Challis, however, persisted, and I suppose I was not too far gone to listen to him. I remember his saying: "That problem is not for you or me or any man living to solve by introspection. Our work is to add knowledge little by little, data here and there, for future evidence." The phrase struck me, because the Wonder had once said "There are no data," when in the early days I had asked him whether he could say definitely if there was any future existence possible for us? Now Challis put it to me that our work was to find data, that every little item of real knowledge added to the feeble store man has accumulated in his few thousand years of life, was a step, the greatest step any man could possibly make. "But could we not get, not a small but a very important item, from Victor Stott?" Challis shook his head. "He is too many thousands of years ahead of us," he said. "We can only bridge the gap by many centuries of patient toil. If a revelation were made to us, we should not understand it." So, by degrees, Challis's influence took possession of me and roused me to self-assertion. One morning, half in dread, I stayed at home and read a novel--no other reading could hold my attention--philosophy had become nauseating. I expected to see the strange little figure of the Wonder come across the Common, but he never came, nor did I receive any reproach from Ellen Mary. I think she had forgotten her fear of the Harrison idiot. Nevertheless, I did not give up my guardianship all at once. Three times after that morning I took the Wonder for a walk. He made no allusion to my defalcations. Indeed he never spoke. He relinquished me as he had taken me up, without comment or any expression of feeling. VI On the twenty-ninth of September I went down to Challis Court and stayed there for a week. Then I returned for a few days to Wood Farm in order to put my things together and pack my books. I had decided to go to Cairo for the winter with Challis. At half-past one o'clock on Thursday, the eighth of October, I was in the sitting-room, when I saw the figure of Mrs. Stott coming across the Common. She came with a little stumbling run. I could see that she was agitated even before she reached the farmyard gate. CHAPTER XVI RELEASE I She opened the front door without knocking, and came straight into my sitting-room. "'E's not 'ere," she said in a manner that left it doubtful whether she made an assertion or asked a question. "Your son?" I said. I had risen when she came into the room. "No; I haven't seen him to-day." Ellen Mary was staring at me, but it was clear that she neither saw nor heard me. She had a look of intense concentration. One could see that she was calculating, thinking, thinking.... I went over to her and took her by the arm. I gently shook her. "Now, tell me what's the matter? What has happened?" I asked.