For a few seconds Crashaw paused, intent on the pattern of the carpet, and worked 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.
"Quite, quite! I understand. But if you want any assistance.... Or do you expect me to investigate?"
"I thought it my duty, as his godfather, to see to the child's spiritual welfare," said Crashaw, ignoring the question put to him, "although he is not, now, one of my parishioners. I first went to Pym some few months ago, but the mother interposed between me and the child. I was not permitted to see him. It was not until a few weeks back that I met him—on the Common, alone. Of course, I recognised him at once. He is quite unmistakable."