The man had managed to
sow rumours, somehow, within the gates of Silversmiths' College,
of all places!--rumours that had nothing to do with the island,
but suggested that, after all (there being no smoke without
fire), there _had_ been dubious and uncleanly experiments in the
laboratory during my professorship. I believe that this, when I
came to think it over, started my recovery: yes, my recovery.
For it showed me that Farrell was deteriorating, and, renewing a
little of my old contempt for the man, raised me by so much
above the abject fear of him into which I had sunk. From that
moment hope was renewed in me, and I nursed it. So long as he
worked on the truth he had me at his mercy: playing with
falsehood in this fashion, he was vulnerable, might come to be
mortally vulnerable if I watched and waited, and then I should
regain the lost mastery, dearer to me than life.

"For the moment, however, Travers claimed all the scorn I carried
inside me for use. He hinted that the College had suffered by
the scandal of the riot: which no doubt was true to some extent,
but not true enough to hide a lie or to cover a meditated
betrayal. He said that he had always looked a little askance on
my researches, and particularly upon my demonstrations; that
they were doubtless astonishing, but had lain, to his taste, a
little too near the border-line of quackery,--Yes, Roddy, he
said the word, and it did not choke him. On the whole and
speaking as a friend (yes, he used that word, too), he must
express a hope that I would not press to renew my connection
with the Silversmiths' College. It would pain
him inexpressibly, remembering old times, to be forced to give
me a direct refusal. . . . But was there anything else he could
do for me?

"That, Roddy, was the valley of the shadow of my death, and I had
no rod or staff to comfort me.

"I did not answer him in words. I gave him a look, and walked
out.

"My purpose had been to apply for temporary work, to relieve some
younger teacher who wished to enlist for medical work at the
front. Had you been in London, Roddy, I'd have pocketed shame
and come to you, and borrowed the price of a suit of clothes;
inside of which--and may be with your support--I might have
walked up boldly for a commiss