“But what did he say to the charge of plagiarism—­if you made it?”

“Oh, I told him straight out what Howland said.  I thought it fairer.  And his answer to that was the rummest part of all.”

“What was it?” Bernald questioned, with a tremor.

“He said:  ‘That’s queer, for I’ve never read Pellerin.’”

Bernald drew a deep breath of ecstasy.  “Well—­and I suppose you believed him?”

“I believed him, because I know him.  But the public won’t—­the critics won’t.  And if it’s a pure coincidence it’s just as bad for him as if it were a straight steal—­isn’t it?”

Bernald sighed his acquiescence.

“It bothers me awfully,” Wade continued, knitting his kindly brows, “because I could see what a blow it was to him.  He’s got to earn his living, and I don’t suppose he knows how to do anything else.  At his age it’s hard to start fresh.  I put that to Howland—­asked him if there wasn’t a chance he might do better if he only had a little encouragement.  I can’t help feeling he’s got the essential thing in him.  But of course I’m no judge when it comes to books.  And Howland says it would be cruel to give him any hope.”  Wade paused, turned his wineglass about under a meditative stare, and then leaned across the table toward Bernald.  “Look here—­do you know what I’ve proposed to Winterman?  That he should come to town with me to-morrow and go in the evening to hear Howland lecture to the Uplift Club.  They’re to meet at Mrs. Beecher Bain’s, and Howland is to repeat the lecture that he gave the other day before the Pellerin Society at Kenosha.  It will give Winterman a chance to get some notion of what Pellerin was: he’ll get it much straighter from Howland than if he tried to plough through Pellerin’s books.  And then afterward—­as if accidentally—­I thought I might bring him and Howland together.  If Howland could only see him and hear him talk, there’s no knowing what might come of it.  He couldn’t help feeling the man’s force, as we do; and he might give him a pointer—­tell him what line to take.  Anyhow, it would please Winterman, and take the edge off his disappointment.  I saw that as soon as I proposed it.”

“Some one who’s never heard of Pellerin?”

Mrs. Beecher Bain, large, smiling, diffuse, reached out parenthetically from the incoming throng on her threshold to waylay Bernald with the question as he was about to move past her in the wake of his companion.

“Oh, keep straight on, Mr. Winterman!” she interrupted herself to call after the latter.  “Into the back drawing-room, please!  And remember, you’re to sit next to me—­in the corner on the left, close under the platform.”

She renewed her interrogative clutch on Bernald’s sleeve.  “Most curious!  Doctor Wade has been telling me all about him—­how remarkable you all think him.  And it’s actually true that he’s never heard of Pellerin?  Of course as soon as Doctor Wade told me that, I said ‘Bring him!’ It will be so extraordinarily interesting to watch the first impression.—­Yes, do follow him, dear Mr. Bernald, and be sure that you and he secure the seats next to me.  Of course Alice Fosdick insists on being with us.  She was wild with excitement when I told her she was to meet some one who’d never heard of Pellerin!”