know what I mean."

Malling understood that the professor was beginning his "approach."

A week went by, and at a man's dinner, Malling chanced to sit next to
Blandford Sikes, one of the most noted physicians of the day. In the
course of conversation the doctor remarked:

"Is your friend Stepton going to set up in Harley Street?"

"Not that I know of," said Malling. "What makes you ask?"

"He came to consult me the other day, and when I told him he was as sound
as Big Ben he sat with me for over half an hour pumping me unmercifully
on the subject of nervous dyspepsia. The patient who followed, and who
happened to be a clergyman, looked fairly sick when he was let in at
last."

Who happened to be a clergyman! Malling had longed to ask Blandford
Sikes a question--who that clergyman was. But he refrained. To do so,
would doubtless have seemed oddly inquisitive. It was surely enough for
him to know that the professor was busily at work in his peculiar way.
And Malling thought again of that "approach." Evidently the professor
must be describing the curve he had spoken of. When would he arrive at
Henry Chichester? There were moments when Malling felt irritated by
Stepton's silence. That it was emulated by Marcus Harding, Lady Sophia,
and Henry Chichester did not make matters easier for him. However, he
had deliberately chosen to put this strange affair into Stepton's hands.
Stepton had shown no special alacrity with regard to the matter. Malling
felt that he could do nothing now but wait.

He waited.

Now and then rumors reached him of Marcus Harding's fading powers, now
and then he heard people discussing one of Henry Chichester's "remarkable
sermons," now and then in society some feminine gossip murmuring that
"Sophia Harding seems to be perfectly sick of that husband of hers. She
probably wishes now that she had taken all her people's advice and
refused him. Of course if he had been made a _bishop_!"

The season ended. Goodwood was over, and Malling went off to Munich and
Bayreuth for music. Then he made a walking-tour with friends in the
Oberammergau district, and returned to England only when the ruddy
banners of autumn were streaming over the land.

Still there was no communication from the professor. Malling might of
course have written to him or sought him. He preferred to possess his
soul in patience. Stepton was an arbitrary personage, and the last man
in the world to consent to a process of pumping.