‘I understand that he proposes to take the London B.A.’

’Oh, then, he never did that?  Has he unbosomed himself to you about his affairs of old time?’

‘No.  Such confidences are hardly called for.’

‘Speaking plainly, father, you don’t feel any uneasiness?’

Martin deliberated, fingering the while an engraved stone which hung upon his watch-guard.  He was at a disadvantage in this conversation.  Aware that Buckland regarded the circumstances of Peak’s sojourn in the neighbourhood with feelings allied to contempt, he could neither adopt the tone of easy confidence natural to him on other occasions of difference in opinion, nor express himself with the coldness which would have obliged his son to quit the subject.

‘Perhaps you had better tell me,’ he replied, ’whether you are really uneasy.’

It was impossible for Buckland to answer as his mind prompted.  He could not without offence declare that no young man of brains now adopted a clerical career with pure intentions, yet such was his sincere belief.  Made tolerant in many directions by the cultivation of his shrewdness, he was hopelessly biassed in judgment as soon as his anti-religious prejudice came into play—­a point of strong resemblance between him and Peak.  After fidgeting for a moment, he exclaimed: 

‘Yes, I am; but I can’t be sure that there’s any cause for it.’

‘Let us come to matters of fact,’ said Mr. Warricombe, showing that he was not sorry to discuss this side of the affair.  ’I suppose there is no doubt that Peak had a position till lately at the place he speaks of?’

’No doubt whatever.  I have taken pains to ascertain that.  His account of himself, so far, is strictly true.’

Martin smiled, with satisfaction he did not care to disguise.

‘Have you met some acquaintance of his?’

‘Well,’ answered Buckland, changing his position, ’I went to work in rather an underhand way, perhaps—­but the results are satisfactory.  No, I haven’t come across any of his friends, but I happened to hear not long ago that he was on intimate terms with some journalists.’

His father laughed.

‘Anything compromising in that association, Buckland?’

’I don’t say that—­though the fellows I speak of are hot Radicals.’

‘Though?’

‘I mean,’ replied the young man, with his shrewder smile, ’that they are not exactly the companions a theological student would select.’

‘I understand.  Possibly he has journalised a little himself?’

’That I can’t say, though I should have thought it likely enough.  I might, of course, find out much more about him, but it seemed to me that to have assurance of his truthfulness in that one respect was enough for the present.’

‘Do you mean, Buckland,’ asked his father, gravely, ’that you have been setting secret police at work?’

’Well, yes.  I thought it the least objectionable way of getting information.’