'It seems pretty clear that the Moxeys—at all events Miss Moxey—knew the rascally part he was playing. Whether they wished to unmask him, or not, I can't say. Perhaps not. Yet I caught an odd look on Miss Moxey's face when that man Malkin began to talk of Peak's characteristics and achievements. It came out, by-the-bye, that he had given all his acquaintances the slip; they had completely lost sight of him—I suppose until Miss Moxey met him by chance at Budleigh Salterton. There's some mystery still. She evidently kept Peak's secret from the Moorhouses and the Walworths. A nice business, altogether!'
Again there was a long silence. Then Sidwell raised her face and said, abruptly:
'You may be quite mistaken.'
'How?'
'You went to Mr. Peak in a spirit of enmity and anger. It is not likely he would explain himself. You may have quite misunderstood what he said.'
'Ridiculous! You mean that he was perhaps "converted" after writing this article?—Then why did he allow it to be published?'
'He did not sign it. He may have been unable to withdraw it from the editor's hands.'
'Bosh! He didn't sign it, because the idea of this Exeter campaign came between the reception and the appearance of his paper. In the ordinary course of things, he would have been only too glad to see his name in The Critical. The scoundrelly project was conceived perhaps the very day that I brought him here—perhaps in that moment—at lunch, do you remember?—when he began to talk of the sermon at the Cathedral?'
'Why did he go to the Cathedral and hear that sermon?'
'To amuse a Sunday morning, I suppose.'