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Preface

In the past 10 to 15 years there has been an explosion of research


on neurologic development, the neurofunction underlying lan-
guage and learning, and the neurologic basis of developmental dis-
orders. One of the factors contributing to this rapid increase in
information is the availability of noninvasive neurofunctional and
neuroimaging techniques that can be used with children and adults
with developmental disorders. In addition, cognitive scientists have
contributed large numbers of behavioral studies that have led to
greater understanding of information processing and learning in
both typical and atypical populations.
Related to the advances in cognitive science and neuroscience
is a growing interest in the development of teaching strategies that
are based on an understanding of the brain-behavior relationship.
This is an area of interest to speech-language pathologists and spe-
cial educators who work with children with developmental lan-
guage disorders. Unfortunately, most of the relevant research is in
highly specialized publications that are not readily available outside
research and academic settings. Cognitive science or neuroscience
textbooks that offer an integration of published research are not
focused on developmental language disorders, nor are they written
from a clinical perspective. I wrote this book to fill that gap, to
make recent cognitive science and neuroscience research accessi-
ble so that it could be integrated into clinical and educational prac-
tice with children with developmental language disorders.
This book was written for graduate students, practicing speech-
language pathologists, and special educators. The information is
presented at a level that can be understood by professionals out-
side the fields of cognitive science and neuroscience. Moreover,
this book is written from the perspective of a speech-language
pathologist and special educator so that it includes information
that is important for a practicing professional. In addition, I have
integrated the information and directly applied it to assessment and

vii
00_Williams_i-xivFM 6/16/09 8:51 AM Page viii

viii Developmental Language Disorders: Learning, Language, and the Brain

intervention of children and adolescents with developmental lan-


guage disorders.
I have had a unique career path that makes it possible for me
to translate cognitive science and neuroscience for clinical practi-
tioners and special educators. In my clinical practice as a speech-
language pathologist, I specialize in treating pediatric populations,
particularly those with challenging communication disorders. The
children I have served have had autism, cerebral palsy, mental retar-
dation, fetal alcohol syndrome, specific language impairment, and
a variety of genetic conditions including Fragile X, Down syndrome,
and Williams syndrome. I have worked with children from birth
into adulthood in a variety of clinical settings including the neo-
natal intensive care unit, inpatient pediatric units, community-based
agencies and clinics, public schools, group homes, and university
clinics. After 18 years of full-time clinical practice, I returned to
school to pursue my doctorate in speech-language pathology. My
area of emphasis was pediatric neurogenics with courses in cogni-
tive neuroscience, neurologic development, and the neural basis of
pediatric speech and language problems. After obtaining my doc-
toral degree, I completed a postdoctoral fellowship with Nancy J.
Minshew, M.D., a pediatric neurologist and director of the Center for
Autism Research at the University of Pittsburgh. During my post-
doctoral fellowship, I took additional coursework in neuroimaging
and completed a number of neuropsychological research projects in
autism. I was then awarded a Research Career Development Award
from the National Institute on Deafness and Other Communication
Disorders to study the neurocognitive basis of language processing
in autism. This award allowed me to complete additional course-
work at Carnegie Mellon University in cognitive neuroscience and
neuroimaging. I also began to conduct neuroimaging research under
the mentorship of Marcel A. Just, Ph.D., D.O., Hebb Professor of Psy-
chology and the Director of the Center for Cognitive Brain Imaging
at Carnegie Mellon. I have completed a number of research projects
using functional magnetic resonance imaging to study cognitive
and linguistic processing in autism. In my current research, I use
functional imaging to investigate social, emotional, and language
processing in children and adults with autism. I have continued to
practice clinically through my work as the Director of the Child
Language Program in the Department of Speech-Language Pathol-
ogy at Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, PA.
00_Williams_i-xivFM 6/16/09 8:51 AM Page ix

Preface ix

This book focuses on what is known about the neurobiologi-


cal basis of language development, the learning of language, and
developmental disorders that affect language learning and use. It
takes the perspective that assessment and intervention of children
and adolescents with developmental language disorders should
incorporate an understanding of the underlying neurofunctional
basis of those disorders. The initial chapters present a primer of
neuroanatomy and neurophysiology that relates to developmental
disorders and neurologic development during the prenatal period.
They also cover neurologic development postnatally through child-
hood and young adulthood including what is currently known
about the effects of the environment on brain organization and
learning. Chapter 3 provides background information on neuro-
functional and neuroimaging techniques for those who may not be
familiar with these methods. The following chapters present cur-
rent research on the neurologic basis of developmental language
disorders, dyslexia, autism, and genetic conditions associated with
mental retardation (e.g., Down syndrome, Fragile X, and Williams
syndrome). The last three chapters focus on the translation of cog-
nitive science and neuroscience concepts and research findings to
the design of assessment and intervention for disordered language.
I first present basic principles and concepts and then more specific
suggestions for early intervention and then for assessment and
intervention with older children and adolescents. The suggestions
offered in the last chapters are in no way exhaustive but are meant
to stimulate the reader’s thinking in this area and facilitate the
application of the information to clinical practice and teaching.
My position as an academic researcher gives me access to a
vast array of published research and the time to read and write that
is not generally available to practicing speech-language pathologists
and special educators. In writing this book, I hope to be useful to my
fellow practitioners, to enhance their clinical practice and teaching
as they work every day to make life better for children who live
with the challenge of developmental language disorders.

Diane L. Williams
00_Williams_i-xivFM 6/10/09 10:53 AM Page x
00_Williams_i-xivFM 6/10/09 10:53 AM Page xi

Acknowledgments

Although this book has only one author, it represents the contribu-
tions of a large number of people. First and most important are the
children, adolescents, and adults with whom it has been my great
pleasure to work over a 30-year career. They have taught me a great
deal about how persistently learning occurs, even when one is born
with a developmental difference. My mentors, Nancy Minshew and
Marcel Just, have generously allowed me to share in their research
lives and have taught me enormous amounts about the brain and
cognitive function. My husband, Jim, and children, Kelsey, Doug,
and Nate, encouraged and supported me, and made contributions
both large and small. My colleague and friend, Ann Meyler, gener-
ously reviewed and made suggestions on the sections on dyslexia.
Julia Zona generously produced the figures for Chapters 1 and 2
and read, edited, and checked every page of the manuscript. Katie
Belardi provided editing and moral support. Stephen Dewhurst’s
expertise was invaluable in putting the final touches on the
figures. Without these contributions, this book would not have be-
come a reality.

xi
00_Williams_i-xivFM 6/10/09 10:53 AM Page xii
00_Williams_i-xivFM 6/10/09 10:53 AM Page xiii

To Jim
You made me believe it was possible when
I thought it wasn’t.
00_Williams_i-xivFM 6/10/09 10:53 AM Page xiv
01_Williams_1-38 6/10/09 10:54 AM Page 1

