The Professor did not wish to appear too inquisitive on the subject of Meynell, and he therefore dallied a little with matters of Biblical criticism. France, however, took no interest whatever in them; and even an adroit description of a paper recently read by the speaker himself at an Oxford meeting failed to kindle a spark. Vetch found himself driven upon the real object of his visit. He desired to know--understanding that the Canon was an old friend of Henry Barron--where the Meynell affair exactly was. "Am I an old friend of Henry Barron?" said France slowly. "He says you are," laughed the Professor. "I happened to go up to town in the same carriage with him a fortnight ago." "He comes here a good deal--but he never takes my advice," said France. The Professor inquired what the advice had been. "To let it alone!" France looked round suddenly at his companion. "I have come to the conclusion," he added dryly, "that Barron is not a person of delicacy." The Professor, rather taken aback, argued on Barron's behalf. Would it have been seemly or right for a man--a Churchman of Barron's prominence--to keep such a thing to himself at such a critical moment? Surely it had an important bearing on the controversy. "I see none," said France, a spark of impatience in the small black eyes that shone so vividly above his large hanging cheeks. "Meynell says the story is untrue." "Ah! but let him prove it!" cried the Professor, his young-old face flushing. "He has made a wanton attack upon the Church; he cannot possibly expect any quarter from us. We are not in the least bound to hold him immaculate--quite the contrary. Men of that impulsive, undisciplined type are, as we all know, very susceptible to woman." France faced round upon his companion in a slow, contemptuous wonder. "I see you take your views from the anonymous letters?" The Professor laughed awkwardly. "Not necessarily. I understand Barron has direct evidence. Anyway, let Meynell take the usual steps. If he takes them successfully, we shall all rejoice. But his character has been made, so to speak, one of the pieces in the game. We are really not bound to accept it at his own valuation." "I think you will have to accept it," said France. There was a pause. The Professor wondered secretly whether France too was beginning to be tarred with the Modernist brush. No!--impossible. For that the Canon was either too indolent or too busy. At last he said: "Seriously, I should like to know what you really think." "It is of no importance what I think. But what suggests itself, of course, is that there is some truth in the story, but that Meynell is not the hero. And he doesn't see his way to clear himself by dishing other people." "I see." The obstinacy in the smooth voice rasped France. "If so, most unlucky for him! But then let him resign his living, and go quietly into obscurity. He owes it to his own side. For them the whole thing is disaster. He _must_ either clear himself or go."