"
"But you _shall_ listen to me, Archdeacon. I scarcely knew your son.
I had met him only once before, at some one's house, and talked to him
then only for five minutes. He himself asked to come and see me. I could
not refuse him when he asked me. I did not, of course, wish to refuse him.
I liked the look of him, and simply for his own sake wished to know him
better. When he came he was not with me for very long and our talk was
entirely about religion, belief, faith in God, the meaning of life,
nothing more particular than such things."
"Did he say, when he left you, that what you had told him had helped him
to make up his mind?"
"Yes."
"Were you, when he talked to you, quite unconscious that he was my son,
and that any action that he took would at once affect my life, my
happiness?"
"Of course I was aware that he was your son. But----"
"There is another question that I wish to ask you, Canon Ronder. Did some
one come to you not long ago with a letter that purported to be written by
my wife?"
Again Ronder hesitated.
"Yes," he said.
"Did she show you that letter?"
"She did.
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