SECTION I

Brain Development for Learning


01_Williams_1-38 6/10/09 10:54 AM Page 2
01_Williams_1-38 6/10/09 10:54 AM Page 3

Chapter 1

HOW THE BRAIN IS


ORGANIZED FOR
LEARNING LANGUAGE

INTERACTION OF NATURE AND NURTURE

Children come genetically preprogrammed with the brain processes


necessary for learning and, more specifically, for learning language.
These preprogrammed abilities interact with environmental input
so that children learn the cultural and linguistic system within which
they live. At the same time, the unique experiences of the individ-
ual child modify brain functioning. Modifications include strength-
ening or weakening of some neural connections while enhancing
or diminishing various brain functions. Language abilities of chil-
dren are neither completely predetermined by their innate abilities
nor entirely the result of environmental input. Essentially, language
results from an intricate relationship between nature and nurture.
Nature makes language learning possible. However, nurture is nec-
essary for language learning to occur. Fortuitously for those of us
who spend our lives as therapists and teachers, the type and amount
of environmental input makes a difference. In other words, if we
understand more about how the brain functions to perform learning
and language use, potentially we can expand the language skills of
all children, including those with developmental conditions that

3
01_Williams_1-38 6/10/09 10:54 AM Page 4

4 Developmental Language Disorders: Learning, Language, and the Brain

make learning more challenging. The latter statement should not


be interpreted to mean that all children have equal potential for
learning language. For all of us, there are biological constraints or
limits on the potential of brain development. However, even given
these biological limits, learning studies suggest that there is poten-
tial for skill acquisition if the appropriate methods are employed.
To choose appropriate methods, we must understand more about
the brain, how it develops in response to the environment, and
how it processes information. We also must understand the biolog-
ical constraints associated with individual genetic variability and
the variability imposed by developmental disorders.
This chapter is the beginning of the process of understanding
the brain and how it functions to produce cognition, learning, and
language. Ideally, this understanding will result in more thoughtful
and directed interventions for children with developmental lan-
guage disorders.

BRAIN-BASED MODELS OF DEVELOPMENTAL


LANGUAGE DISORDERS

There are many different explanations of language acquisition and


related models of developmental language disorders. In this book,
the bias is toward what has been referred to as biologically, neuro-
biologically, or brain-based models (Bates, Thal, Finlay, & Clancey,
2003; Karmiloff & Karmiloff-Smith, 2001) and the related accounts
based on information processing models of language and cognition
(e.g., Bates & MacWhinney, 1989; MacWhinney, 1987). I have found
these approaches to be the most useful guides for both my research
and my clinical practice. Other approaches to explaining and describ-
ing language acquisition, such as behavioral approaches (based on
the work of Skinner, 1957), linguistic approaches (based on the
work of Chomsky, 1965), cognitive approaches (based on the work
of Piaget, 1954), and social-interaction approaches (based on the
work of Vygotsky, 1962) are useful clinical guides for developmen-
tal language disorders. Many resources are available on the applica-
tion of these approaches to the clinical practice of speech-language
pathology and the practice of special education. My intention in this
book is to make resources available on the neurobiological basis of
language and learning. It is intended for practitioners working with
01_Williams_1-38 6/10/09 10:54 AM Page 5

How the Brain Is Organized for Learning Language 5

children and adults who have language impairments associated


with developmental disabilities. This book provides: (1) background
information on the development and maturation of the neural sys-
tems underlying learning and more specifically, language learning,
(2) current understanding of the neurologic basis of language pro-
cessing based on neurofunctional research, (3) recent research on
the neurobiologic basis of learning in developmental disorders
associated with problems with language learning, and (4) information
on what has been termed brain-based assessment and intervention
practices as these relate to developmental language disorders.
Brain-based models of language development are rooted in cog-
nitive neuroscience, which is the marriage of cognitive psychology
(the study of human memory and learning) and neuroscience (the
study of neural development and functioning). Brain-based models of
language development therefore, are based on the study of language
development in relation to neurologic development. The basic
assumption of a brain-based model is that language development can-
not fully be understood apart from an understanding of the biological
development of the brain. A brain-based approach to developmental
language disorders requires both an understanding of normal neu-
rologic development and an understanding of the effects of the atyp-
ical neurologic development associated with a particular disorder.

KEY CONCEPTS OF BRAIN-BASED MODELS OF


LANGUAGE DEVELOPMENT
There are a number of key concepts of brain-based models of lan-
guage development:

1. Whereas language development is based on the genetically con-


trolled unfolding of brain maturation, this maturation occurs in
response to environmental input. Language development is
influenced by both genetic and environmental factors.
2. Although language comprehension and production involve
language-specific brain mechanisms, more general cognitive
resources in the brain are also incorporated into the various
types of language processes.
3. There are a number of sensitive periods, or critical windows of
opportunity, during cognitive and linguistic development. These
01_Williams_1-38 6/10/09 10:54 AM Page 6

6 Developmental Language Disorders: Learning, Language, and the Brain

periods are thought to be associated with key periods of neu-


ronal/brain development. Sensitive periods are times when the
brain is ready for learning in the sense that neural mechanisms
are available for the processing task. These periods also are
times when the brain needs to have input to proceed on an
optimal developmental course.
4. Learning is realized as functional and/or structural changes in
the brain.
5. The presence of a developmental condition such as autism,
Down syndrome, Fragile X, Williams syndrome, dyslexia, or spe-
cific language impairment, will interfere with the development
of language because it interferes with brain development and
alters the way the brain responds to environmental input.

INFORMATION-PROCESSING MODELS
Models of language learning that are based on cognitive neuroscience
may also incorporate information-processing models of learning.
Current models of brain function often incorporate concepts of
information-processing, frequently using analogies and terminology
borrowed from computing.According to information-processing mod-
els of language learning, language comprehension occurs as follows:

1. The brain encodes stimuli from the environment. In the case


of spoken language, this input is in the form of sound waves.
These sound waves are neurally encoded so that the brain can
use the input. In the case of written language, the input is orthog-
raphy, which is neurally encoded through the visual system.
2. The brain recognizes statistical regularities in the input and
weighs information so that the most salient information receives
more processing attention.
3. The phonological, syntactic, semantic, and pragmatic elements
of the message are processed.
4. The meaning of the information is extracted from these ele-
ments. The meaning of the message is stored using the brain’s
memory system.
01_Williams_1-38 6/10/09 10:54 AM Page 7

How the Brain Is Organized for Learning Language 7

5. As a human develops, extraction of meaning also includes the


retrieval of previously stored information as well as the integra-
tion of newly processed information with previously learned
and stored information.
6. The processing of language is influenced by nonlinguistic and
linguistic contexts within which it occurs. This contextual
information may involve other brain regions and require the
integration of information within and across brain regions.

