It was the course dictated by his own wish, she knew.  And what could be gained by any middle way between hearty goodwill and complete repudiation?  Time—­time alone must work out the problem.

‘Yes, I think you have no choice,’ she answered.

‘Then I must make inquiries—­see if he leaves the town.’

‘Mr. Lilywhite will know, probably.’

‘I will write before long.’

So the dialogue ended, and neither sought to renew it.

Martin enjoined upon his wife a discreet avoidance of the subject.  The younger members of the family were to know nothing of what had happened, and, if possible, the secret must be kept from friends at Exeter.  When a fortnight had elapsed, he wrote to Mr. Lilywhite, asking whether it was true that Peak had gone away.  ’It seems that private circumstances have obliged him to give up his project of taking Orders.  Possibly he has had a talk with you?’ The clergyman replied that Peak had left Exeter.  ’I have had a letter from him, explaining in general terms his change of views.  It hardly surprises me that he has reconsidered the matter.  I don’t think he was cut out for clerical work.  He is far more likely to distinguish himself in the world of science.  I suspect that conscientious scruples may have something to do with it; if so, all honour to him!’

The Warricombes prolonged their stay in London until the end of June.  On their return home, Martin was relieved to find that scarcely an inquiry was made of him concerning Peak.  The young man’s disappearance excited no curiosity in the good people who had come in contact with him, and who were so far from suspecting what a notable figure had passed across their placid vision.  One person only was urgent in his questioning.  On an afternoon when Mrs Warricombe and her daughters were alone, the Rev. Bruno Chilvers made a call.

‘Oh!’ he exclaimed, after a few minutes’ conversation, ’I am so anxious to ask you what has become of Mr. Peak.  Soon after my arrival in Exeter, I went to see him, and we had a long talk—­a most interesting talk.  Then I heard all at once that he was gone, and that we should see no more of him.  Where is he?  What is he doing?’

There was a barely appreciable delay before Mrs. Warricombe made answer.

‘We have quite lost sight of him,’ she said, with an artificial smile.  ’We know only that he was called away on some urgent business —­family affairs, I suppose.’

Chilvers, in the most natural way, glanced from the speaker to Sidwell, and instantly, without the slightest change of expression, brought his eyes back again.

‘I hope most earnestly,’ he went on, in his fluty tone, ’that he will return.  A most interesting man!  A man of large intellectual scope, and really broad sympathies.  I looked forward to many a chat with him.  Has he, I wonder, been led to change his views?  Possibly he would find a secular sphere more adapted to his special powers.’