"No, but very ill, I believe."
"Well, there's only one possible appointment for that place, and that is
Wistons."
"Wistons?" repeated Ronder.
"Yes, yes," said Foster impatiently, "the author of _The New
Apocalypse_--the rector of St. Edward's, Hawston."
Ronder remembered. "A stranger?" he said. "I thought that it would have to
be some one in the diocese."
Foster did not hear him. "I've been waiting for this--to get Wistons here
--for years," he said. "A wonderful man--a great man. He'll wake the place
up. We _must_ have him. As to local men, the more strangers we let in
here the better."
"Brandon said something about a man called Forsyth--Rex Forsyth?"
Foster smiled grimly. "Yes--he would," he said, "that's just his kind of
appointment. Well, if he tries to pull that through there'll be such a
battle as this place has never seen."
Ronder said slowly. "I like your idea of Wistons. That sounds
interesting."
Foster looked at him with a new intensity.
"Would you help me about that?" he asked.
"I don't know quite where I am yet," said Ronder, "but I think you'll find
me a friend rather than an enemy, Foster.
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