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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of When It Was Dark, by Guy Thorne
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license
+
+
+Title: When It Was Dark
+       The Story of a Great Conspiracy
+
+Author: Guy Thorne
+
+Release Date: May 10, 2012 [EBook #39666]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN IT WAS DARK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Mark C. Orton, Margo Romberg and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+book was produced from scanned images of public domain
+material from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+     ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+     +                                      +
+     +           _By GUY THORNE_            +
+     +                                      +
+     +           When It Was Dark           +
+     +   The Story of a Great Conspiracy    +
+     +  12º. (By mail, $1.35) _Net_, $1.20  +
+     +                                      +
+     +             A Lost Cause             +
+     +              12º $1.50               +
+     +                                      +
+     +          G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS         +
+     +         _New York and London_        +
+     +                                      +
+     ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+
+
+
+
+    WHEN IT WAS DARK
+
+
+
+
+    When It Was Dark
+
+    The Story of a Great Conspiracy
+
+    By
+
+    Guy Thorne
+
+    G. P. Putnam's Sons
+    New York and London
+    The Knickerbocker Press
+    1906
+
+
+
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1904
+    BY
+    G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+
+    Published, January, 1904
+    Reprinted, May, 1904; September, 1904
+    December, 1904; September, 1905
+    October, 1905; November, 1905; January, 1906
+
+    The Knickerbocker Press, New York
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+BOOK I.
+
+CHAPTER                                              PAGE
+
+   I. An Incident by Way of Prologue                   1
+
+  II. In the Vicar's Study                             6
+
+ III. "I Think he is a Good Man"                      23
+
+  IV. The Smoke Cloud at Dawn                         33
+
+   V. A Lost Soul                                     45
+
+  VI. The Whisper                                     56
+
+ VII. Last Words at Walktown                          69
+
+VIII. A Dinner at the Pannier d'Or                    77
+
+  IX. Inauguration                                    95
+
+   X. The Resurrection Sermon                        107
+
+  XI. "Neither do I Condemn Thee"                    116
+
+ XII. Powers of Good and Evil                        126
+
+
+BOOK II.
+
+   I. While London was Sleeping                      141
+
+  II. Avoiding the Flower Pattern on the Carpet      165
+
+ III. "I, Joseph"                                    178
+
+  IV. The Domestic Chaplain's Testimony              184
+
+   V. Deus, Deus Meus, Quare Dereliquisti!           194
+
+  VI. Harness the Horses; and Get up, ye Horsemen,
+      and Stand forth with your Helmets, Furbish
+      the Spears, and Put on the Brigandines--Jer.
+      xlvi: 4                                        205
+
+ VII. The Hour of Chaos                              212
+
+VIII. The First Links                                225
+
+  IX. Particular Instances, Contrasting the Old
+      Lady and the Special Correspondent             233
+
+   X. The Triumph of Sir Robert Llwellyn             245
+
+  XI. Progress                                       256
+
+ XII. A Soul alone on the Sea-Shore                  262
+
+
+BOOK III.
+
+   I. What it Meant to the World's Women             271
+
+  II. Cyril Hands Redux                              283
+
+ III. All ye Inhabitants of the World, and
+      Dwellers on the Earth, See ye, when He
+      Lifteth up an Ensign on the Mountains--Is.
+      xviii: 3                                       289
+
+  IV. A Luncheon Party                               302
+
+   V. By the Tower of Hippicus                       322
+
+  VI. Under the Eastern Stars: towards Gerizim       342
+
+ VII. The Last Meeting                               356
+
+VIII. Death Coming with One Grace                    364
+
+  IX. At Walktown Again                              376
+
+      Epilogue                                       385
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+"The mystery of iniquity doth already work."
+
+
+
+
+WHEN IT WAS DARK
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+AN INCIDENT BY WAY OF PROLOGUE
+
+
+Mr. Hinchcliffe, the sexton, looked up as Mr. Philemon, the clerk,
+unlocked the great gates of open ironwork which led into the street.
+Hinchcliffe was cutting the lettering on a tombstone, supported by heavy
+wooden trestles, under a little shed close to the vestry door of the
+church.
+
+The clerk, a small, rotund man, clerical in aspect, and wearing a round
+felt hat, pulled out a large, old-fashioned watch. "Time for the bell,
+William," he said.
+
+The parish church was a large building in sham perpendicular. It stood
+in a very central position on the Manchester main road, rising amid a
+bare triangle of flat gravestones, and separated from the street
+pavement only by high iron railings.
+
+It was about half-past four on a dull autumn afternoon. The trams swung
+ringing down the black, muddy road, and the long procession of great
+two-wheeled carts, painted vermilion, carried coal from the collieries
+six miles away to the great mills and factories of Salford.
+
+The two men went into the church, and soon the tolling of a deep-voiced
+bell, high up in the pall of smoke which lay over the houses, beat out
+in regular and melancholy sound.
+
+Inside the building the noise of the traffic sank into a long, unceasing
+note like the _bourdon_ note of a distant organ.
+
+Hinchcliffe tolled the bell in the dim, ugly vestibule with his foot in
+a loop in the rope, sitting on the chest which held the dozen loaves
+which were given away every Sunday to the old women in the free seats.
+
+The clerk opened the green baize swing-doors and strode up the aisle
+towards the vestry, waking mournful echoes as the nails in his boots
+struck the tiled floor.
+
+Saint Thomas's Church, the mother church of Walktown, was probably the
+ugliest church in Lancashire. The heavy galleries, the drab walls, the
+terrible gloom of the vast structure, all spoke eloquently of a chilly,
+dour Christianity, a grudging and suspicious Sunday religion which
+animated its congregation.
+
+In the long rows of cushioned seats, each labelled with the name of the
+person who rented it, Sunday by Sunday the moderately prosperous and
+wholly vulgar Lancashire people sat for two hours. During the prayers
+they leaned forward in easy and comfortable concession to convention.
+Few ever knelt. During the hymn times they stood up in their places
+listening carefully to a fine choir of men and women--a choir which,
+despite its vocal excellence, was only allowed to perform the most
+stodgy and commonplace evangelical music.
+
+When the incumbent preached he was heard with the jealous watchfulness
+which often assails an educated man. The renters of the pews desired a
+Low Church aspect of doctrine and were intelligent to detect any
+divergence from it.
+
+The colour of the building was sombre. The brick-red and styx-like grey
+of the flooring, the lifeless chocolate front of the galleries, the
+large and ugly windows filled with glass which was the colour of a
+ginger-beer bottle, had all a definite quality of cheerless vulgarity.
+
+Philemon came out of the vestry door with a lighted taper. He lit two or
+three jets of the corona over the reading-desk. Then he sat down in a
+front pew close to the chancel steps and waited.
+
+The bell outside stopped suddenly, and a tall young man in a black
+Inverness cape walked hurriedly up the side aisle under the gallery
+towards the vestry.
+
+In less than a minute he came out again in surplice, stole, and
+hood,--the stole and hood were always worn at Walktown,--went to the
+reading-desk, and began to say Evensong in a level, resonant voice.
+
+At the end of each psalm Mr. Philemon recited the doxology with
+thunderous assertion and capped each prayer with an echoing "Amen."
+
+The curate, Basil Gortre, was a young fellow with a strong, impressive
+face. His eyes had the clearness of youth and looked out steadily on the
+world under his black hair. His face was of that type men call a
+"thoroughly honest" face, but, unlike the generality of such faces, it
+was neither stubborn nor stupid. The clean-shaven jaw was full of power,
+the mouth was refined and artistic, without being either sensual or
+weak.
+
+During the Creed he turned towards the east, and the clerk's
+uncompromising voice became louder and more acid as he noticed the
+action; and when the clergyman, almost imperceptibly, made the sign of
+the Cross at the words "The resurrection of the body," the old man gave
+a loud snort of disapprobation.
+
+In deference to the congregation on Sundays, and at the wish of his
+vicar, Gortre omitted these simple signs of reverence. But alone, at
+Matins or Evensong, he followed his usual habit.
+
+During the last low prayers, as dusk crept into the great church, and
+the clank and bells of the trams outside seemed to be more remote, a
+part, indeed, of that visible but not symbolic ugliness which the gloom
+was hiding, a note of fervour crept into the young man's praying which
+had only been latent there before.
+
+He was reading the third collect when the few gas jets above his head
+began to whistle, burnt blue for a few seconds, and then faded out with
+three or four faint pops.
+
+Some air had got into the pipes. Old Mr. Philemon rose noisily from his
+knees, and shuffled off to the vestry coughing and spluttering. Outside,
+with startling suddenness, a piano organ burst into a gay, strident
+melody. After a few bars the music stopped with a jerk. A police
+constable had spoken to the organ-grinder and moved him on.
+
+Gortre's voice went on in a deep, fervent monotone, unmoved by the
+darkness or the dissonance--
+
+     "_Lighten our darkness, we beseech Thee, O Lord; and by Thy great
+     mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night; for the
+     love of Thy only Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ._"
+
+The faithful, quiet voice, enduring through the dark, was a
+foreshadowing of the great cloud which was breaking over the world, big
+with disaster, imminent with gloom. It foreshadowed the divinely aided
+continuance of Truth through such a terror as men had never known
+before.
+
+It meant many things, that firm and beautiful voice--hope in the darkest
+hour for thousands of dying souls, a noble woman's happiness in time of
+dire stress and evil temptations and a death worse than the death Judas
+died--for Mr. Schuabe the millionaire and Robert Llwellyn the scholar,
+taking tea together in the Athenæum Club three hundred miles away in
+London.
+
+     "--_by Thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of
+     this night_."
+
+Mr. Philemon returned with a taper, an old and wrinkled acolyte, in time
+with his loud and sonorous AMEN.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+IN THE VICAR'S STUDY
+
+
+The vicarage of Walktown was a new and commodious house with tall
+chimneys, pointed windows, and a roof of red tiles.
+
+It was more than a mile from the church, in the residential quarter of
+the town. Here were no shops and little traffic. The solid houses of red
+brick stood in their own rather dingy grounds, where, though the grass
+was never really green, and spring came in a veil of smoky vapour when
+the wind blew from the town, there was yet a rural suggestion.
+
+The trees rose from neatly kept lawns, the gravel sweeps of the drives
+were carefully tended, and there was distant colour in the elaborate
+conservatories and palm-houses which were to be seen everywhere.
+
+Mr. Pryde, the great Manchester solicitor, had his beautiful modern
+house here. Sir John Neele, the wealthy manufacturer of disinfectants,
+lived close by, and a large proportion of the well-to-do Manchester
+merchants were settled round about.
+
+Not all of them were parishioners of Mr. Byars, the vicar of Walktown.
+Many attended the more fashionable church of Pendleborough, a mile away
+in what answered to the "country"; others were leaders in the Dissenting
+and especially the Unitarian worlds.
+
+Walktown was a stronghold of the Unitarians. The wealthy Jews of two
+generations back, men who made vast fortunes in the black valley of the
+Irwell, had chosen Walktown to dwell in. Their grandsons had found it
+more politic to abjure their ancient faith. A few had become
+Christians,--at least in name, inasmuch as they rented pews at St.
+Thomas's,--but others had compromised by embracing a faith, or rather a
+dogma, which is simply Judaism without its ritual and ceremonial
+obligations. The Baumanns, the Hildersheimers, the Steinhardts,
+flourished in Walktown.
+
+It was people of this class who supported the magnificent concerts in
+the Free Trade Hall at Manchester, who bought the pictures and read the
+books. They had brought an alien culture to the neighbourhood. The vicar
+had two strong elements to contend with,--for his parochial life was all
+contention,--on the one hand the Lancashire natives, on the other the
+wealthy Jewish families.
+
+The first were hard, uncultured people, hating everything that had not
+its origin and end in commerce. They disliked Mr. Byars because he was a
+gentleman, because he was educated, and because--so they considered--the
+renting of the pews in his church gave them the right to imagine that he
+was in some sense a paid servant of theirs.
+
+The second class of parishioners were less Philistine, certainly, but
+even more hopeless from the parish priest's point of view. In their
+luxurious houses they lived an easy, selfish, and sensual life, beyond
+his reach, surrounded by a wall of indifferentism, and contemptuous of
+all that was not tangible and material. At times the rector and the
+curate confessed to each other that these people seemed more utterly
+lost than any others with whom the work of the Church brought them in
+contact.
+
+Mr. Byars was a widower with one son, now at Oxford, and one daughter,
+Helena, who was engaged to Basil Gortre, the curate.
+
+About six o'clock the vicar sat in his study with a pile of letters
+before him. The room was a comfortable, bookish place, panelled in pitch
+pine where the walls were not covered with shelves of theological and
+philosophical works.
+
+The arm-chairs were not new, but they invited repose; the large
+engraving over the pipe-littered mantel was a fine autotype of Giacomo's
+_St. Emilia_. The room was brightly lit with electric light.
+
+Mr. Byars was a man of medium height, bald, his fine, domed forehead
+adding to his apparent age, and wore a pointed grey beard and moustache.
+He was an epitome of the room around him.
+
+The volumes on his shelves were no ancient and musty tomes, but
+represented the latest and newest additions to theological thought.
+
+Lathom and Edersheim stood together with Renan's _Vie de Jésus_ and
+Clermont-Ganneau's _Recueil d'Arch. Orient_, and Westcott guarded them
+all.
+
+The ivory crucifix which stood on the writing-table completed the
+impression of the man.
+
+Ambrose Byars at forty-five was thoroughly acquainted with modern
+thought and literature. His scholarship was tempered with the wisdom of
+an active and clear-headed man of the world. His life and habits were
+simple but unbigoted, and his broad-mindedness never obscured his
+unalterable convictions. He lived, as he conceived it his duty to live
+in his time and place, in thorough human and intellectual correspondence
+with his environment, but one thought, one absolute certainty informed
+his life.
+
+As year by year his knowledge grew greater, and the scientific criticism
+of the Scriptures undermined the faith of weaker and less richly
+endowed minds, he only found in each discovery a more vivid proof of the
+truth of the Incarnation and the Resurrection.
+
+It was his habit in discussions to reconcile all apparently conflicting
+antichristian statements and weave them into the fabric of his
+convictions. He held that, even scientifically, historically, and
+materially, the evidence for the Resurrection was too strong to be ever
+overthrown. And beyond these intellectual evidences he knew that Christ
+must have risen from the dead, because he himself had found Christ and
+was found in Him.
+
+His attitude was a careful one with all its conciseness. An anecdote
+illustrates this.
+
+One day, when walking home from a meeting of the School Board, of which
+he was a member, he had met a parishioner named Baxter, the proprietor
+of a small engineering work in the district. The man, who never came to
+church, on what he called "principle," but spent his Sundays in bed with
+a sporting paper, was one of those half-educated people who condemn
+Christianity by ridiculing the Old Testament stories.
