He never ate cake and took the view that scones and sandwiches only spoiled his dinner. He thought it right to put in an appearance at four o’clock when there were guests but usually only stayed long enough to drink his two cups of Earl Grey with lemon and welcome any new arrivals. This Saturday he had left the greetings to Father Martin, but at ten minutes past four thought it would be courteous to put in an appearance. But he was only halfway down the stairs when he was met by the Archdeacon rushing up towards him. “Morell, I need to speak to you. In your office, please.” And now what? thought Father Sebastian wearily as he mounted the stairs behind the Archdeacon. Crampton took the stairs two at a time and, once outside the office, seemed about to crash unceremoniously through the door. Father Sebastian, entering more quietly, invited him to take one of the chairs in front of the fire but was ignored, and the two men stood facing each other so closely that Father Sebastian could smell the taint of sourness on the other’s breath.
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