There was a note as of slight reassurance in his voice.
"Mr. Chichester's sermon," said Lady Sophia.
"Oh, I see," said the rector. He glanced hastily from one to the other of the three people in the room, like a man searching for sympathy or help. "What were you saying about our friend Chichester's sermon?" he asked, with a forced air of interest.
Lady Sophia distributed cups for tea.
"I was speaking of that part of it which dealt with the man who followed his double," said Malling.
"Ah?" said the rector.
He was holding his tea-cup. His hand trembled slightly at this moment, and the china rattled. He set the cup down on the small table before him.
"You said," observed Chichester—toward whom Lady Sophia immediately turned, with an almost rapt air—"that it suggested some curious speculations to your mind. I should very much like to know what they were."
"One was this. Suppose the man in the garden, who looked in upon his double, had not fled away. Suppose he had had the courage to remain, and, in hiding—for the sake of argument we may assume the situation to be possible—"
"Ah, indeed! And why not?" interrupted Chichester.