Mr. R. Haslam. (Repeating what he has written.) Curates Society.
Mrs. R. Haslam. But why should he choose to personate a curate? That is what is so interesting to a novelist. Why a curate? It couldn't have been for the money, or the glory.
Mr. R. Haslam. Glory.
Bishop. The case is highly peculiar. He is certainly not without means, or brains. My opinion is that his action was due to excessive intellectual curiosity. He told me he wanted to feel what it was like to be a curate.
Mrs. R. Haslam. Yet he looked quite sane.
Bishop. Oh, quite! Astonishing story! His brother, through the influence of the Primate, had been engaged as curate, by the Vicar of St. Saviour's, Chelmsford, subject to an interview. This brother had been doing some chaplaining in Switzerland—just rough winter work. On the way home he died suddenly in Paris. Well, our friend of this morning calmly took up the dead man's identity. Came to Chelmsford, conquered the simple Vicar, and was at once accepted. That was two months ago.
Mr. R. Haslam. Ago.
Mrs. R. Haslam. But how dangerous.
Bishop. So I pointed out to him. His reply was that it was just the danger that had attracted him—coupled with the desire to understand why the members of his family had had such a passion for curacy. It seems that two of his sisters have espoused curates. This will be a grievous blow for all of them.
Mr. R. Haslam. All of them.