"I have," said Crashaw, "undoubtedly I have." He leaned forward with his hands still clasped together, and rested his forearms on his thighs. As he talked he worked his hands up and down from the wrists, by way of emphasis. "I am aware," he went on, "that on one point I can expect little sympathy from you, but I make an appeal to you, nevertheless, as a man of science and--and a magistrate; for ... for assistance." He paused and looked up at Challis, received a nod of encouragement and developed his grievance. "I want to have the child certified as an idiot, and sent to an asylum." "On what grounds?" "He is undoubtedly lacking mentally," said Crashaw, "and his influence is, or may be, malignant." "Explain," suggested Challis. For a few seconds Crashaw paused, intent on the pattern of the carpet, and working his hands slowly. Challis saw that the man's knuckles were white, that he was straining his hands together. "He has denied God," he said at last with great solemnity. Challis rose abruptly, and went over to the window; the next words were spoken to his back. "I have, myself, heard this infant of four years use the most abhorrent blasphemy." Challis had composed himself. "Oh! I say; that's bad," he said as he turned towards the room again. Crashaw's head was still bowed. "And whatever may be your own philosophic doubts," he said, "I think you will agree with me that in such a case as this, something should be done. To me it is horrible, most horrible." "Couldn't you give me any details?" asked Challis. "They are most repugnant to me," answered Crashaw. "Quite, quite! I understand. But if you want any assistance.... Or do you expect me to investigate?" "I thought it my duty, as his godfather, to see to the child's spiritual welfare," said Crashaw, ignoring the question put to him, "although he is not, now, one of my parishioners. I first went to Pym some few months ago, but the mother interposed between me and the child. I was not permitted to see him. It was not until a few weeks back that I met him--on the Common; alone. Of course, I recognised him at once. He is quite unmistakable." "And then?" prompted Challis. "I spoke to him, and he replied with, with--an abstracted air, without looking at me. He has not the appearance in any way of a normal child. I made a few ordinary remarks to him, and then I asked him if he knew his catechism. He replied that he did not know the word 'catechism.' I may mention that he speaks the dialect of the common people, but he has a much larger vocabulary. His mother has taught him to read, it appears." "He seems to have a curiously apt intelligence," interpolated Challis. Crashaw wrung his clasped hands and put the comment on one side. "I then spoke to him of some of the broad principles of the Church's teaching," he continued. "He listened quietly, without interruption, and when I stopped, he prompted me with questions."