And here he shook his head as gravely as he had nodded it.
The rain still fell. The wet street still stretched out before them.
"It has been given to many men," began the Reverend Charles again in a totally different tone, this time the intellectual interrogative, "to see the hidden places, but your chance?"
Professor Higginson said nothing, he was beginning to feel uncomfortable again. He was not a materialist—what man of his great attainments could be? But on the other hand there was such a thing as going too far in the other direction. Then he reasoned with himself. The Reverend Charles had no weapon. He, the Professor, was a tall man, and—hang it all! he had no right to be certain that the man was mad.
They had come to Professor Higginson's door. There, in the pouring rain, Professor Higginson put in the latch key, opened the door, and asked in common courtesy whether his colleague's brother-in-law would come in.
His colleague's brother-in-law half shut a dripping umbrella, held out a huge and bony hand, fixed the embarrassed Don with luminous, distant eyes, grasped his nervously offered
