The Grey Room by Eden Phillpotts


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Page 36

"He has faith, and I am sorry that you lack it."

"No, Mr. May, you must not say that. It is entirely reasonable
that Mannering should ask you to consider others," said Sir Walter.
"To you a sudden and peaceful death might be no ill; but it would
be a very serious ill to the living--a loss to your work on earth,
which is not done, a shock and grief to those who respect you, and
a reflection on all here."

"Let the living minister to the living and put their trust in God."

Mannering spoke to the vicar of Chadlands.

"What do you think, Prodgers? You are a parson, too, yet may be
able to see with our eyes. Surely common sense shouldn't be left
out of our calculations, even if they concern the next world?"

"I respect Mr. May's faith," answered the younger priest, "and
assuredly I believe that if we eliminate all physical and natural
causes from poor Captain May's death, then no member of our sacred
calling should fear to spend the night alone in that room. Jacob
wrestled with the angel of light. Shall the servants of God fear
to oppose a dark angel?"

"Well spoken," said Mr. May.

"But that is not all, sir," continued Noel Prodgers. "It is
impossible that we can share such certainty as you claim.
Probability lies entirely against it. This has happened twice,
remember, and each time a valuable and precious life disappears,
for causes beyond our knowledge. That, however, is no reason for
assuming the causes are beyond all human knowledge. We do not all
possess learning in physics. I would venture most earnestly to
beg you to desist, at least until much more has been done and this
famous professional man has made such researches as his genius
suggests. That is only reasonable, and reason, after all, is a
mighty gift of God--a gift, no doubt, often abused by finite beings,
who actually use it to defy the Giver--yet none the less, in its
proper place, the handmaid of faith and the light of true progress."

But Septimus May argued against him. "To shelter behind reason at
such a moment is to blunt the sword of the spirit," he replied,
"and human reason is never the handmaid of faith, as you wrongly
suggest, but her obdurate, unsleeping foe. That which metaphysicians
call intuition, and which I call the voice of God, tells me in clear
tones that my boy died by no human agency whatever and by no natural
accident. He was wrapt from this life to the next in the twinkling
of an eye by forces, or a force, concerning which we know nothing
save through the Word of God. I will go farther. I will venture
to declare that this death-dealing ghost, or discarnate but
conscious being, may not be, as you say, a dark angel--perhaps not
wholly evil--perhaps not evil at all. One thing none can question--
it did the will of its Creator, as we all must, and we are not,
therefore, justified in asserting that a malignant force was
exerted. To say so is to speak in terms of our own bitter loss and
our own aching hearts. But we are justified in believing that a
fearful, unknown power was liberated during the night that Tom
died, and I desire to approach that power upon my knees and with
my life in my Maker's hands."

The conviction of this righteous but superstitious soul was uttered
with passionate zeal. He puzzled to understand how fellow
Christians could argue against him, and much resented the fact that
Sir Walter withstood his claim and declined to permit the experiment
he desired to make. A formalist and precisian, he held any sort of
doubt to be backsliding before the message in his own heart. They
argued unavailingly with him, and Henry Lennox suggested a
compromise.

"Why is it vital, after all, that only one should undertake this
ordeal?" he asked. "I begged you to let me try--for revenge."

"Do not use that word," said Mr. Prodgers.

"Well, at any rate, I feel just as great a call to be there as
Tom's father can feel--just as pressing a demand and desire.
There may have been foul play. At any rate, the thing was done
by an active agency, and Tom was taken in some way at a
disadvantage. There was no fair fight, I'll swear. He was
evidently kneeling, calmly enough looking out of the window, when
he died, and the blow must have been a coward's blow, struck from
behind, whoever struck it."

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Wed 3rd Dec 2025, 10:14