Der Praefekt

care about, would think so too; but Eleanor,
    he was sure, would exult in what he had done, and the bishop, he
    trusted, would sympathise with him.
     
    In the meantime he had to meet the archdeacon, and so he walked slowly
    down Chancery Lane and along Fleet Street, feeling sure that his work
    for the night was not yet over.  When he reached the hotel he rang the
    bell quietly, and with a palpitating heart; he almost longed to escape
    round the corner, and delay the coming storm by a further walk round
    St Paul’s Churchyard, but he heard the slow creaking shoes of the old
    waiter approaching, and he stood his ground manfully.
     
     
     
     
    Chapter XVIII
     
    THE WARDEN IS VERY OBSTINATE
     
     
    “Dr Grantly is here, sir,” greeted his ears before the door was well
    open, “and Mrs Grantly.  They have a sitting-room above, and are
    waiting up for you.”
     
    There was something in the tone of the man’s voice which seemed to
    indicate that even he looked upon the warden as a runaway schoolboy,
    just recaptured by his guardian, and that he pitied the culprit,
    though he could not but be horrified at the crime.
     
    The warden endeavoured to appear unconcerned, as he said, “Oh, indeed!
    I’ll go upstairs at once;” but he failed signally.  There was,
    perhaps, a ray of comfort in the presence of his married daughter;
    that is to say, of comparative comfort, seeing that his son-in-law
    was there; but how much would he have preferred that they should both
    have been safe at Plumstead Episcopi!  However, upstairs he went,
    the waiter slowly preceding him; and on the door being opened the
    archdeacon was discovered standing in the middle of the room, erect,
    indeed, as usual, but oh! how sorrowful! and on the dingy sofa behind
    him reclined his patient wife.
     
    “Papa, I thought you were never coming back,” said the lady; “it’s
    twelve o’clock.”
     
    “Yes, my dear,” said the warden.  “The attorney-general named ten for
    my meeting; to be sure ten is late, but what could I do, you know?
    Great men will have their own way.”
     
    And he gave his daughter a kiss, and shook hands with the doctor, and
    again tried to look unconcerned.
     
    “And you have absolutely been with the attorney-general?” fragte der
    archdeacon.
     
    Mr Harding signified that he had.
     
    “Good heavens, how unfortunate!”  And the archdeacon raised his huge
    hands in the manner in which his friends are so accustomed to see him
    express disapprobation and astonishment.  “What will Sir Abraham think
    of it?  Did you not know that it is not customary for clients to go
    direct to their counsel?”
     
    “Isn’t it?” asked the warden, innocently.  “Well, at any rate, I’ve
    done it now.  Sir Abraham didn’t seem to think it so very strange.”
     
    The archdeacon gave a sigh that would have moved a man-of-war.
     
    “But, papa, what did you say to Sir Abraham?” asked the lady.
     
    “I asked him, my dear, to explain John Hiram’s will to me.  He
    couldn’t explain it in the only way which would have satisfied me,
    and so I resigned the wardenship.”
     
    “Resigned it!” said the archdeacon, in a solemn voice, sad and low,
    but yet sufficiently audible,—a sort of whisper that Macready would
    have envied, and the galleries have applauded with a couple of rounds.
    “Resigned it!  Good heavens!”  And the dignitary of the church sank
    back horrified into a horsehair arm-chair.
     
    “At least I told Sir Abraham that I would resign; and of course I must
    now do so.”
     
    “Not at all,” said the archdeacon, catching a ray of hope. “Nichts
    that you say in such a way to your own counsel can be in any way
    binding on you; of course you were there to ask his advice.  I’m sure
    Sir Abraham did not advise any such step.”
     
    Mr Harding could not say that he had.
     
    “I am sure he disadvised you from it,” continued the reverend
    cross-examiner.
     
    Mr Harding could not deny this.
     
    “I’m sure Sir Abraham must have advised you to consult your friends.”
     
    To this proposition also Mr Harding was obliged to assent.
     
    “Then your threat of resignation amounts to nothing, and we are just
    where we were before.”
     
    Mr Harding was now standing on the rug, moving uneasily from one foot
    zum anderen. He made no distinct answer to the archdeacon’s last
    proposition, for his mind was chiefly engaged on thinking how he could
    escape to bed.  That his resignation