"I know what your business is this
morning. I wouldn't keep you from it for a single moment. I know what
you're going to do. You're going to get rid of that damned Archdeacon.
Finish him for once and all. Stamp on him so that he can never raise up
his beautiful head again. I know. It's fine work you've been doing ever
since you came here, Canon Ronder. But it isn't you that's been doing it.
It's the Cathedral."
"Please let me pass," said Ronder. "I haven't any time just now to spare."
"Ah, that hurts your pride. You like to think it's you who's been the
mighty fine fellow all this time. Well, it isn't you at all. It's the
Cathedral. The Cathedral's jealous, you know--don't like its servants
taking all the credit to themselves. Pride's dangerous, Canon Ronder. In a
year or two's time, when you're feeling pretty pleased with yourself, you
just look back on the Archdeacon's history for a moment and consider it.
It may have a lesson for you. Good morning, Canon Ronder. Pleased to have
met you."
The wretched creature went slithering up the aisle, chuckling to himself.
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