Part 24 (2/2)
”And now? You think he would be a difficult customer to tackle now?”
”Harding finds him so.”
”And Harding was an overwhelming chap, c.o.c.ksure of himself. Chichester must be difficult. Shall I tackle him?”
”I wish you would. But how? Do you wish me to introduce him to you?”
”Let me see.”
The professor dropped his head and remained silent for a minute or two.
”Tell me something,” he at length remarked, lifting his head and a.s.suming his most terrier-like aspect. ”Do you think Harding a whited sepulcher?”
”Possibly.”
”And do you think his saintly curate has found it out?”
”Do you think that would supply a natural explanation of the mystery?”
”Should you prefer to search for it in that malefic region which is the abiding-place of nervous dyspepsia?”
”How could--”
”Acute nervous dyspepsia, complicated by a series of sittings under the rose, might eat away the most brazen self-confidence. That's as certain as that I wear whiskers and you don't. Shall we do an addition sum? Shall we add Chichester's discovery of secret lapses in his wors.h.i.+ped rector's life, to the nervous dyspepsia and the sittings? Shall we do that?”
”And Lady Sophia?”
”There's a sunflower type of woman. The rising sun can't escape her inevitable wors.h.i.+p.”
”The change in Harding may be a natural one. But there is something portentous in the change in Chichester,” said Malling. ”You know I'm a rather cool hand, and certainly not inclined to easy credulity. But there's something about Chichester which--well, Professor, I'll make a confession to you that isn't a pleasant one for any man to make. There's something about Chichester which shakes my nerves.”
”And you haven't got nervous dyspepsia?”
”Should I be even a meliorist--as I am--if I had?”
”I must know Chichester. It's a pity I didn't know him formerly.”
”I don't believe that matters,” said Malling, with intense conviction.
”There is that in him which must strike you and affect you, whether you knew him as he was or not.”
”So long as I don't turn tail and run from him, all's well. I will tackle Chichester. In the interests of science I will face this curate.
But how shall I approach him? As in golf, the approach is much, if not everything.”
He sat thinking for some minutes, with his eyebrows twitching. Then he said:
”The question is, Should the approach be casual or direct? Shall I describe a curve, or come to him as the crow comes when making for a given point--or is said to come, for I've never investigated that matter? What do you say?”
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