Gaddis and Dobbs exchanged glances. 'The Professor is more the scientist than I am,' Gaddis admitted. 'But I trust we shall alleviate your fears nonetheless. While we are here, at least.'
Stobbold sensed there was a tension between the men, something unspoken. He had an idea what it might be. 'I am also relieved,' he said slowly, 'that Lord Urton still extends his invitation to you both. He has been of late somewhat capricious.'
'Capricious?' Dobbs's anger was evident in the way the word exploded from him.
It was a similar exorcism, Stobbold reflected, to the way the heat of the atmosphere had been abruptly vented. 'You have found him so as well?' he hazarded.
'He tells us,' Gaddis explained more calmly, 'that there is regrettably no room for us at his house. That our engagement and invitation here is in effect terminated. Forthwith.'
'Fortunately,' Dobbs said, recovering something of his composure, 'Lady Urton seems more aware of her social duties and manners.'
Stobbold sighed. Here was yet more evidence that Lord Urton was not himself. He had yet to meet the mysterious Roger Nepath, but he fancied that here lay the root cause of the problems he had himself observed. 'And how did you find Lord Urton?' he asked. 'Was he civil? Lucid?'
Decidedly lucid, and extremely uncivil I should say,' Dobbs replied.
'Yet...' Gaddis started. They both waited for him to continue. After a while he said: 'I did not get the impression that he set out to anger or annoy us. There was little emotion in his arguments, merely statement of his position and his intentions.' He glanced at Dobbs again, as if for approval, before saying to Stobbold: 'I can usually gauge the emotions of a person, determine whether their outward demeanour and inward sentiments are in agreement.'
Dobbs snorted, but his reply was good natured. 'Load of mumbo*jumbo rubbish if you ask me. Completely unscientific. But,' he conceded, 'Mr Gaddis is usually proved correct in his diagnoses.'
A gong sounded in the distance, and Stobbold looked to the clock on the mantelpiece. Eight o'clock exactly. Some things at least remained constant.
'And how did you gauge Lord Urton's inner emotions?' he asked Gaddis as he showed them the way to the dining room. 'Did you get the impression that he is under some stress, perhaps?'
Gaddis paused in the doorway to the dining room as he answered. 'I got nothing,' he said simply. 'No impression at all. No emotions, no feelings.' He shook his head, as if still unable to credit it. 'Nothing,' he said again, his voice a hushed whisper.
Unusually, Stobbold noticed, a fire had been set in the dining room. Normally the grate was bare, a screen in front. But today, perhaps due to the reversion to the cold weather, a good fire was burning. Stobbold walked past it, and stood behind his accustomed chair. Dobbs and Gaddis also stood waiting on the opposite side of the table.
'Gentlemen, please do be seated.' To Stobbold, Lord Urton looked his old self. He was smiling, welcoming, as he strode into the room and took his own seat at the head of the table.
Lady Urton followed him in and sat beside her husband. Normally, she sat at the other end of the table, but Stobbold made no comment. He smiled at his friends.
'I have been making the acquaintance of Professor Dobbs and Mr Gaddis here,' he said. 'They were explaining to me how you had invited them to help investigate the somewhat uncommon phenomena of the last months.'
Urton sniffed. 'No doubt they also appraised you of the fact that we have no room for them here, and that I have suggested they remove themselves to the Midland Hotel if they wish to remain in the area,' he said. 'As for these uncommon phenomena as you refer to them, as a man of the Church I would assume you were able to distinguish between such things and the vagaries of the weather.'
'You put this fissure that has opened up across the moorland down to the weather, Robert?' Stobbold chided gently. He smiled to mitigate the comment. He was aware of a bell jangling deep within the house, but neither Lord Urton nor his wife seemed to remark it. Nor did they reply. Urton's eyes were wide as he stared at Stobbold. There was a light in them, something moving within or behind them. It took him a moment to realise that it must be the reflection of the fire. It was in Lady Urton's eyes too, he noticed. Dancing yellow and orange across the iris.
'You mentioned, Lady Urton, that you might possibly be able to find some space for us to lodge here after all,' Gaddis said politely into the awkward silence.