+
+They walked together, Baxter quoting the _Origin of Species_, which he
+knew from a cheap epitomised handbook.
+
+"Do you really think, Mr. Byars," he had said, "do you really believe,
+after Darwin's discovery, that we were made by a sort of conjuring trick
+by a Supreme Power? Seven days of cooking, so to speak, and then a
+world! Why, it's childish to expect thinking people to believe it. We
+are simply evolved by scientific evolution out of the primæval
+protoplasm."
+
+"Very possibly," said the vicar; "and who made the protoplasm, Mr.
+Baxter?"
+
+The man was silent for a minute. "Then, Mr. Byars," he said at length,
+"you do not believe the Old Testament--the Adam and Eve part, for
+instance. You do not believe the Book on which your creed is founded."
+
+"There are such things as allegories," he had answered. "The untutored
+brain must be taught the truth in such a way as it can receive it."
+
+The vicar lit his pipe and began to open his letters with a slight sigh.
+Of all men, he sometimes felt, he was the least possible one for
+Walktown. For twelve years he had worked there, and he seemed to make
+little headway. He longed for an educated congregation. Here methods too
+vulgar for his temperament seemed to be the only ones.
+
+The letters were all from applicants for the curacy which Gortre's
+impending departure would shortly leave vacant.
+
+"It will be a terrible wrench to lose Basil," he said to himself; "but
+it must be. He will have his chance and be far happier in London, in
+more congenial environment. He would never be a great success in
+Walktown. He has tried nobly, but the people won't understand him. They
+would never like him; he's too much of a gentleman. How they all hate
+breeding in Walktown! There is nothing for it, I can see. I must get an
+inferior man this time. An inferior man will go down with them better
+here. I only hope he will be a really good fellow. If he isn't, it will
+be Jerrold over again--vulgar cabals against me, and all the women in
+the place quarrelling and taking sides."
+
+He read letter after letter, and saw, with a humorous shrug of disgust,
+that he would have little difficulty in engaging the "inferior" man of
+his thoughts.
+
+The best men would not come to the North. Men of family with decent
+degrees, Oxford men, Cambridge men, accustomed to decent society and
+intellectual friends, knew far too much to accept a title in the
+Manchester district.
+
+The applications were numerous enough, but obviously from second-rate
+men, or at any rate from men who appeared to be so at first glance.
+
+A Durham graduate, 40, with five children, begged earnestly for the £120
+a year which was all Mr. Byars could offer. A few young men from
+theological colleges wanting titles, a Dublin B.A., announcing himself
+as "thoroughly Protestant in views"--they were a weary lot. A
+non-collegiate student from Oxford with a second class in Theology, a
+Manchester Grammar-School boy, whose father lived at Higher Broughton,
+seemed to promise the best. He would be able to get on with the people,
+probably. "I suppose I must have him, accent and all," the vicar said
+with a sigh, "though I suppose it's prejudice to dislike the lessons
+read with the Lancashire broad 'a' and short 'o.' St. Paul probably
+spoke with a terrible local twang! and yet, I don't know, he was too
+great to be vulgar; one doesn't like to think that----"
+
+Mr. Byars was certainly a difficult person for his congregation to
+appreciate.
+
+He picked up the letter and was re-reading it when the door opened and
+his daughter came in.
+
+Helena Byars was a tall girl, largely made and yet slender. Her hair was
+luxuriant and of a traditional "heroine" gold. She was dressed with a
+certain richness, though soberly enough, a style which, with its slight
+hint of austerity, accentuated a quiet and delicate charm. So one felt
+on meeting her for the first time. Sweet-faced she was and with an
+underlying seriousness even in her times of laughter. Her mouth was
+rather large, her nose straight and beautifully chiselled. The eyes were
+placid, intelligent, but without keenness. There was an almost matronly
+dignity about her quiet and yet decided manner.
+
+The vicar looked up at her with a smile, thinking how like her mother
+the girl was--that grave and gracious lady who looked out of the picture
+by the door, St. Cecilia in form and face. "Eh, but Helena she favours
+her mother," Hinchcliffe, the sexton, had said with the frank
+familiarity of the Lancashire workman soon after Mrs. Byars's funeral
+four years ago.
+
+"I've brought _Punch_, father," she said, "it's just come. Leave your
+work now and enjoy yourself for half an hour before dinner. Basil will
+be here by the time you're finished."
+
+She stirred the fire into a bright glow, and, singing softly to herself,
+left the study and went into the dining-room to see that the table
+looked inviting for the coming meal.
+
+About seven o'clock Gortre arrived, and soon afterwards the three sat
+down to dine. It was a simple meal, some fish, cold beef, and a pudding,
+with a bottle of beer for the curate and a glass of claret for the
+vicar. The housemaid did not wait upon them, for they found the meal
+more intimate and enjoyable without her.
+
+"I've got some news," said Gortre. "The great question of domicile is
+settled. You know there is no room in the clergy-house at St. Mary's.
+Moreover, Father Ripon thought it well that I should live outside. He
+wanted one of the assistant clergy, at least, to be in constant touch
+with lay influences, he said when I saw him."
+
+"What have you arranged, dear?" said Helena.
+
+"Something very satisfactory, I think," he answered. "My first thought
+was to take ordinary rooms in Bloomsbury. It would be near St. Mary's
+and the schools. Then I thought of chambers in one of the Inns of Court.
+At any rate I wrote to Harold Spence to ask his advice. He was at
+Merton with me, you know, lived on the same staircase in 'Stubbins,' and
+is just one of the best fellows in the world. We haven't corresponded
+much during the last three years, but I knew a letter to the New Oxford
+and Cambridge would always find him. So I wrote up. He's been University
+Extension lecturing for a time, you know, and writing too. Now he tells
+me that he is writing leaders for the _Daily Wire_ and doing very well.
+I'll read you what he says."
+
+He took a letter from his pocket, glanced down it for the paragraph he
+wanted, and began to read:
+
+      ... "--and I am delighted to hear that you have at last made up
+     your mind to leave the North country and have accepted this London
+     curacy. I asked Marsh, our ecclesiastical editor, about St. Mary's
+     last night. He tells me that it is a centre of very important
+     Church work, and has some political and social influence. Of all
+     the 'ritualistic' parishes--I use the word as a convenient
+     label--it is thought to be the sanest. Here you will have a real
+     chance. I know something of the North, and came in contact with all
+     sorts and conditions of people when I was lecturing on the French
+     Revolution round Liverpool and Manchester for the Extension. They
+     are not the people for you to succeed with, either socially or from
+     a clergyman's point of view--at least, that's my opinion, old man.
+     You ask me about rooms. I have a proposal to make to you in this
+     regard. I am now living in Lincoln's Inn with a man named
+     Hands--Cyril Hands. You may know his name. He is a great
+     archæologist, was a young Cambridge professor. For three years now
+     he has been working for The Palestine Exploring Society. He is in
+     charge of all the excavations now proceeding near Jerusalem, and
+     constantly making new and valuable Biblical discoveries."
+
+The vicar broke in upon the reading. "Hands!" he said; "a most
+distinguished man! His work is daily adding to our knowledge in a
+marvellous way. He has just recently discovered some important
+inscriptions at El-Edhamîyeh--Jeremiah's grotto, you know, the place
+which is thought may be Golgotha, you know. But go on, I'm sorry to
+interrupt."
+
+Gortre continued:
+
+     "Hands is only at home for three months in the year, when he comes
+     to the annual meeting of the Society and recuperates at the
+     seaside. His rooms, however, are always kept for him. The chambers
+     we have are old-fashioned but very large. There are three big
+     bedrooms, a huge sitting-room, two smaller rooms and a sort of
+     kitchen, all inside the one oak. I have a bedroom and one small
+     room where I write. Hands has only one bedroom and uses the big
+     general room. Now if you care to come and take up your abode in the
+     Inn with us, I can only say you will be heartily welcome. Your
+     share of the expenses would be less than if you lived alone in
+     rooms as you propose, and you would be far more comfortable. You
+     could have your study to work in. Our laundress is nearly always
+     about, and there is altogether a pleasant suggestion of Oxford and
+     the old days in the life we lead. Of course I need hardly tell you
+     that we are very quiet and quite untroubled by any of the rowdy
+     people, all of whom live away from our court altogether. You would
+     be only five minutes' walk from St. Mary's. What do you think of
+     the idea? Let me know and I will give you all further details. I
+     hope you will decide on joining us. I should find it most
+     pleasant.--Ever yours,
+
+          "HAROLD MASTERMAN SPENCE."
+
+"An extremely genial letter," said the vicar. "I suppose you'll accept,
+Basil? It will be pleasant to be with friends like that."
+
+"Isn't it just a little, well, bachelor?" said Helena rather nervously.
+
+Gortre smiled at the question.
+
+"No, dear," he said. "I don't think you need be afraid. I know the sort
+of visions you have. The sort of thing in _Pendennis_, isn't it? The boy
+sent out for beer to the nearest public-house, and breakfast at twelve
+in the morning, cooked in the sitting-room. You don't know Harold. He is
+quite _bourgeois_ in his habits, despite his intellect, hates a muddle,
+always dresses extremely well, and goes to church like any married man.
+He was a great friend of the Pusey House people at Oxford."
+
+"The days when you couldn't be a genius without being dirty are gone,"
+said the vicar. "I am glad of it. I was staying at St. Ives last summer,
+where there is quite an artistic settlement. All the painters carried
+golf-clubs and looked like professional athletes. They drink Bohea in
+Bohemia now."
+
+Gortre talked a little about his plans for the future. He had a
+sympathetic audience. During the four years of his curacy at Walktown he
+had become very dear to Mr. Byars. He had arrived in the North from
+Oxford, after a year at Litchfield Theological College, just about the
+time that Mrs. Byars had died. His help and sympathy at such a time had
+begun a friendship with his vicar that had been firmly cemented as the
+time went on, and had finally culminated in his engagement to Helena. He
+had been the vicar's sole intellectual companion all this time, and his
+loss would be irreparable. But both men felt that his departure was
+inevitable. The younger man's powers were stifled and confined in the
+atmosphere of the place. He had private means of his own, and belonged
+to an old West-country family, and, try as he would he failed to
+identify himself socially with the Walktown people. His engagement to
+Helena Byars had increased his unpopularity. He would be far happier at
+St. Mary's in London, at the famous High Church, where he would find all
+those exterior accompaniments of religion to which he had been
+accustomed, and which, though he did not exalt the shadow into the
+substance, always made him happier when he was surrounded by them.
+
+He was to wait a year and then he would be married. There were no money
+obstacles in the way and no reason for further delay. Only the vicar
+looked forward with a sort of horror to his future loneliness, and tried
+to put the thought from him whenever it came.
+
+After dinner Helena left the two men to smoke alone in the study. There
+was a concert in the Town Hall to which she was going with Mrs. Pryde,
+the solicitor's wife, a neighbour. Her friend's carriage called for her
+about eight, and Gortre settled down for a long talk with the vicar on
+parochial affairs.
+
+They sat on each side of the dancing fire, with coffee on a table
+between them, quietly enjoying the after-dinner pipe, the best and
+finest of the five cardinal pipes of the day. It was a comfortable
+scene. The room was lighted only by a single electric reading-lamp with
+a green shade, and the firelight flickered and played over the dull gold
+and crimson of the books on the shelves, and threw red lights on the
+shining ivory of the sculptured Christ.
+
+"I daresay this North-country man will do all right," said the vicar.
+"He will be more popular than you, Basil."
+
+The young man sighed. "God knows I have tried hard enough to win their
+confidence," he said sadly, "but it was not to be. I _can't_ get in
+touch with them, vicar. They dislike my manners, my way of
+speaking--everything about me. Even the landlady of my rooms distrusts
+me because I decline to take tea with my evening chop, and charges me
+three shillings a week extra because I have what she calls 'late
+dinner'!"
+
+The vicar laughed. "At any rate," he said, "you have got hold of Leef,
+your landlord; he comes to church regularly now."
+
+"Oh, Leef illustrates more than any one else how impossible it is, for
+me, at any rate, to do much good. Last week he said to me, 'It's a fine
+thing, religion, when you've got it at last, Mr. Gortre. When I look
+back at my unregenerate years I wonder at myself. Religion tells me to
+give up certain things. It only 'armonises with the experience of any
+sensible man of my age. I don't want to drink too much, for instance. My
+health is capital, and I'm not such a fool as to spoil it. To think that
+all those years I never knew that religion was as easy as winking, and
+with a certainty of everlasting glory afterwards. I'll always back you
+up, Mr. Gortre, in saying that religion's the finest thing out.'"
+
+"Well, dear boy, you will be in another environment altogether soon.
+It's no use being discouraged. _Tot homines, quot sententiæ_! We can't
+alter these things. The Essenes used to speak disrespectfully enough of
+'Ye men of Galilee,' no doubt. Sometimes I think I would rather have
+these stubborn people than those of the South, men as easy and _commode_
+as an old glove, and worth about as much. Have you seen the _Guardian_
+to-day?"
+
+"No, I haven't. I've been at the schools all the morning, visiting in
+Timperley Street till Evensong, home for a wash, and then here."
+
+"I see Schuabe is going to address a great meeting in the Free Trade
+Hall on the Education Bill."
+
+"Then he is at Mount Prospect?"
+
+"He arrived from London yesterday."
+
+The two men looked at each other in silence. Mr. Byars seemed ill at
+ease. His foot tapped the brass rail of the fender. Then, a sure sign of
+disturbance with him, he put down his pipe, which was nearly smoked
+away, and took a cigarette from a box on the table and smoked in short,
+quick puffs.
+
+Gortre's face became dark and gloomy. The light died out of it, the
+kindliness of expression, which was habitual, left his eyes.
+
+"We have never really told each other what we think of Schuabe and how
+we think of him, vicar," he said. "Let us have it out here and now while
+we are thinking of him and while we have the opportunity."
+
+"In a question of this sort," said Mr. Byars, "confidences are extremely
+dangerous as a rule, but between you and me it is different. It will
+clear our brains mutually. God forbid that you and I, in our profession
+as Christ's priests and our socio-political position as clerks in Holy
+Orders, should bear rancour against any one. But we are but human.
+Possibly our mutual confidence may help us both."
+
+There was a curious eagerness in his manner which was reflected by that
+of the other. Both were conscious of feelings ill in accord with their
+usual open and kindly attitude towards the world. Each was anxious to
+know if the other coincided with himself.
+
+Men are weak, and there is comfort in community.
+
+"From envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness--" said Gortre.
+
+"Good Lord deliver us," replied the vicar gravely.
