“He is undoubtedly lacking mentally,” said Crashaw, “and his influence is, or may be, malignant.”
“Explain,” suggested Challis.
For a few seconds Crashaw paused, intent on the pattern of the carpet, and working his hands slowly. Challis saw that the man’s knuckles were white, that he was straining his hands together.
“He has denied God,” he said at last with great solemnity.
Challis rose abruptly, and went over to the window; the next words were spoken to his back.
“I have, myself, heard this infant of four years use the most abhorrent blasphemy.”
Challis had composed himself. “Oh! I say; that’s bad,” he said as he turned towards the room again.
Crashaw’s head was still bowed. “And whatever may be your own philosophic doubts,” he said, “I think you will agree with me that in such a case as this, something should be done. To me it is horrible, most horrible.”
“Couldn’t you give me any details?” asked Challis.
“They are most repugnant to me,” answered Crashaw.