making investigations into strange occurrences. He was not easily
surprised, nor was he easily puzzled. By nature more skeptical than
credulous, he had a cool brain, and he was seldom, if ever, the victim
of his imagination. But on the evening of the day in question he found
himself continually dwelling, and with a curiously heated mind, upon the
encounter of that afternoon. Mr. Harding's manner in the latter part of
their walk together had--he scarcely knew why--profoundly impressed him.
He longed to see the clergyman again. He longed, almost more ardently, to
pay a visit to Henry Chichester. Although the instinct of caution, which
had perhaps been developed in him by his work among mediums, cranks of
various kinds, and charlatans, had prevented him from letting the rector
know that he had been struck by the change in the senior curate, that
change had greatly astonished him. Yet was it really so very marked? He
had noticed it before his attention had been drawn to it. That he knew.
But was he not now, perhaps, exaggerating its character, "suggestioned"
as it were by the obvious turmoil of Mr. Harding? He wondered, and was
disturbed by his wonderment. Two or three times he got up, with the
intention of jumping into a cab, and going to Westminster to find out
if Professor Stepton was in town. But he only got as far as the hall.
Then something seemed to check him. He told himself that he was in no
fit condition to meet the sharp eyes of the man of science, who delighted
in his somewhat frigid attitude of mind toward all supposed supernormal
manifestations, and he returned to his study and tried to occupy himself
with a book.

On the occasion of his last return, just as he was about to sit down,
his eyes chanced to fall on an almanac framed in silver which stood on
his writing-table. He took it up and stared at it. May 8, Friday--May 9,
Saturday--May 10, Sunday. It was May 9. He put the almanac back on the
table with a sudden sense of relief. For he had come to a decision.