+
+There was a tense silence for a time, only broken by the dropping of the
+coals in the grate. The vicar was the first to break it.
+
+"I'll sum up my personal impression of the man for and against," he
+said.
+
+Gortre nodded.
+
+"There can be no doubt whatever," said Mr. Byars, "that among all the
+great North-country millionaires--men of power and influence, I
+mean--Schuabe stands first and pre-eminent. His wealth is enormous to
+begin with. Then he is young--can hardly be forty yet, I should say. He
+belongs to the new generation. In Walktown he stands entirely alone.
+Then his brilliancy, his tremendous intellectual powers, are equalled by
+few men in England. His career at Oxford was marvellous, his political
+life, only just beginning as it is, seems to promise the very highest
+success. His private life, as far as we know--and everything about the
+man seems to point to an ascetic temperament and a refined habit--is
+without grossness or vice of any kind. In appearance he is one of the
+ten most striking-looking men in England. His manners are fascinating."
+
+Gortre laughed shortly, a mirthless, bitter laugh.
+
+"So far," he said, "you have drawn a picture which approaches the ideal
+of what a strong man should be. And I grant you every detail of it. But
+let me complete it. You will agree with me that mine also is true."
+
+His voice trembled a little. Half unconsciously his eyes wandered to the
+crucifix on the writing-table. In the red glow of the fire, which had
+now ceased to crackle and flame, the drooping figure on the cross showed
+distinct and clear in all its tremendous appeal to the hearts of
+mankind. Tears came into the young man's eyes, his face became drawn and
+pained. When he spoke, his voice was full of purpose and earnestness.
+
+"Yes," he said, with an unusual gesture of the hand, "Schuabe is all
+that you say. In a hard, godless, and material age he is an epitome of
+it. The curse of indifferentism is over the land. Men have forgotten
+that this world is but an inn, a sojourning place for a few hours. O
+fools and blind! The terror of death is always with them. But this man
+is far more than this--far, far more. To him has been given the eye to
+see, the heart to understand. _He, of all men living in England to-day,
+is the mailed, armed enemy of Our Lord._ No loud-mouthed atheist,
+sincere and blatant in his ignorance, no honest searcher after truth.
+All his great wealth, all his attainments, are forged into one devilish
+weapon. He is already, and will be in the future, the great enemy of
+Christianity. Oh, I have read his book! 'Even now there are many
+antichrists.' I have read his speeches in Parliament. I know his
+enormous influence over those unhappy people who call themselves
+'Secularists.' Like Diocletian, like Julian, _he hates Christ_. He is no
+longer a Jew. Judaism is nothing to him--one can reverence a Montefiore,
+admire an Adler. His attacks on the faith are something quite different
+to those of other men. As his skill is greater, so his intention is more
+evil. And yet how helpless are we who know! The mass of Christians--the
+lax, tolerant Christians--think he is a kind of John Morley. They praise
+his charities, his efforts for social amelioration. They quote, 'And God
+fulfils Himself in many ways.' I say again, O fools and blind! They do
+not know, they cannot see, this man as he is at heart, accursed and
+antichrist!" His voice dropped, tired with its passion and vehemence. He
+continued in a lower and more intimate vein:
+
+"Do you think I am a fanatic, vicar? Am I touched with monomania when I
+tell you that of late I have thought much upon the prophetic indications
+of the coming of 'the Man of Sin,' the antichrist in Holy Writ? Can it
+be, I have asked myself, as I watch the comet-like brilliance of this
+man's career, can it be that in my own lifetime and the lifetime of
+those I love, the veritable enemy of our Saviour is to appear? Is this
+man, this Jew, he of whom it is said in Jacob's words, 'Dan shall be a
+serpent by the way, an adder in the path'--the tribe of which _not one_
+was sealed?"
+
+"You are overwrought, Basil," said the elder man kindly. "You have let
+yourself dwell too much on this man and his influences. But I do not
+condemn you. I also have had my doubts and wonderings. The outside world
+would laugh at us and people who might be moved as we are at these
+things. But do we not live always with, and by help of, the Unseen? God
+alone knows the outcome of the trend of these antichristian influences,
+of which, I fear, Schuabe is the head. The Fathers are clear enough on
+the subject, and the learned men of mediæval times also. Let me read to
+you."
+
+He got up from his arm-chair, glad, it seemed, at opportunity of change
+and movement, and went to the book-shelves which lined the wall. His
+scholar's interest was aroused, his magnificent reading and knowledge of
+Christian history and beliefs engaged and active.
+
+He dipped into book after book, reading extracts from them here and
+there.
+
+"Listen. Marchantius says the ship of the Church will sink and be lost
+in the foam of infidelity, and be hidden in the blackness of that storm
+of desolation which shall arise at the coming of Antichrist. 'The sun
+shall be darkened and the stars shall fall from heaven.' He means, of
+course, the sun of faith, and that the stars, the great ecclesiastical
+dignitaries, shall fall into apostasy. But, he goes on to say, the
+Church will remain unwrecked, she will weather the storm and come forth
+'_beautiful as the moon, terrible as an army with banners_.'"
+
+His voice was eager and excited, his face was all alight with the
+scholar's eagerness, as he took down book after book with unerring
+instinct to illustrate his remarks.
+
+"Opinions as to the nature and personality of Antichrist have been very
+varied," he continued. "Some of the very early Christian writers say he
+will be a devil in a phantom body, others that he will be an incarnate
+demon, true man and true devil, in fearful and diabolic parody of the
+Incarnation of our Lord. There is a third view also. That is that he
+will be merely a desperately wicked man, acting upon diabolic
+inspirations, just as the saints act upon Divine inspirations.
+
+"Listen to St. John Damascene upon the subject. He is very express. 'Not
+as Christ assumed humanity, so will the Devil become human; but the Man
+will receive all the inspiration of Satan, and will suffer the Devil to
+take up his abode within him.'"
+
+Gortre, who was listening with extreme attention, made a short, sharp
+exclamation at this last quotation.
+
+He had risen from his seat and stood by the mantel-shelf, leaning his
+elbow upon it.
+
+One of the ornaments of the mantel was a head of Christ, photographed on
+china, from Murillo, and held in a large silver frame like a photograph
+frame.
+
+Just as the vicar had finished reading there came a sudden knock at the
+door. It startled Gortre, and he moved suddenly. His elbow slid along
+the marble of the shelf and dislodged the picture, which fell upon the
+floor and was broken into a hundred pieces, crashing loudly upon the
+fender.
+
+The housemaid, who had knocked, stood for a moment looking with dismay
+upon the breakage. Then she turned to the vicar.
+
+"Mr. Schuabe from Mount Prospect to see you, sir," she said. "I've shown
+him into the drawing-room."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+"I THINK HE IS A GOOD MAN"
+
+
+The servant had turned on the lights in the drawing room, where a low
+fire still glowed red upon the hearth, and left Constantine Schuabe
+alone to await the vicar's arrival.
+
+On either side of the fireplace were heavy hangings of emerald and
+copper woven stuff, a present to Helena from an uncle, who had bought
+them at Benares. Schuabe stood motionless before this background.
+
+The man was tall, above the middle height, and the heavy coat of fur
+which he was wearing increased the impression of proportioned size, of
+massiveness, which was part of his personality. His hair was a very dark
+red, smooth and abundant, of that peculiar colour which is the last to
+show the greyness of advancing age. His features were Semitic, but
+without a trace of that fulness, and sometimes coarseness, which often
+marks the Jew who has come to the middle period of life. The eyes were
+large and black, but without animation, in ordinary use and wont. They
+did not light up as he spoke, but yet the expression was not veiled or
+obscured. They were coldly, terribly _aware_, with something of the
+sinister and untroubled regard one sees in a reptile's eyes.
+
+The jaw, which dominated the face and completed its remarkable
+_ensemble_, was very massive, reminding people of steel covered with
+olive-coloured parchment. Handsome was hardly the word which fitted him.
+He was a strikingly handsome man; but that, like "distinction," was
+only one of the qualities which made up his personality. Force,
+power--the relentless and conscious power suggested by some great marine
+engine--surrounded him in an almost indescribable way. They were like
+exhalations. Most people, with the casual view, called him merely
+indomitable, but there were others who thought they read deeper and saw
+something evil and monstrous about the man; powerless to give an exact
+and definite reason for the impression, and dubious of voicing it.
+
+Nevertheless, now and again, two or three people would speak of him to
+each other without reserve, and on such occasions they generally agreed
+to this feeling of the sinister and malign, in much the same manner as
+the vicar and his curate had been agreeing but half an hour before his
+arrival at the house.
+
+The door opened with a quick click of the handle, and the vicar entered
+with something of suddenness. One might almost have supposed that he had
+lingered, hesitant, in the hall, and suddenly nerved himself for this
+encounter.
+
+Mr. Byars advanced to take the hand of his visitor. Beside the big man
+he seemed shrunken and a little ineffectual. He was slightly nervous in
+his manner also, for Basil's impassioned and terror-ridden words still
+rang in his ears and had their way with him.
+
+The coincidence of the millionaire's arrival was altogether too sudden
+and _bizarre_.
+
+When they had made greetings, cordial enough on the surface, and were
+seated on either side of the fire, Schuabe spoke at once upon the object
+of his visit.
+
+"I have come, Mr. Byars," he said, in a singularly clear, vibrant voice,
+"to discuss certain educational proposals with you. As you probably
+know, just at present I am taking a very prominent part in the House of
+Commons in connection with the whole problem of primary education.
+Within the last few weeks I have been in active correspondence with your
+School Board, and you will know all about the scholarships I have
+founded.
+
+"But I am now coming to you to propose something of the same sort in
+connection with your own Church schools. My opinions on religious
+matters are, of course, not yours. But despite my position I have always
+recognised that, with whatever means, both the clergy and my own party
+are broadly working towards one end.
+
+"Walktown provides me with very many thousands a year, and it is my duty
+in some way or another to help Walktown. My proposal is roughly this: I
+will found and endow two yearly scholarships for two boys in the
+national schools. The money will be sufficient, in the first instance,
+to send them to one of the great Northern Grammar Schools, and
+afterwards, always providing that the early promise is maintained, to
+either university.
+
+"My only stipulation is this. The tests shall be purely and simply
+intellectual, and have nothing whatever to do with the religious
+teaching of the schools, with which I am not in sympathy. Nevertheless,
+it is only fair that a clever boy in a Church school should have the
+same opportunities as in a secular school. I should tell you that I have
+made the same offer to the Roman Catholic school authorities and it has
+been declined."
+
+The vicar listened with great attention. The offer was extremely
+generous, and showed a most open-minded determination to put the donor's
+personal prejudices out of the question. There could be no doubt as to
+his answer--none whatever.
+
+"My dear sir," he said, "your generosity is very great. I see your point
+about the examinations. Religion is to form no part of them exactly. But
+by the time one of our boys submits himself for examination we should
+naturally hope that he would already be so firmly fixed in Christian
+principles that his after-career would have no influence upon his faith.
+Holding the opinions that you do, your offer shows a great freedom from
+any prejudice. I hope I am broad-minded enough to recognise that
+philanthropy is a fine, lovely thing, despite the banner under which the
+philanthropist may stand. I accept your generous offer in the spirit
+that it is made. Of course, the scheme must be submitted to the managers
+of the schools, of whom I am chief, but the matter practically lies with
+me, and my lead will be followed."
+
+"I am only too glad," said the big man, with a sudden and transforming
+smile, "to help on the cause of knowledge. All the details of the scheme
+I will send you in a few days, and now I will detain you no longer."
+
+He rose to go.
+
+During their brief conversation the vicar had been conscious of many
+emotions. He blamed himself for his narrowness and the somewhat
+fantastic lengths to which his recent talk with Gortre had gone. The man
+was an infidel, no doubt. His intellectual attacks upon Christian faith
+were terribly damaging and subversive. Still, his love for his
+fellow-men was sincere, it seemed. He attacked the faith, but not the
+preachers of it. And--a half thought crossed his brain--he might have
+been sent to him for some good purpose. St. Paul had not always borne
+the name of Paul!
+
+These thoughts, but half formulated in his brain, had their immediate
+effect in concrete action.
+
+"Won't you take off your coat, Mr. Schuabe," he said, "and smoke a cigar
+with me in my study?"
+
+The other hesitated a moment, looked doubtful, and then assented. He
+hung his coat up in the hall and went into the other room with the
+vicar.
+
+During the conversation in the drawing-room Helena had come back from
+the concert, and Basil, hearing her, had left the study and gone to her
+own private sanctum for a last few minutes before saying good-night.
+
+Helena sat in a low chair by the fire sipping a bowl of soup which the
+maid had brought up to her. She was a little tired by the concert, where
+a local pianist had been playing a nocturne of Chopin's as if he wanted
+to make it into soup, and the quiet of her own sitting-room, the
+intimate comfort of it all, and the sense of happiness that Basil's
+presence opposite gave her were in delightful contrast.
+
+"It was very stupid, dear," she said. "Mrs. Pryde was rather trying,
+full of dull gossip about every one, and the music wasn't good. Mr.
+Cuthbert played as if he was playing the organ in church. His touch is
+utterly unfitted for anything except the War March from _Athalie_ with
+the stops out. He knows nothing of the piano. I was in a front seat, and
+I could see his knee feeling for the swell all the time. He played _the_
+sonata as if he was throwing the moonlight at one in great solid chunks.
+I'm glad to be back. How nice it is to sit here with you, dearest!--and
+how good this Bovril is!" she concluded with a little laugh of content
+and happiness at this moment of acute physical and mental ease.
+
+He looked lovingly at her as she lay back in rest and the firelight
+played over her white arms and pale gold hair.
+
+"It's wonderful to think," he said, with a little catch in his voice,
+"it's wonderful to me, an ever-recurring wonder, to think that some day
+you and I will always be together for all our life, here and afterwards.
+What supreme, unutterable happiness God gives to His children! Do you
+know, dear, sometimes as I read prayers or stand by the altar, I am
+filled with a sort of rapture of thankfulness which is voiceless in its
+intensity. Tennyson got nearer to expressing it than any one in that
+beautiful _St. Agnes' Eve_ of his--a little gem which, with its
+simplicity and fervour, is worth far more than Keats's poem with all its
+literary art."
+
+"It is good to feel like that sometimes," she answered; "but it is well,
+I think, not to get into the way of _inducing_ such feelings. The human
+brain is such a sensitive thing that one can get into the way of
+drugging it with emotion, as it were. I think I am tinged a little with
+the North-country spirit. I always think of Newman's wonderful lines--
+
+    "'The thoughts control that o'er thee swell and throng;
+    They will condense within the soul and turn to purpose strong.
+    But he who lets his feelings run in soft luxurious flow,
+    Shrinks when hard service must be done, and faints at every blow.'
