Archie, ignoring the gesture, towered pale and avenging in his place; and Dredge, after a moment, took the chair himself. “The matter?” Archie reiterated with rising passion. “Are you so lost to all sense of decency and honour that you can put that question in good faith? Don’t you really _know_ what’s the matter?” Dredge smiled slowly. “There are so few things one _really knows_.” “Oh, damn your scientific hair-splitting! Don’t you know you’re insulting my father’s memory?” Dredge stared again, turning his spectacles thoughtfully from one of us to the other. “Oh, that’s it, is it? Then you’d better sit down. If you don’t see at once it’ll take some time to make you.” Archie burst into an ironic laugh. “I rather think it will!” he conceded. “Sit down, Archie,” I said, setting the example; and he obeyed, with a gesture that made his consent a protest. Dredge seemed to notice nothing beyond the fact that his visitors were seated. He reached for his pipe, and filled it with the care which the habit of delicate manipulations gave to all the motions of his long, knotty hands. “It’s about the lectures?” he said. Archie’s answer was a deep scornful breath. “You’ve only been back a week, so you’ve only heard one, I suppose?” “It was not necessary to hear even that one. You must know the talk they’re making. If notoriety is what you’re after--” “Well, I’m not sorry to make a noise,” said Dredge, putting a match to his pipe. Archie bounded in his chair. “There’s no easier way of doing it than to attack a man who can’t answer you!” Dredge raised a sobering hand. “Hold on. Perhaps you and I don’t mean the same thing. Tell me first what’s in your mind.” The request steadied Archie, who turned on Dredge a countenance really eloquent with filial indignation. “It’s an odd question for you to ask; it makes me wonder what’s in yours. Not much thought of my father, at any rate, or you couldn’t stand in his place and use the chance he’s given you to push yourself at his expense.” Dredge received this in silence, puffing slowly at his pipe. “Is that the way it strikes you?” he asked at length. “God! It’s the way it would strike most men.” He turned to me. “You too?” “I can see how Archie feels,” I said. “That I’m attacking his father’s memory to glorify myself?” “Well, not precisely: I think what he really feels is that, if your convictions didn’t permit you to continue his father’s teaching, you might perhaps have done better to sever your connection with the Lanfear lectureship.” “Then you and he regard the Lanfear lectureship as having been founded to perpetuate a dogma, not to try and get at the truth?”