Language expression occurs as follows:

1. The speaker/writer conceives of an utterance or idea they want


to express.
2. The message is encoded using lexical and grammatical elements.
3. These lexical and grammatical elements are translated into
appropriate phonological codes.
4. These phonological codes are translated into articulatory motor
sequences in the case of speech and graphomotor sequences
in the case of writing.
5. These motor sequences are produced by the motor system,
which includes the motor cortex and the cerebellum.
6. In the case of speech, these motor sequences guide the articu-
latory and vocal systems to produce auditory information. In
the case of written language, the motor sequences guide fine
motor movements to write or type visual information.
7. Context influences the expression of language, placing partic-
ular demands on prosodic and pragmatic variables that require
integration of information across regions of the brain.

During the developmental process, the brain uses language


input to help organize the cortical networks necessary for learning
and using language. As the brain processes more language input, it
becomes a more efficient and skilled processor of language. There-
fore, language processing requires specific or dedicated language-
processing mechanisms, but it also requires more general cognitive
mechanisms such as attention and working memory.
01_Williams_1-38 6/10/09 10:54 AM Page 8

8 Developmental Language Disorders: Learning, Language, and the Brain

FUNCTION FOLLOWS STRUCTURE

To understand neurologically based models of language development


and language disorders, it is essential to understand the brain, how
it develops, how it functions, and how it changes through interac-
tion with the environment. The following sections provide some
readers a refresher and other readers a primer of information about
the brain, which will facilitate the understanding of what is to fol-
low in this book. We first review the basic organization of the nerv-
ous system and the brain structures that are relevant for language,
learning, and cognition. Then we cover neurologic development
through the gestational period. This material provides the back-
ground for Chapter 2. In Chapter 2 we discuss brain development
during the postnatal, childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood
periods, neural systems or cortical networks, and how the brain is
organized for learning and processing information.

CORTEX
The central nervous system is composed of the brain and spinal
cord. Although these are two parts of an integral system, this book’s
focus is on the brain because it is the portion of the central nerv-
ous system that is primarily involved in language and learning.
The brain is composed of cortical (cortex) and subcortical struc-
tures. The cortex is divided into two cerebral hemispheres,
each having separate and homologous (corresponding or similar)
functions.
The surface of the cortex is characterized by an interfolding of
gray matter. Gray matter is composed of neurons or nerve cell
bodies. The interfolding of the gray matter results in gyri and sulci
(Figure 1–1). Gyri are the “hills” or elevations and sulci are the
“valleys” or depressions of the cortical surface. The gyri and sulci
increase the available surface area of the cortex while not increas-
ing the overall size of the brain. Therefore, more computational
power is available without having to have a bigger brain.
In addition to the neurons, the cortex is composed of glial
cells. These are cells that provide support and nutrition to the neu-
rons and insulation between neurons. Without the glial cells, the
neurons cannot survive and perform their functions.
01_Williams_1-38 6/10/09 10:54 AM Page 9

How the Brain Is Organized for Learning Language 9

Figure 1–1. Lateral view of the surface of the cortex showing the gyri,
sulci, and four lobes.

Specialized glial cells surround axons or projections from the


neurons (Figure 1–2). These glial cells are important because they
help increase the speed by which neural signals can be transmitted
throughout the brain. These specialized glial cells form a fatty
sheath around the axons called myelin. These myelinated nerve
fibers compose the part of the brain called white matter.
Each of the cerebral hemispheres is further divided into four
major lobes: the frontal lobe, the temporal lobe, the parietal lobe,
and the occipital lobe (see Figure 1–1). Traditional models of neu-
rological function have assigned particular types of processing to
each of the cerebral lobes. Modern neuroimaging and neurophysi-
ologic measures indicate that, although the traditional divisions are
generally true, the answer to what type of processing is accom-
plished by each lobe actually is more complex. Certainly, there
are specialized brain areas, but we have come to understand that
the brain has a high level of plasticity when it comes to function.
01_Williams_1-38 6/10/09 10:54 AM Page 10

10 Developmental Language Disorders: Learning, Language, and the Brain

Figure 1–2. Structures of the neuron.

