The Chaplain in fact had sought out Brother Copas, had found him in his customary haunt, fishing gloomily and alone beside the Mere, and had opened his purpose for once pretty straightly, yet keeping another in reserve.
"The Master has told me he gave you an anonymous letter that reached him concerning Brother Bonaday. I have made up my mind to ask you a question or two quite frankly about it."
"Now what in the world can he want?" thought Copas, continuing to whip the stream. Aloud he said: "You'll excuse me, but I see no frankness in your asking questions before telling me how much you know."
"I intended that. I have received a similar letter."
"I guessed as much.… So you called on him with it and bullied him into another attack of angina pectoris? That, too, I guessed. Well?"
The Chaplain made no answer for a moment. Then he said with some dignity—
"I might point out to you—might I not?—that both your speech and the manner of it are grossly insubordinate."
"I know it.… I am sorry, sir; but in some way or another—by showing him your letter, I suppose—you have come near to killing my only friend."
"I did not show him the letter."
"Then I beg your pardon." Brother Copas turned and began to wind in his line. "If you wish to talk about it, I recognise that you have the right, sir; but let me beg you to be brief."