tempt even the simple-minded Dr. Groschen, though the interests of the FitzTaylor were so near his heart. These suspicions proved unfounded as they were ungenerous. The savant was contented with his degree and college rooms, and showed no hurry for the remainder of the sum to be paid.
One night, when I was seated in my rooms beside the fire, preparing lectures on the ichthyosaurus, I was startled by a knock at my door. It was a hurried, jerky rap. I shouted, ‘Come in.’ The door burst open, and on the threshold I saw Monteagle, with a white face, on which the beads of perspiration glittered. At first I thought it was the rain which had drenched his cap and gown, but in a moment I saw that the perspiration was the result of terror or anxiety (cf. my lectures on Mental Equilibrium). Monteagle and I in our undergraduate days had been friends; but like many University friendships, ours proved evanescent; our paths had lain in different directions.
He had chosen archæology. We failed to convert one another to each other’s views. When he became a member of ‘The Disciples,’
a mystic Oxbridge society, the fissure between us widened to a gulf. We nodded when we met, but that was all. With Girdelstone I was not on speaking terms. So when I found Monteagle on my threshold I confess I was startled.
‘May I come in?’ he asked.
‘Certainly, certainly,’ I said cordially. ‘But what is the matter?’
‘Good God! Newall,’ he cried, ‘that MS. after all is a forgery.’
This expression I thought unbecoming in a ‘Disciple,’ but I only smiled and said, ‘Really, you think so?’ Monteagle then made reference to our old friendship, our unfortunate dissensions. He asked for my help, and then really excited my pity. Some member of the High Church party in Oxbridge had apparently been to Greece to attend a Conference on the Union of the Greek and Anglican Churches. While there he met Sarpedon, Patriarch of Hermaphroditopolis, and in course of conversation told him of the renowned Dr. Groschen. Sarpedon became distant at mention of the Doctor’s name. He denied all knowledge of the
famous letter of introduction, and said the only thing he knew of the Professor was, that he was usually supposed to have been the thief who had made off with a large chest of parchments from the monastery of St. Basil.
The Greek Patriarch refused to give any further information. The English clergyman reported the incident privately to Girdelstone.