church?” was his greeting.
”The rector has gone back to London,” replied Malling, sitting down by the table.
”What about my cup of tea, then?” snapped Stepton.
”I will be your host. I'm here till to-morrow. Any interesting manifestations?”
”A rat or two and a hysterical kitchen-maid seem to be the responsible agents in the building up of the reputation of the house I kept awake in last night.”
”I believe I have a more interesting problem for you.”
The professor stretched out a sinewy hand.
”Cambridge marmalade! Most encouraging!” he muttered. ”Have the reverend gentlemen of St. Joseph's been at it again--successfully?”
”I want you to judge.”
And thereupon Malling laid the case faithfully before the professor, describing not only the dinner in Hornton Street and his interview with Lady Sophia, but also the two sermons he had heard at St. Joseph's, and the rector's lamentable outburst of the previous night. 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. 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. He led Malling to it, shut the door, gave Malling a cane chair, sat down himself, in a peculiar, crab-like posture, upon the bed, and said:
”Now give me as minute a psychological study of the former and actual Henry Chichester as you can.”
Malling complied with this request as lucidly and tersely as he could, wasting no words.
”Any unusual change in his outward man since you knew him two years ago?”
asked the professor, when he had finished.
Malling mentioned the question as to the curate's eyes and mouth which had risen in his mind, and added:
”But the character of the man is so changed that it may have suggestioned me into feeling as if there were physical change in him, too.”
”More than would be inevitable in any man in a couple of years. And now as to his digestive organs.”
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