The curate spoke nervously, and seemed to Malling to be regarding him with furtive anxiety.
"It was obvious that Mr. Harding wasn't in good form this morning,"
Malling said. "He explained the matter after lunch."
"He explained the matter!" said Chichester, with a rising voice, in which there was an almost shrill note of suspicion.
"Yes. He told me he was often the victim of nervous dyspepsia, and that he had an attack of it while in the pulpit this morning."
"He told you it was nervous dyspepsia!"
"I have just said so."
The curate looked down.
"I advised him not to walk all the way home yesterday," he said gloomily.
"You heard me."
"You think it was that?"
"He never will take advice from any one. That's his—one of his great faults. Whatever he thinks, whatever he says, must be right. You, as a layman, probably have no idea how a certain type of clergyman loves authority."