Her eyes snapped from Stobbold to look at Gaddis. 'No,' she said. Her voice was a level monotone, no hint of regret or sympathy. 'That has not been possible.'
Gaddis frowned at the reply. His mouth opened, then closed again without comment. He looked at Stobbold, who had the impression that the man was trying to tell him something. But before their unspoken communication could proceed further, the dining room door opened again.
Mrs Webber ushered two men into the room. One entered without comment, taking the seat beside Stobbold, smiling a mixture of greeting and apology as he took his place amongst them.
But it was the other man who drew their attention. He was a large man, which accounted in part for the sudden sense of presence as he entered. But it was due to more than that. His eyes were bright and alert. His suit was immaculate down to the ruby*red cufflink studs visible at his wrists. His hair was grey but it was impossible to discern his age. His face was craggy, as if hewn from rock. His lips were pale, almost as grey as his hair, and drawn back over perfectly white teeth in a smile which owed more to the skull beneath than to his apparent demeanour.
'Gentlemen,' he acknowledged as he took the place at the end of the table. 'Lady Urton.' He busied himself with his napkin and glanced impatiently at Mrs Webber as she wheeled a trolley beside his chair and served him first with the soup.
'Mr Nepath, I presume,' Stobbold said quietly.
'You presume, do you?' the man demanded without looking up from his bowl. He signalled with a dismissive flick of his hand that he had sufficient soup. 'I am Roger Nepath.' Now he did look up, and despite himself Stobbold felt the force of the man's stare press him back into his seat. 'And you, sir, are the Reverend Matthew Stobbold, doctor of divinity.' Nepath laid down his soup spoon and sat back in his chair, teeth glinting. 'I count it no surprise that you appear to have taken the opposite seat from our friends of the scientific world.' He glanced at the man sitting beside Stobbold. Whether this was intended to include him in the comment or to chide him for his choice of seat, Stobbold was unsure.
'You think there is no place for science in religion?' Stobbold asked.
'I take it that by religion you mean Christianity,' Nepath replied. 'I understand that science offers rationalisations for those matters for which Christianity will brook no explanation.'
'I would not presume to limit my reference to Christianity,' Stobbold said. He smiled to show that he meant no ill will toward the man. 'I have knowledge of many religions, and some understanding of science.'
'Have you really?' Nepath, for the first time in the conversation, seemed interested.
Stobbold leaned back to allow Mrs Webber to serve him. 'I assume that you believe the ideal of Mr Darwin conflict with the Christian view of the world. That your understanding of Christianity assumes that it is a narrow church with no room for the beliefs of others.'
'Enlighten me,' Nepath said. His voice was hardly more than a whisper, his eyes glinting with interest.
'Darwin's theories are not incompatible with the main tenets of my own beliefs,' Stobbold said. 'There are those of us who do not view the entirety of the Bible, complete with its own infernal contradictions, as literal truth. If Darwin offers a scientific basis for the world that we interpret through the teachings and ministry of Christ, then so be it.'
'And the garden of Eden?' Dobbs asked.
'A parable or a literal truth.' Stobbold shrugged. 'Just between us here, it matters not either way. You talk of science offering an explanation,' he said to Nepath. 'But it is meaning meaning that is important.' that is important.'
'Well put,' the man beside Stobbold murmured, drawing a glare from Nepath.
'Thank you. This soup is excellent, Mrs Webber,' Stobbold said as he tasted it. The woman half*smiled back as she withdrew from the room. 'And as for other religions,' Stobbold went on, beginning to enjoy himself, 'some are obviously primitive attempts to interpret the world that merit little attention. But those religions that believe in a single altruistic god may all stem from the same divine inspiration. Whatever we choose to call our Father, He remains the same. It is, if you will, the spirit rather than the letter of Christianity that is important.'
'You have studied other religions, you said,' Gaddis said to Stobbold.
'Some,' Stobbold confirmed. 'Though I am sure that my researches scarcely do them justice. There is a limit to what you can learn from books and libraries.'
'Indeed there is,' Nepath said. His lips were curled into a sneer. 'There is no substitute for first hand knowledge. For travel.'
'I take it that you have travelled?' Dobbs asked.
'Extensively.'
'And what is your opinion?' Stobbold's neighbour asked.
'My opinion?'
