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The man was fearless, a fanatic if you please, but
devoted to his religion, believing in it with a fervour and sincerity that
nothing could shake. An able man too, the best preacher in the diocese,
better read in every kind of theology than any clergyman in Glebeshire. It
was especially for his open mind about new religious ideas that the
Archdeacon mistrusted him. No opinion, however heterodox, shocked him. He
welcomed new thought and had himself written a book, _Christ and the
Gospels_, that for its learning and broad-mindedness had created a
considerable stir. But he was a dull dog, never laughed, never even
smiled, lived by himself and kept to himself. He had, in the past, opposed
every plan of the Archdeacon's, and opposed it relentlessly, but he was
always, thanks to the Archdeacon's efforts, in a minority. The other
Canons disliked him; the old Bishop, safely tucked away in his Palace at
Carpledon, was, except for his satellite Rogers, his only friend in
Polchester.
So much for the Chapter. There was now only one unknown element in the
situation--Ronder.


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