was especially for his open mind about new religious ideas that the
Archdeacon mistrusted him. No opinion, however heterodox, shocked him. He
welcomed new thought and had himself written a book, _Christ and the
Gospels_, that for its learning and broad-mindedness had created a
considerable stir. But he was a dull dog, never laughed, never even
smiled, lived by himself and kept to himself. He had, in the past, opposed
every plan of the Archdeacon's, and opposed it relentlessly, but he was
always, thanks to the Archdeacon's efforts, in a minority. The other
Canons disliked him; the old Bishop, safely tucked away in his Palace at
Carpledon, was, except for his satellite Rogers, his only friend in
Polchester.

So much for the Chapter. There was now only one unknown element in the
situation--Ronder. Ronder's position was important because he was
Treasurer to the Cathedral. His predecessor, Hart-Smith, now promoted to
the Deanery of Norwich, had been an able man, but one of the old school, a
great friend of Brandon's, seeing eye to eye with him in everything. The
Archdeacon then had had his finger very closely upon the Cathedral purse,
and Hart-Smith's departure had been a very serious blow. The appointment
of the new Canon had been in the hands of the Crown, and Brandon had, of
course, had nothing to say to it. However, one glance at Ronder--he had
seen him and spoken to him at the Dean's a few days after his arrival--had
reassured him. Here, surely, was a man whom he need not fear--an easy,
good-natured, rather stupid fellow by the look of him. Brandon hoped to
have his finger on the Cathedral purse as tightly in a few weeks' time as
he had had it before.

And all this was in no sort of fashion for the Archdeacon's personal
advancement or ambition. He was contented with Polchester, and quite
prepared to live there for the rest of his days and be buried, with proper