In addition, no task is performed by one area acting alone. We start


with the simplest descriptions and then build on these to develop
a more refined understanding. According to the traditional divi-
sions, the occipital lobes process visual information, the parietal
lobes are involved in the processing of spatial information and
mathematical calculations, the temporal lobes are involved in the
processing of auditory input and the comprehension of language,
and the frontal lobes are essential for executive functions such as
working memory, attention, planning, organization, set shifting,
and goal monitoring. In accordance with these traditional divisions,
different types of information processing primarily are associated
with different cortical regions. For example, the occipital lobe often
is referred to as the visual processing area, and the temporal lobe is
referred to as the auditory language processing area. However, it
probably is more accurate to think of these areas as specialized
areas that have neural structures that lend themselves well to the
processing demands of that type of information.
Some areas of the cortex are referred to as the association cor-
tex. These are areas of the cortex with functions that are not strictly
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and I hadn’t the heart to question him about it. Besides, it wasn’t my
place. I expect you’ll find that he never told any one.”
“One could ask the medico, I suppose. But they’re devilish close,
ain’t they, those fellows.”
“You’ve got to find out his name first. Mottram was very secret
about it; if he wrote to make an appointment, the letter wasn’t sent
through me. It’s a difficult job, circularizing Harley Street.”
“All the same the doctor in Pullford might know. He probably
recommended somebody.”
“What doctor in Pullford? I don’t believe Mottram’s been to a
doctor any time these last five years. I was always asking him to
these last few months because he told me he was worried about his
health, though he never told me what the symptoms were. It’s
difficult to explain his secretiveness to anybody who didn’t know him.
But, look here, if you’re inclined to think that his story about going to
a specialist was all a lie, you’re on the wrong track.”
“You feel certain of that?”
“Absolutely certain. Look at his position. In two years’ time he
was due to get a whacking annuity from your company if he lived. He
was prepared to drop his claim if the company would pay back half
his premiums. You’ve heard that, I expect? Well, where was the
sense of that, unless he really thought he was going to die?”
“You can’t think of any other reason for his wanting to do himself
in? Just bored with life, don’t you know, or what not?”
“Talk sense, Mr. Bredon. You know as well as I do that all the
suicides one hears of come from money troubles, or disappointment
in love, or sheer melancholia, There’s no question of money
troubles; his lawyers will tell you that. He was not at the time of life
when men fall badly in love, bachelors anyhow; and his name was
never coupled with a woman’s. And as for melancholia, nobody who
knew him could suspect him of it.”
“I see you’re quite convinced that it was suicide. No question of
accident, you think, or of dirty work at the crossroads? These rich
men have enemies, don’t they?”
“In story-books. But I doubt if any living soul would have laid
hands on Mottram. And as for accident, how would you connect it
with all this yarn about the specialist? And why was the door of his
room locked when he died? You can ask the servants at Pullford;
they’ll tell you that his room was never locked when he was at home;
and the Boots here will tell you that he had orders to bring in
shaving-water first thing.”
“Oh, his door was locked, was it? Fact is, I’ve heard very little
about how the thing was discovered. I suppose you were one of the
party when the body was found?”
“I was. I’m not likely to forget it. Not that I’ve any objection to
suicide; mark you, I think it’s a fine thing, very often; and the
Christian condemnation of it merely echoes a private quarrel
between St. Augustine and some heretics of his day. But it breaks
you up rather when you find a man you said ‘Good-night’ to the night
before lying there all gassed. . . . However, you want to know the
details. The Boots tried to get in with the shaving-water, and found
the door locked; tried to look through the keyhole and couldn’t; came
round to me and told me about it. I was afraid something must be
wrong, and I didn’t quite like breaking down the door with only the
Boots to help me. Then I looked out of the window, and saw the
doctor here, a man called Ferrers, going down to take his morning
bath. The Boots went and fetched him, and he agreed the only thing
was to break down the door. Well, that was easier than we thought.
There was a beastly smell of gas about, of course, even in the
passage. The doctor went up to the gas, you know, and found it
turned off. I don’t know how that happened; the tap’s very loose,
anyhow, and I fancy he may have turned it off himself without
knowing it. Then he went to the bed, and it didn’t take him a couple
of minutes to find out that poor old Mottram was dead, and what he’d
died of. The key was found on the inside of the door, turned so that
the lock was fastened. Between you and me, I have a feeling that
Leyland is wondering about that tap. But it’s obvious that nobody got
into the room, and dead men don’t turn off taps. I can’t piece it
together except as suicide myself. I’m afraid your company will be
able to call me as a witness.”
“Well, of course it’s all jam to them. Not that they mind coughing
up much; but it’s the principle of the thing, you see. They don’t like to
encourage suicide. By the way, can you tell me who the heirs are?
What I mean is, I suppose a man doesn’t insure his life and then
take it unless he makes certain who comes in for the bullion?”
“The heirs, as I was saying at supper, are local people. Actually a
nephew, I believe—I didn’t want to say more at the time, because I
think between ourselves that Mr. Pulteney shows rather too much
curiosity. But Mottram quarrelled with this young fellow for some
reason—he owns the big shop here; and I’m pretty certain he won’t
be mentioned in the will.”
“Then you don’t know who the lucky fellow is?”
“Charities, I suppose. Mottram never discussed it with me. But I
imagine you could find out from the solicitors, because it’s bound to
be common property before long in any case.”
Bredon consulted, or affected to consult, a list of entries in his
pocketbook. “Well, that’s awfully kind of you. I think that’s all I wanted
to ask. Must think me a beastly interfering sort of fellow. Oh, one
other thing—is your room anywhere near the one Mr. Mottram had?
Would you have heard any sounds in the night, I mean, if there’d
been anything going on in his room above the ordinary?”
“My room’s exactly above, and my window must have been open.
If there were any suspicion of murder, I should be quite prepared to
give evidence that there was nothing in the nature of a violent
struggle. You see, I sleep pretty light, and that night I didn’t get to
sleep till after twelve. It was seven o’clock in the morning when we
found him, and the doctor seemed to think he’d been dead some
hours. I heard nothing at all from downstairs.”
“Well, I’m tremendously obliged to you. Perhaps we’d better be
wandering back, eh? You’re unmarried, of course, so you don’t have
people fussing about you when you sit out of an evening.” In this
happy vein of rather foolish good fellowship Bredon conducted his
fellow guest back to the inn; and it is to be presumed that Brinkman
did not feel that he had spent the evening in the company of a
Napoleonic brain.
Chapter VI.
An Ear at the Keyhole
On their return to their coffee room they found Mr. Pulteney in
sole possession, He was solemnly filling in a cross-word puzzle in a
daily newspaper about three weeks old. Leyland had gone off to the
bar parlour, intent on picking up the gossip of the village. Bredon
excused himself and went upstairs to find that Angela was not yet
thinking of bed, she had only got tired of a cross-word puzzle. “Well,”
she asked, “and what do you make of Mr. Brinkman?”
“I think he’s a bit deep. I think he knows just a little more about all
this than he says. However, I let him talk, and did my best to make
him think I was a fool.”
“That’s just what I’ve been doing with Mr. Pulteney. At least, I’ve
