any with another man--introduced as Mr. Forman--a
jolly-looking, high-complexioned man of sixty or so, with a great
quantity of white hair on his head and face; he was wearing an
old-fashioned morning-coat and grey trousers that were noticeably too
short for him.

Crashaw lost no time in introducing the subject of "really peculiar
urgency," but he rambled in his introduction.

"You have probably forgotten," he said, "that last spring I had to bring
a most horrible charge against a child called Victor Stott, who has
since been living, practically, as I may say, under your aegis, that is,
he has, at least, spent a greater part of his day, er--playing in your
library at Challis Court."

"Quite, quite; I remember perfectly," said Challis. "I made myself
responsible for him up to a certain point. I gave him an occupation. It
was intended, was it not, to divert his mind from speaking against
religion to the yokels?"

"Quite a character, if I may say so," put in Mr. Forman cheerfully.

Crashaw was seated at his study table; the affair had something the
effect of an examining magistrate taking the evidence of witnesses.

"Yes, yes," he said testily; "I did ask your help, Mr. Challis, and I
did, in a way, receive some assistance from you. That is, the child has
to some extent been isolated by spending so much of his time at your
house."

"Has he broken out again?" asked Challis.

"If I understand you to mean has the child been speaking openly on any
subject connected with religion, I must say 'No,'" said Crashaw. "But he
never attends any Sunday school, or place of worship; he has received no
instruction in--er--any sacred subject, though I understand he is able
to read; and his time is spent among books which, pardon me, would not,
I suppose, be likely to give a serious turn to his thoughts."

"Serious?" questioned Challis.

"Perhaps I should say 'religious,'" replied Crashaw. "To me the two
words are synonymous."

Mr. Forman bowed his head slightly with an air of reverence, and nodded
two or three times to express his perfect approval of the rector's
sentiments.

"You think the child's mind is being perverted by his intercourse with
the books in the library where he--he--'plays' was your word, I
believe?"

"No, not altogether," replied Crashaw, drawing his eyebrows together.
"We can hardly suppose that he is able at so tender an age to read, much
less to understand, those works of philosophy and science which