“‘But this theory of Carmichael’s makes an even prettier parable of the great and unpardonable error which tries to make one thing out of matter and Spirit—tells you that Spirit is a mode of matter, or the other way round. Just as Carmichael will have it that Davenant is a mode of Brotherhood. Like the materialist or the idealist he is stultifying experience for the sake of a formula. Couldn’t one write this up, somehow? Brotherhood, representing Matter, leaves off where Davenant, representing Spirit, begins. Carmichael, representing the modern mind, finds this an excellent reason for supposing that they are really, somehow, the same thing. The materialist sees Brotherhood everywhere, the Idealist sees Davenant everywhere, and consequently neither of them can solve the detective mystery of existence. It looks as if one could work up a sort of Oriental mythology out of it, as good as most Oriental mythologies anyway. And the joke of it is that Davenant’s really round the corner the whole time.’ I say, that was a pretty good shot anyhow. Why, Carmichael, I even seem to have anticipated your discovery of the secret passage.” “H’m,” said Carmichael; “there are some interesting half-truths in all that.” Chapter XVI Reeves promises to do his Best The conversation recorded in the last chapter took place (I forgot to say) on Saturday afternoon. It was while he was at tea downstairs that a message was brought in to Reeves telling him that a lady wished to see him on urgent business. She would not give her name, but she was waiting for him in what was called “the small lounge”—a dreary little room, which had something of the air of a hospital waiting-room; she would be glad if he could come as soon as possible. Disregarding Gordon’s suggestion that he should take Carmichael with him as a chaperon, he made his way to the small lounge with some feeling of self-importance, and found himself most unexpectedly confronted with Miss Rendall-Smith. “I’m afraid you think badly of me, Mr. Reeves,” she said, “and you’ll probably think worse of me before I’ve finished.” (Reeves gurgled dissent.) “The other day I turned you out of the house and told you to your face you were a liar. And that’s a bad introduction for me when I have to come to you, as I come now, asking for your help.” Reeves was horribly embarrassed. You can offer whisky to a policeman to show there is no ill-feeling, but it is more difficult to offer it to a lady. “I’m sure I should be very glad to be of any use,” he said. “I seem somehow to have made a bad impression on you the other day, though I still haven’t the least idea how. Wouldn’t it really be better if we put all our cards on the table and treated one another frankly?”