been playing the ingénue. I thought I was going to get him to call me
‘My dear young lady’—I love that; he very nearly did once or twice.”
“Did you find him deep?”
“Not in that way. Miles, I forbid you to suspect Mr. Pulteney; he’s
my favourite man. He told me that suicide generally followed, instead
of preceding, the arrival of young ladies. I giggled.”
“I wish he’d drown himself. He’s one too many in this darned
place. And it’s all confusing enough without him.”
“Want me to put in some Watson work?”
“If you aren’t wanting to go to bed.” Watson work meant that
Angela tried to suggest new ideas to her husband under a mask of
carefully assumed stupidity. “You see, I’m all for suicide. My instincts
tell me that it’s suicide. I can smell it in the air.”
“I only smelt acetylene. Why suicide particularly?”
“Well, there’s the locked door. I’ve still got to see the Boots and
verify Brinkman’s facts; but a door locked on the inside, with barred
windows, makes nonsense of Leyland’s idea.”
“But a murderer might want to lock the door, so as to give himself
time to escape.”
“Exactly; but he’d lock it on the outside. On the other hand, a
locked door looks like suicide, because, unless Brinkman is lying,
Mottram didn’t lock his door as a rule; and the Boots had orders to
go into the room with shaving-water that morning.”
“Why the Boots? Why not the maid?”
“Angela, don’t be so painfully modern! Maid servants at country
hotels don’t. They leave some tepid water on the mat, make a gentle
rustling noise at the door, and tiptoe away. No, I’m sure he locked
the door for fear Brinkman should come in in the middle—or
Pulteney, of course, might have come to the wrong door by mistake.
He wanted to be left undisturbed.”
“But not necessarily in order to commit suicide.”
“You mean he might have fallen asleep over something else he
was doing? Writing a letter for example, to the Pullford Examiner?
But in that case he wouldn’t have been in bed. You can’t gas yourself
by accident except in your sleep. Then there’s another thing—the
Bertillon mark on the gas-tap. Leyland is smart enough to know the
difference between the mark you leave when you turn it on and the
mark you leave when you turn it off. But he won’t follow out his own
conclusions. If Mottram had gone to bed in the ordinary way, as he
must have in the event of foul play or accident, we should have seen
where he turned it off as well as where he turned it on. The point is,
Mottram didn’t turn the light on at all. He went to bed in the half-
darkness, took his sleeping draught, and turned on the gas.”
“But, angel pet, how could he write a long letter to the Pullford
paper in the half-darkness? And how did he read his shocker in the
half-darkness? Let’s be just to poor Mr. Leyland, though he is in the
force.”
“I was coming on to that. Meanwhile, I say he didn’t light the gas.
Because if you want to light the gas you have to do it in two places,
and the match he used, the only match we found in the room, had
hardly burned for a second.”
“Then why did he strike a match at all?”
“I’m coming to that too. Finally, there’s the question of the taps. A
murderer would want to make certain of doing his work quickly,
therefore he would make sure that the gas was pouring out of both
jets, the one on the bracket on the wall and the one on the standard
lamp by the window. The suicide, if he means to die in his sleep, isn’t
in a hurry to go off. On the contrary, he wants to make sure that his
sleeping draught takes effect before the gas fumes become
objectionable. So he turns on only one of the two jets, and that is the
one farthest away from him. Isn’t that all right?”
“You are ingenious, you know, Miles, occasionally. I’m always so
afraid that one day you’ll find me out. Now let’s hear about all the
things you were just coming to.”
“Well, you see, it isn’t a simple case of suicide. Why should it be?
People who have taken out a Euthanasia policy don’t want Tom, Dick
and Harry to know—more particularly, they don’t want Miles Bredon
to know—that they have committed suicide. They have the habit, as I
know from experience, of trying to put up a little problem in detection
for me, the brutes!”
“You shouldn’t be angry with them, Miles. After all, if they didn’t
the Indescribable might sack you, and then where would Francis’s
new tam-o’-shanter come from?”
“Don’t interrupt, woman! This is a case of suicide with
complications, and dashed ingenious ones. In the first place, we
noticed that entry in the visitors’ book. That’s an attempt to make it
look as if he expected a long stay here, before he went to bed.
Actually, through not studying the habits of the Wilkinsons, he
overshot himself there—a little too ingenious. We know that when he
did that he was simply trying to lead us up the garden; but we were
too clever for him.”
“Let me merely mention the fact that it was I who spotted that
entry. But pray proceed.”
“Then he did two quite irreconcilable things: he took a sleeping
draught and he asked to be called early. Now, a man who’s on a
holiday, and is afraid he won’t sleep, doesn’t make arrangements to
be called early in the morning. We know that he took the sleeping
draught so as to die painlessly; and as for being called early in the
morning it was probably so as to give the impression that his death
was quite unpremeditated. He took several other precautions for the
same reason.”
“Such as?”
“He wound up his watch. Leyland noticed that, but he didn’t
notice that it was an eight-day watch. A methodical person winds up
his eight-day watch on Sunday; once more, Mottram was a tiny bit
too ingenious. Then he put the studs out ready in his shirt. Very few
people when they’re on holiday take the trouble to do that. Mottram
did because he wanted us to think that he meant to get up the next
morning in the ordinary way.”
“And the next article?”
“The window. A murderer, not taking any risks, would shut the
window, or see that it was shut, before he turned the gas on. A man
going to bed in the ordinary way would either shut it completely or
else open it to its full extent, where the hasp catches, so that in
either case it shouldn’t bang during the night. Mottram left his
window ajar, not enough open to let the gas escape much. But he
knew that in the morning the door would have to be knocked in, and
with that sudden rush of air the window would swing open. Which is
exactly what happened.”
“I believe he wrote and told you about all this beforehand.”
“Silence, woman! He left a shocker by his bedside, to make us
think that he went to bed at peace with all the world. In real life, if you
take a dose you don’t read yourself to sleep as well. Besides, if he
had been wanting to read in bed he would have brought the standard
lamp over to his bedside so as to put it out last thing. Further, he had
a letter ready written, or rather half-written, which he left on the
blotting-pad. But he hadn’t written it there—he wrote it downstairs. I
found the place where he had blotted it on the pad in the dining-
room. Another deliberate effort to suggest that he had gone to sleep
peacefully, leaving a job half-finished. And then, of course, there was
the match.”
“You mean he only struck it to give the impression that he’d lit the
gas, but didn’t really light it? I’m getting the hang of the thing, aren’t
I? By the way, he couldn’t have lit another match and thrown it out of
the window?”
“Very unlikely. Only smokers, and tidy ones at that, throw
matches out of the window. He either had one match left in his
pocket or borrowed one from Brinkman. But he didn’t use it; suicides
like the dark. There’s one other tiny point—you see that?” He took up
a large, cheap Bible which stood at the bedside of their own room.
“There’s a society which provides those, and of course there’s one
for each room. Mottram had taken his away from the bedside and
put it in a drawer. It’s funny how superstitious we men are, when all’s
said and done.”
“That’s a tiny bit grooly, isn’t it? Well, when are you going to dig
the grave at the crossroads and borrow a stake from the local
carpenter?”
“Well, you see, there’s just that trifling difficulty about the tap
being turned off. Leyland is right in saying that dead men don’t do
that sort of thing.”
“What’s Brinky’s explanation?”
“Mr. Brinkman, to whom you were only introduced three hours
ago, thinks the doctor turned it off accidentally in the morning. That’s
nonsense, of course. His idea was that the tap was very loose, but it