+
+"I only quote from memory. But you look tired, dear boy; you are rather
+white. Have you been overworking?"
+
+He did not answer immediately.
+
+"No," he said slowly, "but I've been having a long talk with the vicar.
+We were talking about Mr. Schuabe and his influence. Helena, that man is
+the most active of God's enemies in England. Almost when I was
+mentioning his name, by some coincidence, or perhaps for some deeper,
+more mysterious, psychical reason which men do not yet understand, the
+maid announced him. He had come to see your father on business,
+and--don't think I am unduly fanciful--the Murillo photograph, the head
+of Christ, on the mantel-shelf, fell down and was broken. He is here
+still, I think."
+
+"Yes," said Helena; "Mr. Schuabe is in the study with father. But, Basil
+dear, it's quite evident to me that you've been doing too much. Do you
+know that I look upon Mr. Schuabe as a really _good_ man! I have often
+thought about him, and even prayed that he may learn the truth; but God
+has many instruments. Mr. Schuabe is sincere in his unbelief. His life
+and all his actions are for the good of others. It is terrible--it is
+deplorable--to know he attacks Christianity; but he is tolerant and
+large-minded also. Yes, I should call him a good man. He will come to
+God some day. God would not have given him such power over the minds and
+bodies of men otherwise."
+
+Gortre smiled a little sadly,--a rather wan smile, which sat strangely
+upon his strong and hearty face--, but he said no more.
+
+He knew that his attitude was illogical, perhaps it could be called
+bigoted and intolerant--a harsh indictment in these easy, latitudinarian
+days; but his conviction was an intuition. It came from within, from
+something outside or beyond his reason, and would not be stifled.
+
+"Well, dear," he said, "perhaps it is as you say. Nerves which are
+overwrought, and a system which is run down, certainly have their say,
+and a large say, too, in one's attitude towards any one. Now you must go
+to bed. I will go down and say good-night to the rector and Mr.
+Schuabe--just to show there's no ill-feeling; though, goodness knows, I
+oughtn't to jest about the man. Good-night, sweet one; God bless you.
+Remember me also in your prayers to-night."
+
+She kissed him in her firm, brave way--a kiss so strong and loving, so
+pure and sweet, that he went away from that little room of books and
+_bric-à-brac_ as if he had been sojourning in some shrine.
+
+As Basil came into the study he found Mr. Byars and Schuabe in eager,
+animated talk. A spirit decanter had been brought in during his
+absence, and the vicar was taking the single glass of whisky-and-water
+he allowed himself before going to bed. Basil, who was in a singularly
+alert and observant mood, noticed that a glass of plain seltzer water
+stood before the millionaire.
+
+Gortre's personal acquaintance with Schuabe was of the slightest. He had
+met him once or twice on the platform of big meetings, and that was all.
+A simple curate, unless socially,--and Schuabe did not enter into the
+social life of Walktown, being almost always in London,--he would not be
+very likely to come in the way of this mammoth.
+
+But Schuabe greeted him with marked cordiality, and he sat down to
+listen to the two men.
+
+In two minutes he was fascinated, in five he realised, with a quick and
+unpleasant sense of inferiority, how ignorant he was beside these two.
+In Schuabe the vicar found a man whose knowledge was as wide and
+scholarship as profound as his own.
+
+From a purely intellectual standpoint, probably Gortre and Schuabe were
+more nearly on a level, but in pure knowledge he was nowhere. He
+wondered, as he listened, if the generation immediately preceding his
+own had been blessed with more time for culture, if the foundation had
+been surer and more comprehensive, when they were _alumni_ of the
+"loving mother" in the South.
+
+They were discussing archæological questions connected with the Holy
+Land.
+
+Schuabe possessed a profound and masterly knowledge of the whole Jewish
+background to the Gospel picture, not merely of the archæology, which in
+itself is a life study, but of the essential characteristics of Jewish
+thought and feeling, which is far more.
+
+Of course, every now and again the conversation turned towards a
+direction that, pursued, would have led to controversy. But, with mutual
+tact, the debatable ground was avoided. That Christ was a historic fact
+Schuabe, of course, admitted and implied, and when the question of His
+Divinity seemed likely to occur he was careful and adroit to avoid any
+discussion.
+
+To the young man, burning with the zeal of youth, this seemed a pity.
+Unconsciously, he blamed the vicar for not pressing certain points home.
+
+What an opportunity was here! The rarity of such a visit, the obvious
+interest the two men were beginning to take in each other--should not a
+great blow for Christ be struck on such an auspicious night? Even if the
+protest was unavailing, the argument overthrown, was it not a duty to
+speak of the awful and eternal realities which lay beneath this vivid
+and brilliant interchange of scholarship?
+
+His brain was on fire with passionate longing to speak. But,
+nevertheless, he controlled it. None knew better than he the depth and
+worth of the vicar's character. And he felt himself a junior; he had no
+right to question the decision of his superior.
+
+"You have missed much, Mr. Byars," said Schuabe, as he arose to go at
+last, "in never having visited Jerusalem. One can get the knowledge of
+it, but never the colour. And, even to-day, the city must appear, in
+many respects, exactly as it did under the rule of Pilate. The Fellah
+women sell their vegetables, the camels come in loaded with roots for
+fuel, the Bedouin, the Jews with their long gowns and slippers--I wish
+you could see it all. I have eaten the meals of the Gospels, drunk the
+red wine of Saron, the spiced wine mixed with honey and black pepper,
+the 'wine of myrrh' mentioned in the Gospel of Mark. I have dined with
+Jewish tradesmen and gone through the same formalities of hand-washing
+as we read of two thousand years ago; I have seen the poor
+ostentatiously gathered in out of the streets and the best part of the
+meal given them for a self-righteous show. And yet, an hour afterwards,
+I have sat in a _café_ by King David's Tower and played dice with
+Turkish soldiers armed with Martini rifles!"
+
+The vicar seemed loath to let his guest go, though the hour was late,
+but he refused to stay longer. Mr. Byars, with a somewhat transparent
+eagerness, mentioned that Gortre's road home lay for part of the way in
+the same direction as the millionaire's. He seemed to wish the young man
+to accompany him, almost, so Basil thought, that the charm of his
+personality might rebuke him for his tirade in the early part of the
+evening.
+
+Accordingly, in agreement with the vicar's evident wish, but with an
+inexplicable ice-cold feeling in his heart, he left the house with
+Schuabe and began to walk with him through the silent, lamp-lit
+streets.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE SMOKE CLOUD AT DAWN
+
+
+The two men strode along without speaking for some way. Their feet
+echoed in the empty streets.
+
+Suddenly Schuabe turned to Basil. "Well, Mr. Gortre," he said, "I have
+given you your opportunity. Are you not going to speak the word in
+season after all?"
+
+The young man started violently. Who was this man who had been reading
+his inner thoughts? How could his companion have fathomed his sternly
+repressed desire as he sat in the vicarage study? And why did he speak
+now, when he knew that some chilling influence had him in its grip, that
+his tongue was tied, his power weakened?
+
+"It is late, Mr. Schuabe," he said at length, and very gravely. "My
+brain is tired and my enthusiasm chilled. Nor are you anxious to hear
+what I have to say. But your taunt is ungenerous. It almost seems as if
+you are not always so tolerant as men think!"
+
+The other laughed--a cold laugh, but not an unkindly one. "Forgive me,"
+he said, "one should not jest with conviction. But I should like to talk
+with you also. There are lusts of the brain just as there are lusts of
+the flesh, and to-night I am in the mood and humour for conversation."
+
+They were approaching a side road which led to Gortre's rooms.
+Schuabe's great stone house was still a quarter of a mile away up the
+hill.
+
+"Do not go home yet," said Schuabe, "come to my house, see my books, and
+let us talk. Make friends with the mammon of unrighteousness, Mr.
+Gortre! You are disturbed and unstrung to-night. You will not sleep.
+Come with me."
+
+Gortre hesitated for a moment, and then continued with him. He was
+hardly conscious why he did so, but even as he accepted the invitation
+his nerves seemed recovered as by some powerful tonic. A strange
+confidence possessed him, and he strode on with the air and manner of a
+man who has some fixed purpose in his brain.
+
+And as he talked casually with Schuabe, he felt towards him no longer
+the cold fear, the inexplicable shrinking. He regarded him rather as a
+vast and powerful enemy, an evil, sinister influence, indeed, but one
+against which he was armed with an armour not his own, with weapons
+forged by great and terrible hands.
+
+So they entered the drive and walked up among the gaunt black trees
+towards the house.
+
+Mount Prospect was a large, castellated modern building of stone. In a
+neighbourhood where architectural monstrosities abounded, perhaps it
+outdid them all in its almost brutal ugliness and vulgarity. It had been
+built by Constantine Schuabe's grandfather.
+
+The present owner was little at Walktown. His Parliamentary and social
+duties bound him to London, and when he had time for recreation the
+newspapers announced that he had "gone abroad," and until he was
+actually seen again in the midst of his friends his disappearances were
+mysterious and complete.
+
+In London he had a private set of rooms at one of the great hotels.
+
+But despite his rare visits, the hideous stone palace in the smoky North
+held all the treasures which he himself had collected and which had been
+left to him by his father.
+
+It was understood that at his death the pictures and library were to
+become the property of the citizens of Manchester, held in trust for
+them by the corporation.
+
+Schuabe took a key from his pocket and opened the heavy door in the
+porch.
+
+"I always keep the house full of servants," he said, "even when I am
+away, for a dismantled house and caretakers are horrible. But they will
+be all gone to bed now, and we must look after ourselves."
+
+Opening an inner door, they passed through some heavy padded curtains,
+which fell behind them with a dull thud, and came out into the great
+hall.
+
+Ugly as the shell of the great building was, the interior was very
+different.
+
+Here, set like a jewel in the midst of the harsh, forbidding country,
+was a treasure-house of ordered beauty which had few equals in England.
+
+Gortre drew a long, shuddering breath of pleasure as he looked round.
+Every æsthetic influence within him responded to what he saw. And how
+simple and severe it all was! Simply a great domed hall of white marble,
+brilliantly lit by electric light hidden high above their heads. On
+every side slender columns rose towards the dome, beyond them were tall
+archways leading to the rooms of the house; dull, formless curtains,
+striking no note of colour, hung from the archways.
+
+In the centre of the vast space, exactly under the dome, was a large
+pool of still green water, a square basin with abrupt edges, having no
+fountain nor gaudy fish to break its smoothness.
+
+And that was all, literally all. No rugs covered the tesselated floor,
+not a single seat stood anywhere. There was not the slightest suggestion
+of furniture or habitation. White, silent, and beautiful! As Gortre
+stood there, he knew, as if some special message had been given him,
+that he had come for some great hidden purpose, that it had been
+foreordained. His whole soul seemed filled with a holy power, unseen
+powers and principalities thronged round him like sweet but awful
+friends.
+
+He turned inquiringly towards his host. Schuabe's face was very pale;
+the calm, cruel eyes seemed agitated; he was staring at the priest.
+"Come," he said in a voice which seemed to be without its usual
+confidence; "come, this place is cold--I have sometimes thought it a
+little too bare and fantastic--come into the library; let us eat and
+talk."
+
+He turned and passed through the pillars on the right. Gortre followed
+him through the dark, heavy curtains which led to the library.
+
+They found themselves in an immense low-ceilinged room. The floor was
+covered with a thick carpet of dull blue, and their feet made no sound
+as they passed over it towards the blazing fire, which glowed in an old
+oak framework of panelling and ingle-nook brought from an ancient
+manor-house in Norfolk.
+
+At one end of the room was a small organ, cased, modern as the mechanism
+was, in priceless Renaissance painted panels from Florence and set in a
+little octagonal alcove hung with white and yellow.
+
+The enormous writing-table of dark wood stood in front of the fireplace
+and was covered with books and papers. By it was a smaller circular
+table laid with a white cloth and shining glass and silver for a meal.
+
+"My valet is in bed," said Schuabe; "I hate any one about me at night,
+and I prefer to wait on myself then. 'From the cool cisterns of the
+midnight air my spirit drinks repose.' If you will wait here a few
+moments I will go and get some food. I know where to find some. Pray
+amuse yourself by looking at my books."
+
+He left the room noiselessly, and Basil turned towards the walls. From
+ceiling to floor the immense room was lined with shelves of enamelled
+white wood, here and there carved with tiny florid bunches of fruit and
+flowers--Jacobean work it seemed.
+
+A few pictures here and there in spaces between the shelves--the hectic
+flummery of a Whistler nocturne; a woman _avec cerises_, by Manet; a
+green silk fan, painted with _fêtes gallantes_, by Conder--alone broke
+the many-coloured monotony of the books.
+
+Gortre had, from his earliest Oxford days, been a lover of books and a
+collector in a moderate, discriminating way. As a rule he was roused to
+a mild enthusiasm by a fine library. But as his practised eye ran over
+the shelves, noting the beauty and variety of the contents, he was
+unmoved by any special interest. His brain, still, so it seemed, under
+some outside and compelling instinct or influence, was singularly
+detached from ordinary interests and rejected the books' appeal.
+
+Close to where he stood the shelves were covered with theological works.
+Müller's _Lectures on the Vedanta Philosophy_, Romane's _Reply to Dr.
+Lightfoot_, De la Saussaye's _Manual_, stood together. His hand had been
+wandering unconsciously over the books when it was suddenly arrested,
+and stopped on a familiar black binding with plain gold letters. It was
+an ordinary reference edition of the Holy Bible, the "pearl" edition
+from the Oxford University Press.
+
+There was something familiar and homely in the little dark volume, which
+showed signs of constant use. A few feet away was a long shelf of Bibles
+of all kinds, rare editions, expensive copies bound up with famous
+commentaries--all the luxuries and _éditions de luxe_ of Holy Writ. But
+the book beneath his fingers was the same size and shape as the one
+which stood near his own bedside in his rooms--the one which his father
+had given him when he went to Harrow, with "Flee youthful lusts" written
+on the fly-leaf in faded ink. It was homelike and familiar.
+
+He drew it out with a half smile at himself for choosing the one book he
+knew by heart from this new wealth of literature.
+
+Then a swift impulse came to him.
+
+Gortre could not be called a superstitious man. The really religious
+temperament, which, while not rejecting the aids of surface and symbol,
+has seen far below them, rarely is "superstitious" as the word has come
+to be understood.
+
+The familiar touch, the pleasant sensation of the limp, rough leather on
+his finger-balls gave him a feeling of security. But that very fact
+seemed to remind him that some danger, some subtle mental danger, was
+near. Was this Bible sent to him? he wondered. Were his eyes and hands
+_directed_ to it by the vibrating, invisible presences which he felt
+were near him? Who could say?
