Champers-Haswell's private suite at The Court, the decorations of
which, as he was wont to inform his visitors, had cost nearly L2000. Sir
Robert, whose taste at any rate was good, thought them so appalling that
while waiting for his host and partner, whom he had come to see, he took
a seat in the bow window of the sitting-room and studied the view that
nobody had been able to spoil. Presently Mr. Haswell emerged from his
bedroom, wrapped in a dressing gown and looking very pale and shaky.
"Delighted to see you all right again," said Sir Robert as he wheeled up
a chair into which Mr. Haswell sank.
"I am not all right, Aylward," he answered; "I am not all right at all.
Never had such an upset in my life; thought I was going to die when that
accursed savage told his beastly tale. Aylward, you are a man of the
world, tell me, what is the meaning of the thing? You remember what we
thought we saw in the office, and then--that story."
"I don't know," he answered; "frankly I don't know. I am a man who has
never believed in anything I cannot see and test, one who utterly lacks
faith. In my leisure I have examined into the various religious
systems and found them to be rubbish.
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