Any one could see then that to have young Rex Forsyth close at hand at
Pybus St. Anthony was the very best possible thing for the good of
Polchester. Lady St. Leath saw it, Mrs. Combermere saw it, Mrs. Sampson
saw it, and young Forsyth himself saw it. The Archdeacon entirely failed
to understand how there could be any one who did not see it. However, he
was afraid that there were one or two in Polchester.... People said that
young Forsyth was stupid! Perhaps he was not very bright; all the easier
then to direct him in the way that he should go, and throw his forces into
the right direction. People said that he cared more for his hunting and
his whist than for his work--well, he was young and, at any rate, there
was none of the canting hypocrite about him. The Archdeacon hated canting
hypocrites!

There had been signs, once and again, of certain anarchists and devilish
fellows, who crept up and down the streets of Polchester spreading their
wicked mischief, their lying and disintegrating ideas. The Archdeacon was
determined to fight them to the very last breath in his body, even as the
Black Bishop before him had fought _his_ enemies. And the Archdeacon
had no fear of his victory.

Rex Forsyth at Pybus St. Anthony would be a fine step forward. Have one of
these irreligious radicals there, and Heaven alone knew what harm he might
wreak. No, Polchester must be saved. Let the rest of the world go to
pieces, Polchester would be preserved.

On how many earlier occasions had the Archdeacon surveyed the Chapter,
considered it in all its details and weighed up judiciously the elements,
good and bad, that composed it. How well he knew them all! First the Dean,
mild and polite and amiable, his mind generally busy with his beloved