wasn’t, really—Leyland had it loosened on purpose, so as to be able
to turn it without obliterating the finger-marks. If it hadn’t been stiff, of
course, there’d have been no marks left at all. So there’s a three-
pipe problem for you, my dear Mrs. Hudson.”
Angela’s forehead wrinkled becomingly. “Two problems, my poor
old Lestrade. How did the tap get turned off, and why does Brinky
want us to think it got turned off accidental? I always like you to have
plenty of theories, because it keeps your mind active; but with my
well-known womanly intuition I should say it was a plain issue
between the locked door, which means suicide, and the turned-off
tap, which means murder. Did I hear you putting a fiver on it with
Leyland?”
“You did. There’s dashed little you don’t hear.”
“Well, if you’ve got a fiver on it, of course it’s got to be suicide.
That’s a good, wifely point of view, isn’t it? I wish it were the other
way round; I believe I could account for that door if I were put to it.
But I won’t; I wonder how Leyland’s getting on?”
“Well, he’s worse off than we are, because he’s got to get over
the door trouble, and he’s got to find a motive for the murder and a
criminal to convict of it. We score there; if it’s suicide, there can be
no two theories about the criminal! And we know the motive—partly,
anyhow. Mottram did it in order to make certain of that half-million for
his legatees. And we shall soon know who they are. The only motive
that worries me is Brinkman’s: Why’s he so keen on its being
suicide? Perhaps the will would make that clear too. . . . I can’t work
it out at present.” He began to stride up and down the room. “I’m
perfectly certain about that door. It’s impossible that it should be a
spring-lock, in an old-fashioned hotel like this.” He went up to the
door of their room, and bent down to examine it. Then, with startling
suddenness, he turned the handle and threw it open. “Angela, come
here. . . . You see that picture in the passage? There’s no wind to
make it swing like that, is there?”
“You mean you think somebody’s been”——
“Just as I bent down to the door, I could have sworn I heard
footsteps going softly away. It must have been somebody actually at
the keyhole.”
“Why didn’t you run out?”
“Well, it makes it so dashed awkward to find somebody listening
and catch them at it. In some ways it’s much better to know that
somebody has been listening and for them not to know whether you
know or not. It’s confoundedly awkward, all the same.”
“Idiotic of us not to have remembered that we were in a country
pub, and that servants in country pubs still do listen at keyholes.”
“Servants? Well, ye-es. But Pulteney’s room is only just round
that corner.”
“Miles, I will not have you talking of poor old Edward like that.”
“Who told you his name was Edward?”
“It must be; you’ve only to look at him. Anyhow, he will always be
Edward to me. But he simply couldn’t listen at a keyhole. He would
regard it as a somewhat unconventional proceeding” (this with a fair
imitation of Mr. Pulteney’s voice). “Besides, he can’t nearly have
finished that cross-word yet. He’s very stupid without me to help him;
he will always put down ‘EMU’ when there’s a bird of three letters.”
“Well, anyhow, Brinkman’s room is only up one flight of stairs. As
you say, it may be the servants, or even Mrs. Davis herself; but I’d
like to feel sure of that. I wonder how much of what we said was
overheard.”
“Well, Miles dear, you ought to know. Don’t you remember how
you listened at the kitchen door in old Solomon’s house, and thought
you heard a man’s voice and found out afterward it was only the
loud-speaker?”
“Good God, why does one marry? Look here, I’m just going to
have a look around for old Leyland, and warn him that there’s dirty
work at the crossroads.”
“Yes, he must be careful not to soliloquize too much.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s time you went to bed; I won’t be more than half
an hour or so.”
“Not beyond closing time, in other words? Gosh, what a man!
Well, walk quietly, and don’t wake Edward.”
Bredon found Leyland still in the bar parlour, listening patiently to
the interminable theorizings of the oldest inhabitant. “That’s how it
was, you see. Tried to turn off the gars, and didn’t turn it off proper,
that’s what he did. He didn’t think to lay hands on himself, stands to
reason he didn’t. What for should he, and him so rich and all? Mark
you, I’ve known Mottram when he wasn’t no higher than that chair
yonder, not so much he wasn’t; and I know what I’m talking about.
I’ve seen suicides put away too, I have; I recollect poor Johnny
Pillock up at the toll-house; went mad he did, and hung himself off of
a tree the same as if it might be from the ceiling yonder. Ah! There
wasn’t no gars in them days. Good-night, Mr. Warren, and pleasant
dreams to you; you mind them stairs in your front garden. Yes,
powerful rich Mottram he was,” and so on without cessation or
remorse. It was nearly closing time before Bredon managed to drag
the policeman away and warn him that there were others (it
appeared) besides themselves who were interested in the secret of
the upstairs room.
Chapter VII.
From Leyland’s Note-Book
“Now that I have put that fiver on with Bredon, I begin to doubt
my own conclusions. That is the extraordinary effect of having a ‘will
to believe.’ As long as you have no prejudices in the case, no brief to
maintain, you can form a theory and feel that it is a mathematical
certainty. Directly you have a reason for wanting to believe the thing
true that same theory begins to look as if it had all sorts of holes in it.
Or rather, the whole theory seems fantastic—you have been basing
too much on insufficient evidence. Yesterday I was as certain that
the case was one of murder as I am certain of my own existence. To-
day I am developing scruples. Let me get it all down on paper,
anyhow; and I shall be able to shew my working to Bredon afterward,
however the case turns out.
“There is one indication which is absolutely vital, absolutely
essential: that is the turning off of the tap. That is the pinpoint of truth
upon which any theory must rest. I don’t say it’s easy to explain the
action; but it is an action, and the action demands an agent. The fact
that the gas was tampered with would convince me of foul play, even
if there were no other direct indications. There are such indications.
“In the first place, the window: If the window had stood all night
as it was found in the morning, wide open and held by its clasp,
there could have been no death. Pulteney tells me that there was a
strong east wind blowing most of the night, and you can trust a
fisherman to be accurate in these matters. The window, then, like the
gas, had been deliberately arranged in an artificial position between
Mottram’s death and the arrival of the rescue party. If the death had
been accidental, the window would have been shut and remained
shut all night. You do not leave a window half open, with nothing to
fix it, on a windy night. If it had been a case of suicide, it is equally
clear that the window would have remained shut all night. If you are
proposing to gas yourself you do not take risks of the window
blowing open and leaving you half-asphyxiated. There is only one
explanation of the open window, as there is of the gas-tap: and that
explanation involves the interference of a person or persons
unknown.
“Another direct indication is the match found in the grate.
Bredon’s suggestion that this match was used by the maid earlier in
the evening is quite impossible; there was a box on the mantelpiece,
which would be plainly visible in daylight, and it was not one of those
matches that was used. It was a smaller match, of a painfully
ordinary kind; Brinkman uses such matches, and Pulteney, and
probably every smoker within miles around. Now, the match was not
used to light the gas. It would have been necessary to light the gas
in two places, and the match would have burned some little way
down the stem, whereas this one was put out almost as soon as it
was lit. It must have been used, I think, to light the gas in the
passage outside, but of this I cannot be sure. It was thrown
carelessly into the grate because, no doubt, the nocturnal visitor
assumed as a matter of course that others like it would already have
been thrown into the grate. As a matter of fact, Mottram must have
thrown the match he lit the gas with out of the window: I have not
found it.
“From various indications, it is fairly clear that Mottram did not