+
+But he took the book in his right hand, breathed a prayer for help and
+guidance--if it might so be that God, who watched him, would speak a
+message of help--and opened it at random.
+
+He was about to make a trial of that old mediæval practice of
+"searching"--that harmless trial of faith which a modern hard-headed
+cleric has analysed so cleverly, so completely, and so entirely
+unsatisfactorily.
+
+He opened the book, with his eyes fixed in front of him, and then let
+them drop towards it. For a moment the small type was all blurred and
+indistinct, and then one text seemed to leap out at him.
+
+It was this--
+
+     "TAKE YE HEED, WATCH AND PRAY: FOR YE KNOW NOT WHEN THE TIME IS."
+
+This, then, was his message! He was to _watch_, to pray, for the time
+was at hand when--
+
+The curtain slid aside, and Schuabe entered with a tray. He had changed
+his morning coat for a long dressing-gown of camel's-hair, and wore
+scarlet leather slippers.
+
+Basil slipped the Bible back into its place and turned to face him.
+
+"I live very simply," he said, "and can offer you nothing very
+elaborate. But here is some cold chicken, a watercress salad, and a
+bottle of claret."
+
+They sat down on opposite sides of the round table and said little. Both
+men were tired and hungry. After he had eaten, the clergyman bent his
+head for a second or two in an inaudible grace, and made the sign of the
+Cross before he rose from his chair.
+
+"Symbol!" said Schuabe, with a cold smile, as he saw him.
+
+The truce was over.
+
+"What is that Cross to which all Christians bow?" he continued. "It was
+the symbol of the water-god of the Gauls, a mere piece of their
+iconography. The Phœnician ruin of Gigantica is built in the shape of a
+cross; the Druids used it in their ceremonies; it was Thor's hammer long
+before it became Christ's gibbet; it is used by the pagan Icelanders to
+this day as a magic sign in connection with storms of wind. Why, the
+symbol of Buddha on the reverse of a coin found at Ugain is the same
+cross, the 'fylfot' of Thor. The cross was carved by Brahmins a thousand
+years before Christ in the caves of Elephanta. I have seen it in India
+with my own eyes in the hands of Siva Brahma and Vishnu! The worshipper
+of Vishnu attributes as many virtues to it as the pious Roman Catholic
+here in Salford to the Christian Cross. There is the very strongest
+evidence that the origin of the cross is phallic! The _crux ansata_ was
+the sign of Venus: it appears beside Baal and Astarte!"
+
+"Very possibly, Mr. Schuabe," said Gortre, quietly. "Your knowledge on
+such points is far wider than mine; but that does not affect
+Christianity in the slightest."
+
+"Of course not! Who ever said it did? But this reverence for the cross,
+the instrument of execution on which an excellent teacher, and, as far
+as we know, a really good man, suffered, angers me because it reminds me
+of the absurd and unreasoning superstitions which cloud the minds of so
+many educated men like yourself."
+
+"Ah," said Gortre, quietly, "now we are 'gripped.' We have come to the
+point."
+
+"If you choose, Mr. Gortre," Schuabe answered; "you are an intellectual
+man, and one intellectual man has a certain right to challenge another.
+I was staying with Lord Haileybury the other day, and I spent two whole
+mornings walking over the country with the Bishop of London, talking on
+these subjects. He very ably endeavoured to bring physical and
+psychological science into a single whole. But all he seemed to me to
+prove was this, crystallised into an axiom or at least a postulate.
+_Conscious volition is the ultimate source of all force._ It is his
+belief that behind the sensuous and phenomenal world which gives it
+form, existence, and activity, lies the ultimate invisible, immeasurable
+power of Mind, conscious Will, of Intelligence, analogous to our own;
+and--mark this essential corollary--_that man is in communication with
+it_, and that was positively all he could do for me! I met him there
+easily enough, but when he tried to prove a _revelation_--Christianity
+--he utterly broke down. We parted very good friends, and I gave him a
+thousand pounds for the East London poor fund. But still, say what you
+will to me. I am here to listen."
+
+He looked calmly at the young man with his unsmiling eyes. He held a
+Russian cigarette in his fingers, and he waved it with a gentle gesture
+of invitation as if from an immeasurable superiority.
+
+And as Gortre watched him he knew that here was a brain and intelligence
+far keener and finer than his own. But with all that certainty he felt
+entirely undismayed, strangely uplifted.
+
+"I have a message for you, Mr. Schuabe," he began, and the other bowed
+slightly, without irony, at his words. "I have a message for you, one
+which I have been sent here--I firmly believe--to deliver, but it is not
+the message or the argument that you expect to hear."
+
+He stopped for a short time, marshalling his mental forces, and noticing
+a slight but perceptible look of surprise in his host's eyes.
+
+"I know you better than you imagine, sir," he said gravely, "and not as
+many other good and devout Christians see you. I tell you here to-night
+with absolute certainty that you are the active enemy of Christ--I say
+_active_ enemy."
+
+The face opposite became slightly less tranquil, but the voice was as
+calm as ever.
+
+"You speak according to your lights, Mr. Gortre," he said. "I am no
+Christian, but there is much good in Christianity. My words and writings
+may have helped to lift the veil of superstition and hereditary
+influences from the eyes of many men, and in that sense I am an enemy of
+the Christian faith, I suppose. My sincerity is my only apology--if one
+were needed. You speak with more harshness and less tolerance than I
+should have thought it your pleasure or your duty to use."
+
+Gortre rose. "Man," he cried, with sudden sternness, "I _know! You hate
+our Lord_, and would work Him evil. You are as Judas was, for to-night
+it is given me to read far into your brain."
+
+Schuabe rose quickly from his chair and stood facing him. His face was
+pallid, something looked out of his eyes which almost frightened the
+other.
+
+"What do you know?" he cried as if in a swift stroke of pain. "Who--?"
+He stopped as if by a tremendous effort.
+
+Some thought came to reassure him.
+
+"Listen," he said. "I tell you, paid priest as you are, a blind man
+leading the blind, that a day is coming when all your boasted fabric of
+Christianity will disappear. It will go suddenly, and be swept utterly
+away. And you, you shall see it. You shall be left naked of your faith,
+stripped and bare, with all Christendom beside you. Your pale Nazarene
+shall die amid the bitter laughter of the world, die as surely as He
+died two thousand years ago, and no man or woman shall resurrect Him.
+You know nothing, but you will remember my words of to-night, until you
+also become as nothing and endure the inevitable fate of mankind."
+
+He had spoken with extraordinary vehemence, hissing the words out with a
+venom and malice, general rather than particular, from which the
+Churchman shrunk, shuddering. There was such unutterable _conviction_ in
+the thin, evil voice that for a moment the pain of it was like a spasm
+of physical agony.
+
+Schuabe had thrown down the mask; it was even as Gortre said, the soul
+of Iscariot looked out from those eyes. The man saw the clergyman's
+sudden shrinking.
+
+The smile of a devil flashed over his face. Gortre had turned to him
+once more and he saw it. And as he watched an awful certainty grew
+within him, a thought so appalling that beside it all that had gone
+before sank into utter insignificance.
+
+He staggered for a moment and then rose to his full height, a fearful
+loathing in his eyes, a scorn like a whip of fire in his voice.
+
+Schuabe blanched before him, for he saw the truth in the priest's soul.
+
+"As the Lord of Hosts is my witness," cried Gortre loudly, "I know you
+now for what you are! YOU KNOW THAT CHRIST IS GOD!"
+
+Schuabe shrank into his chair.
+
+"ANTICHRIST!" pealed out the accusing voice. "You know the truth full
+well, and, knowing, in an awful presumption you have dared to lift your
+hand against God."
+
+Then there was a dead silence in the room. Schuabe sat motionless by the
+dying fire.
+
+Very slowly the colour crept back into his cheeks. Slowly the strength
+and light entered his eyes. He moved slightly.
+
+At last he spoke.
+
+"Go," he said. "Go, and never let me see your face again. You have
+spoken. Yet I tell you still that such a blinding blow shall descend on
+Christendom that----"
+
+He rose quickly from his chair. His manner changed utterly with a
+marvellous swiftness.
+
+He went to the window and pulled aside the curtain. A chill and ghostly
+dawn came creeping into the library.
+
+"Let us make an end of this," he said quietly and naturally. "Of what
+use for you and me, atoms that we are, to wrangle and thunder through
+the night over an infinity in which we have neither part nor lot? Come,
+get you homewards and rest, as I am about to do. The night has been an
+unpleasant dream. Treat it as such. We differ on great matters. Let that
+be so and we will forget it. You shall have a friend in me if you will."
+
+Gortre, hardly conscious of any voluntary movements, his brain in a
+stupor, the arteries all over his body beating like little drums, took
+the hat and coat the other handed to him, and stumbled out of the house.
+
+It was about five o'clock in the morning, raw, damp, and cold.
+
+With a white face, drawn and haggard with emotion, he strode down the
+hill. The keen air revived his physical powers, but his brain was
+whirling, whirling, till connected thought was impossible.
+
+What was it? What was the truth about that nightmare, that long, horrid
+night in the warm, rich room? His powers were failing; he must see a
+doctor after breakfast.
+
+When he reached the foot of the hill, and was about to turn down the
+road which led to his rooms, he stopped to rest for a moment.
+
+From far behind the hill, over the dark, silhouetted houses of the
+wealthy people who lived upon it, a huge, formless pall of purple smoke
+was rising, and almost blotting out the dawn in a Titanic curtain of
+gloom. The feeble new-born sun flickered redly through it, the colour of
+blood. There was no wind that morning, and the fog and smoke from the
+newly lit factory chimneys in the Irwell valley could not be dispersed.
+It crept over the town like doom itself--menacing, vast, unconquerable.
+
+He pulled out his latch-key with trembling hand, and turned to enter his
+own door.
+
+The cloud was spreading.
+
+"Lighten our darkness," he whispered to himself, half consciously, and
+then fell fainting on the door-step, where they found him soon, and
+carried him in to the sick-bed, where he lay sick of a brain-fever a
+month or more.
+
+_Lighten our darkness!_
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+A LOST SOUL
+
+
+In his great room at the British Museum, great, that is, for the private
+room of an official, Robert Llwellyn sat at his writing-desk finishing
+the last few lines of his article on the Hebrew inscription in mosaic,
+which had been discovered at Kefr Kenna.
+
+It was about four in the afternoon, growing dark with the peculiarly
+sordid and hopeless twilight of a winter's afternoon in central London.
+A reading lamp upon the desk threw a bright circle of light on the sheet
+of white unlined paper covered with minute writing, which lay before the
+keeper of Biblical antiquities in the British Museum.
+
+The view from the tall windows was hideous and almost sinister in its
+ugliness. Nothing met the eye but the gloomy backs of some of the great
+dingy lodging-houses which surround the Museum, bedroom windows, back
+bedrooms with dingy curtains, vulgarly unlovely.
+
+The room itself was official looking, but far from uncomfortable. There
+were many book-shelves lining the walls. Over them hung large-framed
+photographs and drawings of inscriptions. On a stand by itself, covered
+with a glass shade, was a duplicate of Dr. Schick's model of the Haram
+Area during the Christian occupation of Jerusalem.
+
+A dull fire glowed in the large open fireplace.
+
+Llwellyn wrote a final line with a sigh of relief and then leaned far
+back in his swivel chair. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were dull
+with some inward communing, apparently of a disturbing and unpleasant
+kind.
+
+The door opened noiselessly (all the dwellers in the mysterious private
+parts of the Museum walk without noise, and seem to have caught in their
+voices something of that almost religious reverence emanating from
+surroundings out of the immemorial past), and Lambert, the assistant
+keeper and secretary, entered.
+
+He drew up a chair to the writing-desk.
+
+"The firman has been granted!" he said.
+
+A quick interest shone on Professor Llwellyn's face.
+
+"Ah!" he said, "it has come at last, then, after all these months of
+waiting. I began to despair of the Turkish Government. I never thought
+it would be granted. Then the Society will really begin to excavate at
+last in the prohibited spots! Really that is splendid news, Lambert. We
+shall have some startling results. Results, mind you, which will be
+historical, historical! I doubt but that the whole theory of the Gospel
+narrative will have to be reconstructed during the next few years!"
+
+"It is quite possible," said Lambert. "But, on the other hand, it may
+happen that nothing whatever is found."
+
+Llwellyn nodded. Then a sudden thought seemed to strike him. "But how do
+you know of this, Lambert?" he said, "and how has it happened?"
+
+Lambert was a pleasant, open-faced fellow, young, and with a certain air
+of distinction. He laughed gaily, and returned his chief's look of
+interest with an affectionate expression in his eyes.
+
+"Ah!" he said, "I have heard a great deal, sir, and I have some thing to
+tell you which I am very happy about. It is gratifying to bring you the
+first news. Last night I was dining with my uncle, Sir Michael
+Manichoe, you know. The Home Secretary was there, a great friend of my
+uncle's. You know the great interest he takes in the work of the
+Exploration Society, and his general interest in the Holy Land?"
+
+"Oh, of course," said Llwellyn. "He's the leader of the uncompromising
+Protestant party in the House; owes his position to it, in fact. He
+breakfasts with the Septuagint, lunches off the Gospels, and sups with
+Revelations. Well?"
+
+"It is owing to his personal interest in the work," continued Lambert,
+"that the Sultan has granted the firman. After dinner he took me aside,
+and we had a longish talk. He was very gracious, and most eager to hear
+of all our recent work here, and additions to the collections in our
+department. I was extremely pleased, as you may imagine. He spoke of
+you, sir, as the greatest living authority--wouldn't hear of Conrad
+Schick or Clermont-Ganneau in the same breath with you. He went on to
+say in confidence, and he hinted to me that I had his permission to tell
+you, though he didn't say as much in so many words, that they are going
+to offer you knighthood in a few days!"
+
+A sudden flush suffused the face of the elder man. Then he laughed a
+little.
+
+"Your news is certainly unexpected, my dear boy," he said, "and, for my
+part, knighthood is no very welcome thing personally. But it would be
+idle to deny that I'm pleased. It means recognition of my work, you see.
+In that way only, it is good news that you have brought."
+
+"That's just it, Professor," the young man answered enthusiastically.
+"That's exactly it. Sir Robert Llwellyn, or Mr. Llwellyn, of course,
+cannot matter to you personally. But it _is_ a fitting and graceful
+recognition of the _work_. It is a proper thing that the greatest
+living authority on the antiquities and history of Asia Minor should be
+officially recognised. It encourages all of us, you see, Professor."
+
+The young man's generous excitement pleased Llwellyn. He placed his hand
+upon his shoulder with a kindly, affectionate gesture.