'You seem ready to disagree with others, I assume it is because you have formulated a contrary opinion from your own experience rather than out of...' he shrugged.
'Caprice?' Nepath suggested. He was staring at Stobbold as he spoke. 'I have travelled further than you can imagine.' His voice was low, husky. His gaze slipped away from Stobbold, and he appeared to be staring into the distance as he spoke. 'I have seen such things in my search for... enlightenment.'
'And have you found it?'
'I have found many things. Many pieces. Enough to know that the notion of a single all*encompassing God is the easiest of belief structures. How much more imaginative, how much more scientific, to associate an explanation, a god, with each phenomenon.'
'You do not, then, see an organising principle behind the universe?' Stobbold asked.
Nepath blinked, a sudden convulsive movement as if he had been jolted back to reality. 'There are more things in this world,' he said slowly, 'than our tiny minds can comprehend. Science may offer paltry explanations to nugatory questions. But the great debates of life and of the world continue despite it.' He leaned forward, elbows on the table. 'I have seen sights that you could never imagine let alone comprehend. I have made discoveries that science cannot and never will explain, sir.' He pointed at Dobbs and Gaddis, a gesture that was almost violent it was so sudden. 'You are the worst of them,' he said, his voice heavy with contempt. 'You seek to explain the inexplicable, to assign meaning to that which is beyond meaning, to trivialise with science that which transcends such human concepts and boundaries.'
'And on what do you base this argument?' Dobbs demanded. He glanced at Gaddis, then at Lord Urton who sat silent and impassive.
'On my own experiences.'
'On your extensive travel?' Stobbold asked.
'Indeed. My sister and I have been to places you have never dreamed of, seen sights that would leave a so*called rational man gibbering and insensible.'
'And does your sister share your enlightened point of view?'
'She does. As she would tell you, were she able to join us.' Nepath's expression seemed to soften at the mention of his sister. 'But sadly she is rather tired from her journey.' He shrugged and seemed to attempt a smile. 'I must show you my collection, gentlemen. Forgive me if I seem a little intransigent, but if you see something of the pieces I have collected on my travels perhaps you will begin to appreciate my enthusiasm for this dialogue.'
Mrs Webber was back now. She cleared away the soup bowls and began to serve the main course.
Nepath continued to speak. 'I must also apologise for the fact that my extensive collection is partly the reason why there is no room for you to lodge here. It takes up a lot of space, I fear.' He cut into his meat with vigour. 'But I understand that you will not be in the area long.'
'That depends,' Gaddis told, 'on what we discover.'
Nepath gave a short snort that evidently implied he thought there was nothing to to discover. discover.
'May I ask what your own opinion is on these strange events and phenomena?' Stobbold asked.
'I have no opinion.'
'I find that hard to believe,' the man beside Stobbold said lightly. Again, Nepath glared at him.
'For your information,' Nepath said, 'there is obviously nothing to investigate. A few earth tremors that have opened a crack in the ground. A late warm spell, some thunder storms. Locals who are more superstitious than objective and still smarting and sensitive from the loss of their livelihood. Nothing that your science cannot explain in a morning's work.'
Dobbs sighed. 'I think, from what I have heard so far from yourself and Lord Urton, that this may indeed be the case.'
Nepath smiled again. But neither Lord Urton nor his wife commented. They continued to eat slowly and mechanically.
It was the man beside Stobbold who responded. His voice was low, but forceful and hard*edged. 'You will forgive me, Mr Nepath,' he said, 'but it seems to me that you are seeking to explain the inexplicable.' He paused to take a mouthful of food. 'To assign meaning to that which is beyond meaning,' he went on, his voice slightly indistinct as he chewed. He seemed oblivious to Nepath's face darkening with anger as he stared back at the man. 'To trivialise with science that which transcends such human concepts and boundaries,' he finished.
There was silence for several moments. Stobbold was surprised, and also a little amused by the man's comments. He had assumed, since they entered together, that this man was a friend or at least a colleague of Nepath's. But there was no friendship in the stare that Nepath had fixed on him.
'And on what do you base this suggestion?' Nepath asked. His face was thunder*dark and his voice grated with anger.
'I too have travelled,' the man replied, meeting Nepath's gaze. 'Extensively, I expect.'