foresee his end. Chief among these is the order which he gave that
he was to be woken early in the morning. This might of course be
bluff; but if so it was a very heartless kind of bluff, for it involved the
disturbing of the whole household with the tragic news in the small
hours, instead of leaving it to transpire after breakfast. And this leads
us on to another point, which Bredon appears to have overlooked: A
man who wants to be woken up early in the morning does not take a
sleeping draught overnight. It follows that Mottram did not really take
the sleeping draught. And that means that the glass containing it was
deliberately put by his bed to act as a blind. The medical evidence is
not positive as to whether he actually took the stuff or not. My
conjecture is, then, that the man who came in during the night—
twice during the night—put a glass with the remains of a sleeping
draught by the bed in order to create the impression that Mottram
had committed suicide.
“When I struck upon this idea, it threw a flood of light on various
other details of the case. We have to deal with a murderer who is
anxious to create the impression that the victim has died by his own
hand. It was for this reason that he left a half-finished letter of
Mottram’s on the table—a letter which Mottram had actually written
downstairs; this would look like the regular suicide’s dodge of trying
to cover up his tracks by leaving a half-finished document about. It
would make a mind like Bredon’s suspect suicide at once. The same
may be said of the ridiculous care with which the dead man was
supposed to have wound up an eight-day watch before retiring; it
was a piece of bluff which in itself would deceive nobody; but here it
was double bluff, and I expect it has deceived Bredon. He will see
everywhere the marks of a suicide covering up his tracks, which is
exactly what the murderer meant him to see.
“The thing begins to take shape in my mind, then, as follows:
When he feels confident that his victim is asleep the murderer tiptoes
into the room, puts down the glass by the bedside and the letter on
the table; winds up the watch (a very silent one); then goes over to
the gas, wipes off with a rag the mark of Mottram’s hand turning it
off, and then, with the same rag, gently turns it on once more. The
window is already shut. He tiptoes through the doorway, and waits
for an hour or two till the gas has done its deadly work. Then, for
some reason, he returns; for what reason, I cannot at present
determine. Once he had taken all these precautions, it must have
looked to him as if a verdict of suicide was a foregone conclusion.
But it is a trick of the murderer—due, some think, to the workings of
a guilty conscience—to revisit the scene of his crime and spoil the
whole effect of it. It is this reason, of course, that I must find out
before I am certain of my case; leaving aside all further questions as
to the murderer’s identity and his motives.
“In fact, there are two problems: a problem of why and a problem
of how. Why did the murderer turn the gas off? And how did he leave
the door locked behind him? I suspect that the answer to the first
question is, as I have said, merely psychological; it was some
momentary instinct of bravado, or remorse, or sheer lunacy. The
answer to the second question must be something more
complicated. In the abstract it is, I suppose, possible to turn a key in
a lock from the wrong side by using a piece of wire or some
instrument. But it is almost inconceivable that a man could do this
without leaving scratches on the key; I have examined the key very
carefully and there are no scratches. Bredon, I can see, hopes to
arrive at some different conclusion about the evidence; somebody,
he thinks, is lying. But Brinkman, and Ferrers the doctor, and the
Boots, all rushed into the room at the same moment. Ferrers is an
honest man, and I am sure he is telling the truth when he says he
found the gas turned off; and he went to it at once, before either of
the others had time to interfere. It was the Boots who found the key
on the inside of the door, and the Boots will not do for the murderer;
a man with one hand cannot have done conjuring tricks with a lock.
Brinkman’s own evidence is perfectly straightforward and consistent
with that of the others. He seems secretive, but that, I think, is the
fellow’s manner. I cannot at present see any motive which could
have made him want to do away with Mottram; the two seem to have
been on intimate terms, and there is no evidence of a quarrel.
“I am inclined to exonerate Pulteney of all knowledge, even of all
interest in the affair. He was a complete stranger to Mottram, so far
as I can discover. But suspicion may equally well fall on people
outside the house; for, although the doors of the inn were locked,
there is a practicable window on the ground floor which is not always
shut at night. Mottram was known in Chilthorpe, and had lived there
when he was young; there is the chance, then, of a local vendetta.
Pullford is only twenty miles or so distant; and in Pullford he may
easily have had enemies; the letter from ‘Brutus’ shews that. But,
since the salient fact about Mottram was his wealth, it seems
obvious that the first question to be settled is that of his testamentary
dispositions. I must telegraph to London to-morrow for full
information about these, and pursue my local inquiries in the mean
time. The only person on the spot who has any close tie of blood
with the deceased is the young fellow who owns the big shop here.
He is Mottram’s nephew; Mottram himself started it long ago, and
afterward made it over to his sister and her husband, both of whom
are now dead. Unfortunately for himself, the young man seems to
have been something of a radical, and he made an injudicious
speech at a time when Mottram was proposing to run himself as an
independent Parliamentary candidate for the constituency. There
was a quarrel; and Mrs. Davis thinks that the two never met again.
“These are only my first impressions. They may have to be
revised drastically as the case proceeds. But of one thing I am
confident—there has been foul play, and the effort to represent it as
a case of suicide is necessarily doomed to failure.”
Chapter VIII.
The Bishop at Home
Angela and her husband breakfasted late next morning. Leyland
came in as they were finishing, his manner full of excitement. “Mrs.
Davis,” he explained, “has been talking to me.”
“Don’t be led on too much by that,” said Angela. “It has happened
to others.”
“No, but I mean, Mrs. Davis has been saying something.”
“That is far more unusual,” assented Bredon. “Let’s hear all about
it. Angela”——
“Mrs. Bredon,” said Angela firmly, “has been associated with me
in many of my cases, and you may speak freely in her presence.
Cough it up, Mr. Leyland; nothing is going to separate me from this
piece of toast.”
“Oh, there’s nothing private about it particularly. But I thought
perhaps you might help. You see, Mrs. Davis says that Mottram was
expecting a visitor to turn up in the morning and go out fishing with
him.”
“A mysterious stranger?” suggested Angela. “Carrying a blunt
instrument?”
“Well, no, as a matter of fact it was the Bishop of Pullford. Do you
know Pullford at all?”
“Nothing is hidden from us, Mr. Leyland. They make drain-pipes
there, not perambulators, as some have supposed. The parish
church is a fine specimen of early Perp. It has been the seat of a
Roman Catholic Bishopric—oh! I suppose that’s the man?”
“So Mrs. Davis explained. A very genial man. Not one of your
standoffish ones. He was expected, it seems, by the first train, which
gets in about ten. Mottram left word that he was to be called early,
because he wanted to get at the fishing, and the Bishop, when he
arrived, was to be asked to join Mr. Mottram on the river; he would
be at the Long Pool. He’d been down here before, apparently, as
Mottram’s guest. Now, it’s obvious that we had better find out what
the Bishop has to say about all this. I’d go myself only for one thing: I
don’t quite like leaving Chilthorpe while my suspicions” (he dropped
his voice) “are so undefined; and for another thing, I’ve telegraphed
up to London for details about the will and I want to be certain that
the answer comes straight to my own hands. And the inquest is at
four this afternoon; I can’t risk being late for that. I was wondering
whether you and Mrs. Bredon would care to run over there? It would