+
+At that moment a messenger knocked and entered with a bundle of letters,
+which had just arrived by the half-past-four post, and, with a
+congratulatory shake of the hand, Lambert left his chief to his
+correspondence.
+
+The great specialist, when he had left the room, rose from his chair,
+went towards the door with swift, cat-like steps, and locked it. Then he
+returned to the desk, opened a deep drawer with a key which he drew from
+his watch-pocket, and took a silver-mounted flask of brandy from the
+receptacle. He poured a small dose of brandy into the metal cup and
+drank it hurriedly.
+
+Then he leaned back once more in his chair.
+
+Professor Llwellyn's face was familiar to all readers of the illustrated
+press. He was one of the few famous _savants_ whose name was a household
+word not only to his colleagues and the learned generally, but also to
+the great mass of the general public.
+
+In every department of effort and work there are one or two men whose
+personality seems to catch the popular eye.
+
+His large, clean-shaven face might have belonged to a popular comedian;
+his portly figure had still nothing of old age about it. He was
+sprightly and youthful in manner despite his fat. The small, merry,
+green eyes--eyes which had yet something furtive and "alarmed" in them
+at times--stood for a concrete personification of good humour. His
+somewhat sensual lips were always smiling and jolly on public occasions.
+His enormous erudition and acknowledged place among the learned of
+Europe went so strangely with his appearance that the world was pleased
+and tickled by the paradox.
+
+It was a fine thing to think that the spectacled Dry-as-dust was gone.
+That era of animated mummy was over, and when The World read of
+Professor Llwellyn at a first night of the Lyceum, or the guest of
+honour at the Savage Club, it forgot to jeer at his abstruse erudition.
+
+Scholars admitted his scholarship, and ordinary men and women welcomed
+him as _homme du monde_.
+
+The Professor replaced the flask in the drawer and locked it. His hand
+trembled as he did so. The light which shone on the white face showed it
+eloquent with dread and despair. Here, in the privacy of the huge,
+comfortable room, was a soul in an anguish that no mortal eyes could
+see.
+
+The Professor had locked the door.
+
+The letters which the messenger had brought were many in number and
+various in shape and style.
+
+Five or six of them, which bore foreign stamps and indications that they
+came from the Continental antiquarian societies, he put on one side to
+be opened and replied to on the morrow.
+
+Then he took up an envelope addressed to him in firm black writing and
+turned it over. On the flap was the white, embossed oval and crown,
+which showed that it came from the House of Commons. His florid face
+became paler than before, the flesh of it turned grey, an unpleasant
+sight in so large and ample a countenance, as he tore it open. The
+letter ran as follows:
+
+     "HOUSE OF COMMONS.
+
+     "DEAR LLWELLYN,--I am writing to you now to say that I am quite
+     determined that the present situation shall not continue. You must
+     understand, finally, that my patience is exhausted, and that,
+     unless the large sum you owe me is repaid within the next week, my
+     solicitors have my instructions, which are quite unalterable, to
+     proceed in bankruptcy against you without further delay.
+
+     "The principal and interest now total to the sum of fourteen
+     thousand pounds. Your promises to repay, and your innumerable
+     requests for more time in which to do so, now extend over a period
+     of three years. I have preserved all your letters on the subject at
+     issue between us, and I find that, so far from decreasing your
+     indebtedness when your promises became due, you have almost
+     invariably asked me for further sums, which, in foolish confidence,
+     as I feel now, I have advanced to you.
+
+     "It would be superfluous to point out to you what bankruptcy would
+     mean to you in your position. Ruin would be the only word. And it
+     would be no ordinary bankruptcy. I have a by no means uncertain
+     idea where these large sums have gone, and my knowledge can hardly
+     fail to be shared by others in London society.
+
+     "I have still a chance to offer you, however, and, perhaps, you
+     will find me by no means the tyrant you think.
+
+     "There are certain services which you can do me, and which, if you
+     fall in with my views, will not only wipe off the few thousands of
+     your indebtedness, but provide you with a capital sum which will
+     place you above the necessity for any such financial manœuvres in
+     the future as your--shall I say _infatuation_?--has led you to
+     resort to in the past.
+
+     "If you care to lunch with me at my rooms in the Hotel Cecil, at
+     two o'clock, the day after to-morrow--Friday--we may discuss your
+     affairs quietly. If not, then I must refer you to my solicitors
+     entirely.
+
+     "Yours sincerely,
+          "CONSTANTINE SCHUABE."
+
+The big man gave a horrid groan--half snarl, half groan--the sound
+which comes from a strong animal desperate and at bay.
+
+He crossed over to the fireplace and pushed the letter down into a
+glowing cavern among the coals, holding it there with the poker until it
+was utterly consumed and fluttered up the chimney from his sight in a
+sheet of ash--the very colour of his relaxed and pendulous cheeks.
+
+He opened another letter, a small, fragile thing written on mauve paper,
+in a large, irregular hand--a woman's hand:--
+
+
+     "15 BLOOMSBURY COURT MANSIONS.
+
+     "DEAR BOB--I shall expect you at the flat to-night at eleven,
+     _without fail_. You'd better come, or things which you won't like
+     will happen.
+
+     "You've just _got_ to come.--Yours,    GERTRUDE."
+
+He put this letter into his pocket and began to walk the room in long,
+silent strides.
+
+A little after five he put on a heavy fur coat and left the now silent
+and gloomy halls of the Museum.
+
+The lamps of Holborn were lit and a blaze of light came from Oxford
+Circus, where the winking electric advertisements had just begun their
+work on the tops of the houses.
+
+A policeman saluted the Professor as he passed, and was rewarded by a
+genial smile and jolly word of greeting, which sent a glow of pleasure
+through his six feet.
+
+Llwellyn walked steadily on towards the Marble Arch and Edgeware Road.
+The continual roar of the traffic helped his brain. It became active and
+able to think, to plan once more. The steady exercise warmed his blood
+and exhilarated him.
+
+There began to be almost a horrid pleasure in the stress of his
+position. The danger was so immediate and fell; the blow would be so
+utterly irreparable, that he was near to enjoying his walk while he
+could still consider the thing from a detached point of view.
+
+Throughout life that had always been his power. A strange resilience had
+animated him in all chances and changes of fortune.
+
+He was that almost inhuman phenomenon, a sensualist with a soul.
+
+For many years, while his name became great in Europe and the solid
+brilliancy of his work grew in lustre as he in age, he had lived two
+lives, finding an engrossing joy in each.
+
+The lofty scientific world of which he was an ornament had no points of
+contact with that other and unspeakable half-life. Rumours had been
+bruited, things said in secret by envious and less distinguished men,
+but they had never harmed him. His colleagues hardly understood them and
+cared nothing. His work was all-sufficient; what did it matter if
+smaller people with forked tongues hissed horrors of his private life?
+
+The other circles--the lost slaves of pleasure--knew him well and were
+content. He came into the night-world a welcome guest. They knew nothing
+of his work or fame beyond dim hintings of things too uninteresting for
+them to bother about.
+
+He turned down the Edgeware Road and then into quiet Upper Berkeley
+Street, a big, florid, prosperous-looking man, looking as though the
+world used him well and he was content with all it had to offer.
+
+His house was but a few doors down the street and he went up-stairs to
+dress at once. He intended to dine at home that night.
+
+His dressing-room, out of which a small bedroom opened, was large and
+luxurious. A clear fire glowed upon the hearth; the carpet was soft and
+thick. The great dressing-table with its three-sided mirror was covered
+with brushes and ivory jars, gleaming brightly in the rays of the little
+electric lights which framed the mirror. A huge wardrobe, full of
+clothes neatly folded and put away, suggested a man about town, a dandy
+with many sartorial interests. An arm-chair of soft green leather,
+stamped with red-gold pomegranates, stood by a small black table
+stencilled with orange-coloured bees. On the table stood a cigarette-box
+of finely plaited cream-coloured straw, woven over silver and
+cedar-wood, and with Llwellyn's initials in turquoise on one lid.
+
+He threw off his coat and sank into the chair with a sigh of pleasure at
+the embracing comfort of it. Then his fingers plunged into the tea which
+filled the box on the table and drew out a tiny yellow cigarette.
+
+He smoked in luxurious silence.
+
+He had already half forgotten the menacing letter from Constantine
+Schuabe, the imperative summons to the flat in Bloomsbury Court
+Mansions. This was a moment of intense physical ease. The flavour of his
+saffron Salonika cigarette, a tiny glass of garnet-coloured _cassis_
+which he had poured out, were alike excellent. All day long he had been
+at work on a brilliant monograph dealing with the new Hebrew mosaics.
+Only two other living men could have written it. But his work also had
+fallen out of his brain. At that moment he was no more than a great
+animal, soulless, with the lusts of the flesh pouring round him,
+whispering evil and stinging his blood.
+
+A timid knock fell upon the door outside. It opened and Mrs. Llwellyn
+came slowly in.
+
+The Professor's wife was a tall, thin woman. Her untidy clothes hung
+round her body in unlovely folds. Her complexion was muddy and
+unwholesome; but the unsmiling, withered lips revealed a row of fair,
+white, even teeth. It was in her eyes that one read the secret of this
+lady. They were large and blue, once beautiful, so one might have
+fancied. Now the light had faded from them and they were blurred and
+full of pain.
+
+She came slowly up to her husband's chair, placing one hand timidly upon
+it.
+
+"Oh, is that you?" he said, not brutally, but with a complete and utter
+indifference. "I shall want some dinner at home to-night. I shall be
+going out about ten to a supper engagement. See about it now, something
+light. And tell one of the maids to bring up some hot water."
+
+"Yes, Robert," she said, and went out with no further word, but sighing
+a little as she closed the door quietly.
+
+They had been married fifteen years. For fourteen of them he had hardly
+ever spoken to her except in anger at some household accident. On her
+own private income of six hundred a year she had to do what she could to
+keep the house going. Llwellyn never gave her anything of the thousand a
+year which was his salary at the Museum, and the greater sums he earned
+by his work outside it. She knew no one, the Professor went into none
+but official society, and indeed but few of his colleagues knew that he
+was a married man. He treated the house as a hotel, sleeping there
+occasionally, breakfasting, and dressing. His private rooms were the
+only habitable parts of the house. All the rest was old, faded, and
+without comfort. Mrs. Llwellyn spent most of her life with the two
+servants in the kitchen.
+
+She always swept and tidied her husband's rooms herself. That afternoon
+she had built and coaxed the fire with her own hands.
+
+She slept in a small room at the top of the house, next to the maids,
+for company.
+
+This was her life.
+
+Over the head of the little iron bedstead of her room hung a great
+crucifix.
+
+That was her hope.
+
+When Llwellyn was rioting in nameless places she prayed for him during
+the night. She prayed for him, for herself, and for the two servant
+girls, very simply--that Heaven might receive them all some day.
+
+The maid brought up some dinner for the Professor--a little soup, a
+sole, and some _camembert_.
+
+He ate slowly, and smoked a short light-brown cigar with his coffee.
+Then he bathed, put on evening clothes, dressing himself with care and
+circumspection, and left the house.
+
+In the Edgeware Road he got into a hansom and told the man to drive him
+to Bloomsbury Court Mansions.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE WHISPER
+
+
+Robert Llwellyn paid the cabman outside the main gateway which led into
+the courtyard, and dismissed him.
+
+The Court Mansions were but a few hundred yards from the British Museum
+itself, though he never visited them in the day time. A huge building,
+like a great hotel, rose skyward in a square. In the quadrangle in the
+centre, which was paved with asphalt, was an ornamental fountain
+surrounded by evergreen plants in tubs.
+
+The Professor strode under the archway, his feet echoing in the
+stillness, and passed over the open space, which was brilliantly lit
+with the hectic radiance of arc lamps. He entered one of the doorways,
+and turning to the right of the ground-floor, away from the lift which
+was in waiting to convey passengers to the higher storeys, he stopped at
+No. 15.
+
+He took a latch-key from his pocket, opened the door, and entered. It
+was very warm and close inside, and very silent also. The narrow hall
+was lit by a crimson-globed electric lamp. It was heavily carpeted, and
+thick curtains of plum-coloured plush, edged with round, fluffy balls of
+the same colour, hung over the doors leading into it.
+
+He hung his hat up on a peg, and stood perfectly silent for a moment in
+the warm, scented air. He could hear no sound but the ticking of a
+French clock. The flat was obviously empty; and pulling aside one of
+the curtains, he went into the dining-room.
+
+The place was full of light. Gertrude Hunt, or her maid, had, with
+characteristic carelessness, forgotten to turn off the switches.
+Llwellyn sat down and looked around him. How familiar the place was! The
+casual visitor would have recognised at a glance that the occupant of
+the room belonged to the dramatic profession.
+
+Photographs abounded everywhere. The satinwood overmantel was crowded
+with them in heavy frames of chased silver. Bold enlargements hung on
+the crimson walls; they were upright, and stacked in disorderly heaps
+upon the grand piano.
+
+All were of one woman--a dark Jewish girl with eyes full of a fixed
+fascination, a trained regard of allurement.
+
+The eyes pursued him everywhere; bold and inviting, he was conscious of
+their multitude, and moved uneasily.
+
+The dining-table was in a curious litter. Half-empty cups of egg-shell
+china stood upon a tray of Japanese lacquer inlaid with ivory and
+silver; a cake basket held pink and honey-coloured bon-bons, among which
+some cigarette ends had fallen. Two empty bottles, which had held
+champagne, stood side by side, cheek by jowl, with a gilt tray, on which
+was a miniature methyl lamp and some steel curling tongs.
+
+The arm-chairs were upholstered in pink satin. On one of them was a long
+fawn-coloured tailor-made coat, hanging collar downwards over the back.
+A handful of silver and a tiny gun-metal cigarette case had dropped out
+of a pocket on to the seat of the chair.
+
+The whole place reeked with a well-known perfume--an evil, sickly smell
+of ripe lilies and the acrid smoke of Egyptian tobacco. A frilled
+dressing jacket covered with yellowish lace lay in a tumbled heap upon
+the hearth-rug.
+
+The room would have struck an ordinary visitor with a sense of nausea
+almost like a physical blow. There was something sordidly shameless
+about it. The vulgarest and most material of Circes held sway among all
+this gaudy and lavish disorder. The most sober-living and
+innocent-minded man, brought suddenly into such a place, would have
+known it instantly for what it was, and turned to fly as from a
+pestilence.
+
+A week or two before, a picture of this den had appeared in one of the
+illustrated papers. Underneath the photograph had been printed--
+
+    "THE BOUDOIR OF ONE OF LONDON'S POPULAR FAVOURITES.
+
+    MISS GERTRUDE HUNT AT HOME."
+
+Below had been another picture--"Miss Hunt in her new motor-car." Robert
+Llwellyn had paid four hundred pounds for the machine.