'You don't seem very certain,' Nepath said.
'Only scientists are certain. Those of us who have travelled, explored, discovered, who have been to places undreamed of, seen sights that science cannot and never will explain, we keep an open mind.'
They ate in silence for several minutes. Mrs Webber returned and cleared away again. Stobbold took several opportunities to examine the man beside him. He tried to glance at his neighbour without the man noticing, but was embarrassed to see that every time, the man met his gaze with piercing blue eyes that shone with intelligence. His face was young, yet Stobbold got the impression he was older and more experienced than he looked. The man's hair was long and dark, curling almost to his shoulders He wore clothes that almost made him seem overdressed. But beneath the long velvet jacket, the waistcoat was showing threads, and the cravat was torn where the single tarnished pin stuck through it. By contrast, the wing collars of his shirt emerged brilliant white from beneath the dark cravat.
The man caught Stobbold's eye again, and raised an eyebrow. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, towards Lord Urton at the head of the table. His head tilted slightly to one side, questioning. Stobbold followed the man's glance. Lord and Lady Urton's stoic reticence worried him as well, and he struggled to think of a way of reopening the conversation such that they might join in.
'You mentioned the loss of livelihood,' he said at last, addressing his comment to Nepath, but including Lord Urton with a quick glance. 'I understand that you are intending to reopen the mine. Indeed, that you have already begun some preliminary work.'
As Stobbold had hoped, Urton answered. But only after a look from Nepath that might have been a warning. Or permission. 'That is correct,' he said. His voice was flat, devoid of the enthusiasm and excitement that Stobbold remembered had accompanied their conversations about his plans for the mine in the past. Before the dreadful realisation that whatever Urton did, the mine was worked out, that there was no more tin to be found however deep or wide they dug.
'And you have some new stratagem for making a profit?'
'Mechanisation,' Nepath replied.
'I see.' Stobbold continued to speak to Lord Urton despite Nepath's intervention. 'And you believe that will help?'
'What has been the problem?' Gaddis asked politely.
'The problem is one of quantity,' Urton said. 'With the new mining machinery now available, we can remove the ore with less overall expense and thus we need less in order to turn a profit.'
'But surely the equipment, the machinery is itself costly,' Dobbs suggested. 'I saw a demonstration recently of a new powered drill and trepanner for use in mining coal. It was an enormous and enormously expensive piece of machinery.'
'Capital expenditure,' Nepath snapped. 'The variable costs will plummet.'
'You still need to raise the capital,' Gaddis pointed out.
The man beside Stobbold cleared his throat. 'There is another consideration,' he said. 'Since we are speaking of livelihood.'
'And what is that, Mr Nepath broke off. 'I did not catch your name, I'm afraid.'
'The only way that your variable costs will be lower than when the mine operated before is if you intend spending less on the running of the mine.'
'Obviously.'
'And, I would suspect, for a labour*intensive operation such as this, that cost would be mainly labour. Am I correct?'
Stobbold could see where the man was going with this argument. 'You intend to employ fewer people.'
The man nodded. 'Many fewer, if you are to more than offset the running costs of the new machinery.'
'You seem very well informed,' Nepath said, his eyes narrowing.
'And those who are employed,' the man went on, 'will be slaves to the machines. They won't be directly productive, hewing the ore from the rock themselves. They won't be taking pride in their achievements, literally weighing their success each day. They will become machines themselves, mechanised. The group becomes more important than the individual.' He sighed, as if deeply saddened by the thought. 'So it begins,' he murmured, so quietly that Stobbold alone heard him.
'And where on your extensive travels did you forge this particular opinion, sir?' Nepath demanded icily.
The man smiled back pleasantly. 'Oh, here and there. It is more of a synthesis of ideas than a single thought. And please,' he continued, 'call me Doctor.'
'Doctor?' Nepath said. 'Just "Doctor"?'
The Doctor seemed not to have heard. 'But tell me, where on your own travels did you find you formed most of your opinions and thoughts? Which location was the most inspirational? I am fascinated to discover what a fellow traveller has found.'
Nepath leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him as he considered his answer. 'Inspiration is to be found in all manner of places, all manner of experiences,' he said.
'Perhaps just an example then?'