take you less than an hour in the car, and if you went as representing
the Indescribable it would make it all rather less—well, official. Then I
thought perhaps at the end of the day we might swap information.”
“What about it, Angy?”
“I don’t think I shall come and see the Bishop. It doesn’t sound
quite proper, somehow. But I’ll drive you into Pullford, and sit at the
hotel for a bit and have luncheon there, and you can pick me up.”
“All right. I say, though,” he added piteously, “shall I have to go
and change my suit?”
“Not for a moment. You can explain to the Bishop that your
Sunday trousers are in pawn; if he’s really genial he’ll appreciate
that. Besides, that tweed suit makes you look like a good-natured
sort of ass; and that’s what you want, isn’t it? After all, if you do stay
to lunch, it will only be a bachelor party.”
“Very well, then, we’ll go. Just when I was beginning to like
Chilthorpe! Look here, Leyland, you aren’t expecting me to serve a
summons on the Bishop or clap the darbies on him, or anything?
Because if so you’d better go yourself.”
“Oh no, I don’t suspect the Bishop—not particularly, that is. I just
want to know what he can tell us about Mottram’s movements
immediately before his death, and what sort of man he was
generally. He may even know something about the will; but there’s
no need to drag that topic in, because my telegram ought to produce
full information about that. Thanks awfully. And we’ll pool the day’s
information, eh?”
“Done. I say, though, I think I’d better just wire to the Bishop, to
make sure that he’s at home, and ready to receive a stray spy. Then
we can start at elevenish.”
As Bredon returned from sending the telegram, he was waylaid,
to his surprise, by Mr. Pulteney, who was fooling about with rods and
reels and things in the front hall. “I wonder if I might make a
suggestion to you, Mr. Bredon,” he said. “I despise myself for the
weakness, but you know how it is. Every man thinks in his heart that
he would have made a good detective. I ought to know better at my
age, but the foul fiend keeps urging me to point something out to
you.”
Bredon smiled at the elaborate address. “I should like to hear it
awfully,” he said. “After all, detection is only a mixture of common
sense and special knowledge, so why shouldn’t we all put something
into the pot?”
“It is special knowledge that is in question here; otherwise I would
not have ventured to approach you. You see that rod? It is, as you
doubtless know, Mottram’s; it is the one which he intended to take
out with him on that fatal morning. You see those flies on it?”
They looked to Bredon very much like any other flies, and he said
so.
“Exactly. That is where special knowledge comes in. I don’t know
this river very well; but I do know that it would be ridiculous to try to
fish this river with those particular flies, especially at this time of the
year and after the weather we’ve been having. And I do know that a
man like Mottram, who had been fishing this river year after year,
couldn’t possibly have imagined that it was any use taking those flies
down to the Long Pool. I only mention it because it makes me rather
wonder whether Mottram really came down here to fish. Well, I must
be starting for the river. Still nursing the unconquerable hope. Good-
morning.” And, with one of his sudden gestures, the old gentleman
was gone.
A telegram came in admirably good time, assuring Bredon that
the Bishop would be delighted to see him. It was little after eleven
when the car took the road again; this time their way brought them
closer to the Busk and gave them a better view of its curious
formation. A narrow gorge opened beneath them, and they looked
down into deep pools overhung by smooth rocks that the water had
eaten away at their base. There was no actual waterfall, but the
stream always hurried downward, chuckling to itself under and
around the boulders which interrupted its course. “I think Pulteney
overestimates the danger of having his river dragged,” observed
Bredon. “You couldn’t drag that part of it; and, with all those shelves
of rock, a corpse might lie for days undiscovered, and no one the
wiser. I’m glad that it’s a death by gas, not by drowning.”
Their road now climbed onto the moors, and they began to draw
closer to a desolate kind of civilization. Little factory towns which had
sprung up when direct water-power was in demand, and continued a
precarious existence perched on those barren slopes now that
water-power had been displaced by steam, were the mile-stones of
their route. They were jolted on a pavement of villainous sets; the air
grew dim with a smoky haze and the moorland blackened with their
approach to the haunts of men. At last tram-lines met them,
announcing the outskirts of Pullford. “I’m getting the needle rather
about this interview,” confessed Bredon. “What does one do by way
of making one’s self popular with a Catholic Bishop?” he demanded
of Angela, who was convent-bred.
“Well, the right thing is to go down on one knee and kiss his ring.
I don’t think you’d make much of a show at it; we ought to have
practised it before we left Chilthorpe. But I don’t suppose he’ll eat
you.”
Bredon tried to rearrange his ideas about Bishops. He
remembered the ceremony of being confirmed at school; a long,
tiresome service, with an interminable address in which he and fifty
of his compeers were adjured to play for their side. He remembered
another Bishop, met in a friend’s rooms at Oxford, a hand laid on his
shoulder and an intolerably earnest voice asking whether he had
ever thought of taking holy orders. Was that the sort of thing? Or was
he rather to expect some silken-tongued courtier, in purple and fine
linen, pledging him in rich liqueurs (as in the advertisements) and
lying to him smoothly (as in the story-books)? Was he to be
embarrassed by pietism or to be hoodwinked by a practised
intriguer? Anyhow, he would know the worst before long now. They
drew up at the centre of the town before a vast, smoke-grimed hotel
which promised every sort of discomfort; and Bredon, after asking
his way to the Catholic Cathedral, and steadying himself with a
vermuth, went out to face the interview.
The Cathedral house proved to be a good specimen of that
curious municipal Gothic which is the curse of all institutions founded
in 1850. The kind of house which is characterized by the guide-
books as fine, by its inmates as beastly. The large room into which
Bredon was shewn was at least equally cheerless. It was half-
panelled in atrocious pitch-pine, and it had heavy, ecclesiastical-
looking chairs which discouraged all attempts at repose. There was
a gas-stove in the fireplace. Previous occupants of the See of
Pullford lined the walls, in the worst possible style of portraiture. A
plaster Madonna of the kind that is successively exiled from the
church to the sacristy and from the sacristy to the presbytery at once
caught and repelled the eye. In point of fact, the room is never used
except by the canons of Pullford when they vest for the chapter
mass and by the strange visitor who looks a little too important to be
left in a waiting-room downstairs.
A door opened at the end of the room, and through it came a tall
man dressed in black with a dash of red whose welcome made you
forget at once all the chill of the reception room. The face was strong
and determined, yet unaffectedly benevolent; the eyes met you
squarely, and did not languish at you; the manner was one of
embarrassed dignity, with no suggestion of personal greatness. You
did not feel that there was the slightest danger of being asked
whether you meant to take orders. You did not catch the smallest
hint of policy or of priestcraft. Bredon made a gesture as if to carry
out Angela’s uncomfortable prescription; but the hand that had
caught his was at once withdrawn in obvious deprecation. He had
come there as a spy, expecting to be spied upon; he found himself
mysteriously fitting into this strange household as an old friend.
“I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Brendan.” (The
Chilthorpe post-office is not at its best with proper names.) “Come
inside, please. So you’ve come to have a word about poor old
Mottram? He was an old friend of ours here, you know, and a close
neighbour. You had a splendid morning for motoring. Come in,
please.” And Bredon found himself in a much smaller room, the
obvious sanctum of a bachelor. There were pipes about, and pipe-

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