+
+The big man seemed to fit into these surroundings as a hand into a
+glove. In his room at the Museum, on a platform at the Royal Society,
+his intellect always animated his face. In such places his personality
+was eminent, as his work also.
+
+Here he was changed. Silenus was twin to him; he sniffed the perfume
+with pleasure; he stretched himself to the heat and warmth like a great
+cat. He was an integral part of the _mise-en-scène_--lost, and arrogant
+of his degradation.
+
+A key clicked in the lock, there was a rustling of silk, and Gertrude
+Hunt swept into the room.
+
+"So you're come to time, then," she said in a deep, musical voice, but
+spoilt by an unpleasing Cockney twang. "I'm dead tired. The theatre was
+crammed; I had to sing the _Coon of Coons_ twice. Get me a
+brandy-and-soda, Bob. There's a good boy--the decanter's in the
+sideboard."
+
+She threw off her long cloak and sank into a chair. The sticky
+grease-paint of the theatre had hardly been removed. She looked, as she
+said, worn out.
+
+They chatted for a few moments on indifferent subjects, and she lit a
+cigarette. When she took it from her lips, Llwellyn noticed that the end
+was crimsoned by the paint upon them.
+
+"Well," she said at length, "somehow or other you must pay those bills I
+sent on to you. They _must_ be paid. I can't do it. I'm only getting
+twenty-five pounds from the theatre now, and that's just about enough to
+pay my drink bill!"
+
+Llwellyn's face clouded. "I'm just about at my last gasp myself," he
+said. "I'm threatened with bankruptcy as it is."
+
+"Oh, cheer up!" she cried. "Here, have a B. and S. I do hate to hear any
+one talk like that. It gives me the hump at once. Now look here, Bob.
+You know that I like you better than any one else. We've been pals for
+seven or eight years now, and I'd rather have you a thousand times than
+the others. You understand that, don't you?"
+
+He nodded back at her. His face was pleased at her expression of
+affection, at the kindness of this dancing-girl to the great scholar!
+
+"But," she continued, "you know me, and you know that I can't go on
+unless I have what I want all the time. And I want a lot, too. If you
+can't give it me, Bob, it must be some one else--that's all. Captain
+Parker's ready to do anything, any time. He's almost a millionaire, you
+know. Can't you raise any 'oof anyhow? If I'd a thousand at once, and
+another in a week or two, I could manage for a bit. But I _must_ have a
+river-house at Shepperton. That cat, Lulu Wallace, has one, and an
+electric launch and all. What about your German friend--the M.P.? _He's_
+got tons of stuff. Touch him for a bit more."
+
+"Had a letter from him this afternoon," said Llwellyn, "with a demand
+for about fourteen thousand that I owe him now. Threatens to sell me up.
+But there was something which looked brighter at the end of the letter,
+though I couldn't quite make out what he was driving at."
+
+"What was that?"
+
+"The tone of the letter changed; it had been nasty before. He said that
+I could do him a service for which he would not only wipe out the old
+debt, but for which I could get a lot more money."
+
+"You'll go to him at once, Bob, won't you?"
+
+"I suppose I must. There's no way out of it. I can't think, though, how
+I can do him any service. He's a dabbler, an amateur in my own work, but
+he's not going to pay a good many thousands for any help in _that_."
+
+"Let it alone till you find out," she said, with the instinctive dislike
+of her class to the prolonged discussion of anything unpleasant. She got
+up and rang the bell for her maid and supper.
+
+For some reason Llwellyn could eat nothing. A weight oppressed him--a
+presage of danger and disaster. The unspeakable mental torments that the
+vicious man who is highly educated undergoes--torments which assail him
+in the very act and article of his pleasures--have never been adequately
+described. "What a frail structure his honours and positions were," he
+thought as the woman chatted of the _coulisses_ and the blackguard news
+of the _demi-monde_. His indulgent life had acted on the Professor with
+a dire physical effect. His nerves were unstrung and he became
+childishly superstitious. The slightest hint of misfortune set his brain
+throbbing with a horrid fear. The spectre of overwhelming disaster was
+always waiting, and he could not exorcise it.
+
+The two accidental and trivial facts that the knives at his place were
+crossed, and that he spilt the salt as he was passing it to his
+mistress, set him crossing himself with nervous rapidity.
+
+The girl laughed at him, but she was interested nevertheless. For the
+moment they were on an intellectual level. He explained that the sign of
+the Cross was said to avert misfortune, and she imitated him clumsily.
+
+Llwellyn thought nothing of it at the time, but the meaningless travesty
+came back afterwards when he thought over that eventful night.
+
+Surely the holy sign of God's pain was never so degraded as now.
+
+Their conversation grew fitful and strained. The woman was physically
+tired by her work at the theatre, and the dark cloud of menace crept
+more rapidly into the man's brain. The hour grew late. At last Llwellyn
+rose to go.
+
+"You'll get the cash somehow, dear, won't you?" she said with tired
+eagerness.
+
+"Yes, yes, Gertie," he replied. "I suppose I can get it somehow. I'll
+get home now. If it's a clear night I shall walk home. I'm
+depressed--it's liver, I suppose--and I need exercise."
+
+"Have a drink before you go?"
+
+"No, I've had two, and I can't take spirits at this time."
+
+He went out with a perfunctory and uninterested kiss. She came to the
+archway with him.
+
+London was now quite silent in its most mysterious and curious hour.
+The streets were deserted, but brilliantly lit by the long row of lamps.
+
+They stood talking for a moment or two in the quadrangle.
+
+"Queer!" she said; "queer, isn't it, just now? I walked back from the
+Covent Garden ball once at this time. Makes you feel lonesome. Well, so
+long, Bob. I shall have a hot bath and go to bed."
+
+The Professor's feet echoed loudly on the flags as he approached the
+open space. Never had he seemed to hear the noises of his own progress
+so clearly before. It was disconcerting, and emphasised the fact of his
+sole movement in this lighted city of the dead.
+
+On the island in the centre of the cross-roads he suddenly caught sight
+of a tall policeman standing motionless under a lamp. The fellow seemed
+a figure of metal hypnotised by the silence.
+
+Llwellyn walked onwards, when, just as he was passing the Oxford Music
+Hall, he became conscious of quick footsteps behind him. He turned
+quickly, and a man came up. He was of middle size, with polite, watchful
+eyes and clean shaven.
+
+The stranger put his hand into the pocket of his neat, unobtrusive black
+overcoat and drew out a letter.
+
+"For you, sir," he said in calm, ordinary tones.
+
+The Professor stared at him in uncontrollable surprise and took the
+envelope, opening it under a lamp. This was the note. He recognised the
+handwriting at once.
+
+     "HOTEL CECIL.
+
+     "DEAR LLWELLYN,--Kindly excuse the suddenness of my request and
+     come down to the Cecil with my valet. I have sent him to meet you.
+     I want to settle our business to-night, and I am certain that we
+     shall be able to make some satisfactory arrangement. I know you do
+     not go to bed early.--Most sincerely yours,
+
+          "CONSTANTINE SCHUABE."
+
+"This is a very sudden request," he said to the servant rather
+doubtfully, but somewhat reassured by the friendly signature of the
+note. "Why, it's two o'clock in the morning!"
+
+"Extremely sorry to trouble you, sir," replied the valet civilly, "but
+my master's strict orders were that I should find you and deliver the
+note. He told me that you would probably be visiting at Bloomsbury Court
+Mansions, so I waited about, hoping to meet you. I brought the _coupé_,
+sir, in case we should not be able to get you a cab."
+
+Following the direction of his glance, Llwellyn saw that a small
+rubber-tired brougham to seat two people was coming slowly down the
+road. The coachman touched his hat as the Professor got in, and, turning
+down Charing Cross Road, in a few minutes they drove rapidly into the
+courtyard of the hotel.
+
+Schuabe had not been established at the Cecil for any length of time.
+Though he owned a house in Curzon Street, this was let for a long period
+to Miss Mosenthal, his aunt, and he had hitherto lived in chambers at
+the Albany.
+
+But he found the life at the hotel more convenient and suited to his
+temperament. His suite of rooms was one of the most costly even in that
+great river palace of to-day, but such considerations need never enter
+into his life.
+
+The utter unquestioned freedom of such a life, its entire liberation
+from any restraint or convention, suited him exactly.
+
+Llwellyn had never visited Schuabe in his private apartments before at
+any time. As he was driven easily to the meeting he nerved himself for
+it, summoning up all his resolution. He swept aside the enervating
+influences of the last few hours.
+
+Schuabe was waiting in the large sitting-room with balconies upon which
+he could look down upon the embankment and the river. It was his
+favourite among all the rooms of the suite.
+
+He looked gravely and also a little curiously at the Professor as he
+entered the room. There was a question in his eyes; the guest had a
+sensation of being measured and weighed with some definite purpose.
+
+The greeting was cordial enough. "I am very sorry, Llwellyn, to catch
+you suddenly like this," Schuabe said, "but I should like to settle the
+business between us without delay. I have certain proposals to make you,
+and if we agree upon them there will be much to consider, as the thing
+is a big one. But before we talk of this let me offer you something to
+eat."
+
+The Professor had recovered his hunger. The chill of the night air, the
+sudden excitement of the summons, and, though he did not realise it, the
+absence of patchouli odours in his nostrils, had recalled an appetite.
+
+The space and air of the huge room, with its high roof, was soothing
+after Bloomsbury Court Mansions.
+
+Supper was spread for two on a little round table by the windows.
+Schuabe ate little, but watched the other with keen, detective eyes,
+talking meanwhile of ordinary, trivial things. Nothing escaped him, the
+little gleam of pleasure in Llwellyn's eyes at the freshness of the
+caviare, the Spanish olives he took with his partridge--rejecting the
+smaller French variety--the impassive watchful eyes saw it all.
+
+It was too late for coffee, Llwellyn said, when the man brought it, in a
+long-handled brass pan from Constantinople, but he took a _kümmel_
+instead.
+
+The two men faced each other on each side of the table. Both were
+smoking. For a moment there was silence; the critical time was at hand.
+Then Schuabe spoke. His voice was cold and steady and very businesslike.
+As he talked the voice seemed to wrap round Llwellyn like steel bands.
+There was something relentless and inevitable about it; bars seemed
+rising as he spoke.
+
+"I am going to be quite frank with you, Llwellyn," he said, "and you
+will find it better to be quite frank with me."
+
+He took a paper from the pocket of his smoking jacket and referred to it
+occasionally.
+
+"You owe me now about fourteen thousand pounds?"
+
+"Yes, it is roughly that."
+
+"Please correct me if I am wrong in any point. Your salary at the
+British Museum is a thousand pounds a year, and you make about fifteen
+hundred more."
+
+"Yes, about that, but how do you----"
+
+"I have made it my business to know everything, Professor. For example,
+they are about to offer you knighthood."
+
+Llwellyn stirred uneasily, and the hand which stretched out for another
+cigarette shook a little.
+
+"I need hardly point out to you," the cold words went on, and a certain
+sternness began to enforce them, "I need hardly point out that if I were
+to take certain steps, your position would be utterly ruined."
+
+"Bankruptcy need not entirely ruin a man."
+
+"It would ruin you. You see _I know where the money has gone_. Your
+private tastes are nothing to me, and it is not my business if you
+choose to spend a fortune on a cocotte. But in your position, as the
+very mainspring and arm of the Higher Criticism of the Bible, the
+revelations which would most certainly be made would ruin you
+irreparably. Your official posts would all go at once, your name would
+become a public scandal everywhere. In England one may do just what one
+likes if only one does not in any way, by reason of position or
+attainments, belong to the nation. You _do_ belong to the nation. You
+can never defy public opinion. With the ethical point of view I have
+nothing personally to do. But to speak plainly, in the eyes of the great
+mass of English people you would be stamped as an irredeemably vicious
+man, if everything came out. That is what they would call you. At one
+blow everything--knighthood, honour, place--all would flash away.
+Moreover, you would have to give up the other side of your life. There
+would be no more suppers with Phryne or rides to Richmond in the new
+motor-car."
+
+He laughed, a low, contemptuous laugh which stung. Llwellyn's face had
+grown pale. His large, white fingers picked uneasily at the table-cloth.
+
+His position was very clearly shown to him, with greater horror and
+vividness than ever it had come to him before, even in his moments of
+acutest depression.
+
+The overthrow would be indeed utter and complete. With the greedy
+imagination of the sensualist he saw himself living in some cheap
+foreign town, Bruges perhaps, or Brussels, upon his wife's small income,
+bereft alike of work and pleasure.
+
+"All you say is true," he murmured as the other made an end. "I am in
+your power. It is best to be plain about these things. What is your
+alternative?"
+
+"My alternative, if you accept it, will mean certain changes to you.
+First of all, it will be necessary for you to obtain a year's leave from
+the British Museum. I had thought of asking you to resign your position,
+but that will not be necessary, I think, now. This can be arranged with
+a specialist easily enough. Even if your health does not really warrant
+it, a word from me to Sir James Fyfe will manage that. You will have to
+travel. In return for your services and your absolute secrecy--though
+when you hear my proposals you will realise that perhaps in the whole
+history of the world never was secrecy so important to any man's
+safety--I will do as follows. I will wipe off your debt at once. I will
+pay you ten thousand pounds in cash this week, and during the year, as
+may be agreed upon between us, I will make over forty thousand pounds
+more to you. In all fifty thousand pounds, exclusive of your debt."
+
+His voice had not been raised, nor did it show any excitement during
+this tremendous proposal. The effect on Llwellyn was very different. He
+rose from his chair, trembling with excitement, staring with bloodshot
+eyes at the beautiful chiselled face below.
+
+"You--you _mean_ it?" he said huskily.
+
+The millionaire made a single confirmatory gesture.
+
+Then the whole magnitude and splendour of the offer became gradually
+plain to him in all its significance.
+
+"I suppose," he said, "that, as the payment is great, the risk is
+commensurate."
+
+"There will be none if you do what I shall ask properly. Only two other
+men living would do it, and, first and foremost, you will have to guard
+against _their_ vigilance."
+
+"Then, in God's name, what do you ask?" Llwellyn almost shouted. The
+tension was almost unbearable.
+
+Schuabe rose from his seat. For the first time the Professor saw that he
+was terribly agitated. His eyes glowed, the apple in his throat worked
+convulsively.
+
+"_You are to change the history of the world!_"
+
+He drew Llwellyn into the very centre of the room, and held him firmly
+by the elbows. Tall as the Professor was, Schuabe was taller, and he
+bent and whispered into the other's ear for a full five minutes.
+
+There was no sound in the room but the low hissing of his sibilants.
+
+Llwellyn's face became white, and then ashen grey. His whole body seemed
+to shrink from his clothes; he trembled terribly.
