And this visit to Mr.Goodge was my own idea, not prompted by the far-seeing Sheldon.

I felt myself advancing in the insidious arts of a private inquirer.
"I am employed in the prosecution of a business which has a _remote_ relation to the Haygarth family history," I said; "and if you can afford me any information on that subject I should be extremely obliged." I emphasised the adjective "remote," and felt myself, in my humble way, a Talleyrand.
"What kind of information, do you require ?" asked Mr.Goodge thoughtfully.
"Any information respecting Matthew Haygarth or his wife." Mr.Goodge became profoundly meditative after this.
"I am not given to act unadvisedly," he began--and I felt that I was in for a little professional discourse: "the creatures of impulse are the children of Satan, the babes of Lucifer, the infants of Beelzebub.

I take counsel in the silence of the night, and wait the whispers of wisdom in the waking hours of darkness.

You must allow me time to ponder this business in my heart and to be still." I told Mr.Goodge that I would willingly await his own time for affording me any information in his power to give.
"That is pleasant," said the pastor blandly: "the worldly are apt to rush blindly through life, as the roaring lion rushes through the forest.

I am not one of those rushing worldlings.