The details mattered little.  He was face to face with the most serious danger that could befall him, and already he had strung himself to encounter it.  Yet even in the same moment he asked, ’Is it worth while?’

‘Did you write this?’ Buckland inquired.

‘Yes, I wrote it.’

‘Then I wait for your explanation.’

‘You mustn’t expect me to enter upon an elaborate defence,’ Godwin replied, taking his pipe from the mantelpiece and beginning to fill it.  ’A man charged with rascality can hardly help getting excited—­ and that excitement, to one in your mood, seems evidence against him.  Please to bear in mind that I have never declared myself an orthodox theologian.  Mr. Warricombe is well acquainted with my views; to you I have never explained them.’

‘You mean to say that my father knew of this article?’

‘No.  I have not spoken of it.’

‘And why not?’

’Because, for one thing, I shouldn’t write in that way now; and, for another, the essay seems to imply more than I meant when I did write it.’

’"Seems to imply”——?  I understand.  You wish to represent that this attack on M’Naughten involves no attack on Christianity?’

‘Not on Christianity as I understand it.’

Buckland’s face expressed profound disgust, but he controlled his speech.

’Well, I foresaw this.  You attacked a new sophistry, but there is a newer sophistry still, and uncommonly difficult it is to deal with.  Mr. Peak, I have a plain word to say to you.  More than a year ago you asked me for my goodwill, to aid you in getting a social position.  Say what you like, I see now that you dealt with me dishonestly.  I can no longer be your friend in any sense, and I shall do my best to have you excluded from my parents’ house.  My father will re-read this essay—­I have marked the significant passages throughout—­ and will form his own judgment; I know what it will be.’

‘You are within your rights.’

‘Undoubtedly,’ replied Buckland, with polished insolence, as he rose from his seat.  ’I can’t forbid you to go to the house again, but—­ I hope we mayn’t meet there.  It would be very unpleasant.’

Godwin was still pressing down the tobacco in the bowl of his pipe.  He smiled, and glanced about the room.  Did Warricombe know how far things had gone between him and Sidwell?  Whether or no, it was certain now that Sidwell would be informed of this disastrous piece of authorship—­and the result?

What did it matter?  There is no struggling against destiny.  If he and Sidwell were ever fated to come together, why, these difficulties would all be surmounted.  If, as seemed more than likely, he was again to be foiled on the point of success—­he could bear it, perhaps even enjoy the comedy.

‘There is no possibility of arguing against determined anger,’ he said, quietly.  ’I am not at all inclined to plead for justice:  one only does that with a friend who desires to be just.  My opinions are utterly distasteful to you, and personal motives have made you regard me as—­a scoundrel to be got rid of.  Well, there’s an end of it.  I don’t see what is to be gained by further talk.’