+
+Then he broke away from his host and ran to the fireplace with an odd,
+jerky movement, and sank cowering into an arm-chair, filled with an
+unutterable dread.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As morning stole into the room the Professor took a bundle of bills and
+acknowledgements from Schuabe and thrust them into the fire with a great
+sob of relief.
+
+Then he turned into a bedroom and sank into the deep slumber of absolute
+exhaustion.
+
+He did not go to the Museum that day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+LAST WORDS AT WALKTOWN
+
+
+The great building of the Walktown national schools blazed with light.
+Every window was a patch of vivid orange in the darkness of the walls.
+The whole place was pervaded by a loud, whirring hum of talk and
+laughter and an incredible rattle of plates and saucers.
+
+In one of the classrooms down-stairs Helena Byars, with a dozen other
+ladies of the parish, presided over a scene of intense activity. Huge
+urns of tea ready mixed with the milk and sugar, were being carried up
+the stone stairs to the big schoolroom by willing hands. Piles of thick
+sandwiches of ham, breakfast-cups of mustard, hundreds of slices of
+moist wedge-shaped cake covered the tables, lessening rapidly as they
+were carried away to the crowded rooms above.
+
+A Lancashire church tea-party was in full swing, for this was the
+occasion when Basil Gortre was to say an official farewell to the people
+among whom he had worked in the North.
+
+In the tea-room itself several hundred people were making an enormous
+meal at long tables, under flaring, naked gas-lights, which sent
+shimmering vapours of heat up to the pitch-pine beams of the room above.
+
+On the walls of the schoolroom hung long, map-like pictures, heavily
+glazed. Some of them were representations of foreign animals, or trees
+and plants, with the names printed below each in thick black type.
+Others represented scenes from the life of Christ, and though somewhat
+stiff and wooden, showed clearly the immense strides that educational
+art has taken during the past few years.
+
+At one end of the room was a platform running along its length. Some
+palms and tree-ferns in pots, chairs, a grand piano, and some music
+stands, promised a concert when tea should be over.
+
+All the ladies of the parish were acting as attendants, or presiding at
+the urns on each table. There could be no doubt that the people were in
+a state of high good humour and enjoyment. Every now and again a great
+roar of laughter would break through the prevailing hum from one table
+or another. Despite the almost stifling heat and a mixed odour of
+humanity and ham, which a sensitive person might have shrunk from, the
+rough, merry Lancashire folk were happy as may be.
+
+Basil Gortre, in his long, black coat, his skin somewhat pale from his
+long illness, walked from table to table, spending a few minutes at
+each. His face was wreathed in perpetual smiles, and roars of laughter
+followed each sally of his wit, a homely cut-and-thrust style of humour
+adapted to his audience. The fat mothers of families, wives of
+prosperous colliers and artisans, with their thick gold earrings and
+magenta frocks, beamed motherhood and kindliness at him. The
+Sunday-school teachers giggled and blushed with pleasure when he spoke.
+
+The vicar, smiling paternally as was his wont, walked up and down the
+gangways also, toying with the _pince-nez_ at his breast, and very
+successfully concealing the fact from every one that he was by no means
+in the seventh heaven of happiness. Tea-parties, so numerous and popular
+in the North, were always somewhat of a trial to him.
+
+Basil and Mr. Byars met in the middle of the room when the tea was
+nearly over. Tears were gleaming in the eyes of the younger man.
+
+"It is hard to leave them all," he said. "How good and kind they are,
+how hearty! And these are the people I thought disliked me and
+misunderstood me. I resented what I thought was a vulgar familiarity and
+a coarse dislike. But how different they are beneath the surface!"
+
+"They have warm, loyal hearts, Basil," said the vicar. "It is a pity
+that such uncouth manners and exteriors should go with them. Surface
+graces may not mean much, but there is no doubt they have a tremendous
+influence over the human mind. During your illness the whole parish
+thought of little else, I really believe. And to-night you will have
+very practical evidence of their friendship. You know, of course, that
+there is going to be a presentation?"
+
+"Yes. I couldn't help knowing that much, though I wish they wouldn't."
+
+"It is very good of them. Now I shall call for grace."
+
+The vicar made his way on to the platform and loudly clapped his hands.
+The tumult died suddenly away into silence, punctuated here and there by
+a belated rattle of a teacup and the spasmodic choking of some one
+endeavouring to bolt a large piece of cake in a hurry.
+
+"We will now sing grace," Mr. Byars said in a clear and audible
+voice,--"the _Old Hundred_, following our usual custom."
+
+As he spoke a little, bearded man in a frock-coat clambered up beside
+him. This was Mr. Cuthbert, the organist of the parish church. The
+little man pulled a tuning-fork from his pocket and struck it on the
+back of a chair.
+
+Then he held it to his ear for a moment. The people had all risen, and
+the room was now quite silent.
+
+"La!" sang the little organist, giving the note in a long, melodious
+call.
+
+He raised his hand, gave a couple of beats in the air, and the famous
+old hymn burst out royally. The great volume of sound seemed too fierce
+and urgent even for that spacious room. It pressed against the ear-drums
+almost with pain, though sung with the perfect time and tune which are
+the heritage of the sweet-voiced North-country folk:--
+
+    "_All people that on earth do dwell,
+      Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice!_"
+
+How hearty it was! How strong and confident!
+
+As Basil Gortre listened his heart expanded in love and fellowship
+towards these brother Christians. The dark phantoms which had rioted in
+his sick brain during the long weeks of his illness lay dead and
+harmless now. The monstrous visions of a conventional and formal
+Christianity, covering a world of secret and gibing atheism, seemed
+incredibly far removed from the glorious truth, as these strong, homely
+people sang a full-voiced _ave_ to the great brooding Trinity of Power
+and Love unseen, but all around them.
+
+Who was he to be refined and too dainty for his uses? There seemed
+nothing incongruous in the picture before his eyes. The litter of broken
+ham, the sloppy cups, the black-coated men with brilliant sky-blue satin
+ties, the women with thick gnarled hands and clothes the colour of a
+copper kettle, what were they now but his very own brethren, united in
+this burst of praise?
+
+And he joined in the doxology with all his heart and voice, his clear
+tenor soaring joyously above the rest:
+
+    "_To FATHER, SON, and HOLY GHOST,
+      The GOD Whom Heaven and earth adore,
+    From men and from the Angel-host
+      Be praise and glory evermore. Amen._"
+
+It ceased with suddenness. There was the satisfied silence of a second,
+and then the attendant helpers, assisted by the feasters, fell swiftly
+upon the tables. Cloths and crockery vanished like snow melting in
+sunlight, and as each table was laid bare it was turned up by a patent
+arrangement, and became a long bench with a back, which was added to the
+rows of seats facing the platform. As each iron-supported seat was
+pushed noisily into its place it was filled up at once with a laughing
+crowd, replete but active, smacking anticipatory chops over the
+entertainment and speech-making to come.
+
+Mr. Cuthbert, a painstaking pianist, whose repertoire was noisily
+commonplace, opened the concert with a solo.
+
+Songs and recitations followed. All were well received by an audience
+which was determined to enjoy itself, but it was obvious that the real
+event of the gathering was eagerly awaited.
+
+At last the eventful moment arrived. A table covered with green baize
+and bearing some objects concealed by a cloth was carried on the
+platform, and a row of chairs placed on either side of it.
+
+The vicar, Basil, a strange clergyman, and a little group of
+black-coated churchwardens and sidesmen filed upon the platform amid
+tumultuous cheering and clapping of hands.
+
+Mr. Pryde, the solicitor, rose first, and pronounced a somewhat pompous
+but sincere eulogy upon Basil's work and life at Walktown, which was
+heard in an absolute and appreciative silence, only broken by the
+scratching pencil of the reporter from a local paper.
+
+Then he called upon the vicar to make the presentation.
+
+Basil advanced to the table.
+
+"My dear friends and fellow-workers," said Mr. Byars, "I am not going to
+add much to what Mr. Pryde has said. As most of you know, Mr. Gortre
+stands and is about to stand to me in even a nearer and more intimate
+relation than that of assistant priest to his parish priest. But before
+giving Mr. Gortre the beautiful presents which your unbounded generosity
+has provided, and in order that you may have as little speech-making
+from me as possible, I want to take this opportunity of introducing the
+Reverend Henry Nuttall to you to-night."
+
+He bowed towards the stranger clergyman, a pleasant, burly, clean-shaven
+man.
+
+"I am going from among you for a couple of months, as I believe you have
+been told, and Mr. Nuttall is to take my place as your temporary pastor
+for that time. My doctor has ordered me rest for a time. So my daughter
+and myself, together with Mr. Gortre, who sadly needs change after his
+illness, and who is not to take up his duties in London for several
+weeks, are going away together for a holiday. And now I will simply ask
+Mr. Gortre to accept this tea-service and watch in the name of the
+congregation of St. Thomas as a token of their esteem and good-will."
+
+He pulled the cloth away and displayed some glittering silver vessels.
+Then he handed the agitated young man a gold watch in a leather case.
+
+Basil faced the shouting, enthusiastic crowd, staring through dimmed
+eyes at the long rows of animated faces.
+
+When there was a little silence he began to speak in a voice of great
+emotion.
+
+Very simply and earnestly he thanked them for their good-will and
+kindness.
+
+"This may be," he said, "the last time I shall ever have the privilege
+and pleasure of speaking to you. I want to give you one last message. I
+want to urge one and all here to-night to do one thing. Keep your faith
+unspotted, unstained by doubts, uninfluenced by fears. Do that and all
+will be well with you here and hereafter." His voice sank a full tone
+and he spoke with marked emphasis. "I have sometimes thought and felt of
+late that possibly the time may be at hand, we who are here to-night may
+witness a time, when the Powers and Principalities of evil will make a
+great and determined onslaught upon the Christian Faith. I may not read
+the signs of the times aright, my premonitions--for they have sometimes
+amounted even to that--may be unfounded or imaginary. But if such a time
+shall come, if the 'horror of great darkness,' a spiritual horror, that
+we read of in Genesis, descend upon the world and envelop it in its
+gloom and terror, oh! let us have faith. Keep the light burning
+steadily. 'Let nothing disturb thee; let nothing affright thee. All
+passeth: God only remaineth.' And now, dear brothers and sisters in the
+Holy Faith, thank you, God bless you, and farewell."
+
+There was a tense silence as his voice dropped to a close.
+
+Here and there a woman sobbed.
+
+There was something peculiar about his warning. He spoke almost in
+prophecy, as if he _knew_ of some terror coming, and saw its advance
+from afar. His face, pale and thin from fever, his bright, earnest eyes,
+not the glittering eyes of a fanatic, but the saner, wiser ones of the
+earnest single-minded man, had an immense influence with them there.
+
+And that night, as they trudged home to mean dwellings, or suburban
+villas, or rolled away in carriages, each person heard the intense,
+quiet voice warning them of the future, exhorting them to be steadfast
+in the Faith.
+
+Seed which bore most fragrant blossom in the time which, though they
+knew it not, was close at hand was sown that night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A DINNER AT THE PANNIER D'OR
+
+
+Helena stood with her hand raised to her eyes, close by the port
+paddle-box, staring straight in front of her at a faint grey line upon
+the horizon.
+
+A stiff breeze was blowing in the Channel, though the sun was shining
+brightly on the tossing waters, all yellow-green with pearl lights, like
+a picture by Henry Moore.
+
+By the tall, graceful figure of the girl, swaying with the motion of the
+steamer and bending gracefully to the sudden onslaughts of the wind,
+stood a thick-set man of middle height, dressed in a tweed suit. His
+face was a strong one. Heavy reddish eyebrows hung over a pair of clear
+grey eyes, intellectual and kindly. The nose was beak-like and the
+large, rugged, red moustache hid the mouth.
+
+This was Harold Spence, the journalist with whom Gortre was to live
+after the holiday was over and he began his work in Bloomsbury. Spence
+was snatching a few days from his work in Fleet Street, in order to
+accompany Gortre and Mr. and Miss Byars to Dieppe. It had been his first
+introduction to the vicar and his daughter.
+
+"So that is really France, Mr. Spence!" said Helena; "the very first
+view of a foreign country I've ever had. I don't suppose you've an idea
+of what I'm feeling now? It seems so wonderful, something I've been
+waiting for all my life."
+
+Spence smiled kindly, irradiating his face with good humour as he did
+so.
+
+"Well, _my_ sensations or emotions at present, Miss Byars, are entirely
+confined to wondering whether I am going to be seasick or not."
+
+"Don't speak of it!" said a thin voice, a voice from which all the blood
+seemed to be drained, and, turning, they saw the vicar at their elbow.
+
+His face was livid, his beard hung in lank dejection, a sincere misery
+poured from his pathetic eyes.
+
+"Basil," he said, "Basil is down in the saloon eating greasy cold
+chicken and ham and drinking pale ale! I told him it was an outrage--"
+His feelings overcame him and he staggered away towards the stern.
+
+"Poor father," said the girl. "He never could stand the sea, you know.
+But he very soon gets all right when he is on dry land again. Oh, look!
+that must be a church tower! I can see it quite distinctly, and the sun
+on the roofs of the houses!"
+
+"That is St. Jacques," said Spence, "and that dome some way to the
+right, is St. Remy. Farthest of all to the right, on the cliffs, you can
+just see the château where the garrison is."
+
+Helena gazed eagerly and became silent in her excitement. Basil, who
+came up from the saloon and joined them, the healthy colour beginning to
+glow out on his cheeks once more, watched her tenderly. There was
+something childishly sweet in her delight as the broad, tub-like boat
+kicked its way rapidly towards the quaint old foreign town.
+
+In smoky Walktown he had not often seen her thus. Life was a more sober
+thing there, and her nature was graver than that of many girls, attuned
+to her environment. But, at the beginning of this holiday time, under a
+brilliant spring sun, which she was already beginning to imagine had a
+foreign charm about it, she too was happy and in a holiday mood.
+
+Basil pulled out his new and glorious gold watch, which had replaced the
+battered old gun-metal one he usually wore. Though not a poor man, he
+was simple in all his tastes, and the new toy gave him a recurring and
+childish pleasure whenever he looked at it.
+
+"We ought to be in in about twenty minutes," he said. "Have you noticed
+that the tossing of the ship has almost stopped? The land protects us.
+How clear the town is growing! I wonder if you will remember any of your
+French, Helena? I almost wish I was like you, seeing a foreign country
+for the first time. Spence is the real _voyageur_ though. He's been all
+over the world for his paper."
+
+The vicar came up to them again, just as there was a general movement of
+the passengers towards the deck. A hooting cry from the steam whistle
+wailed over the water and the boat began to move slowly.
+
+In a few more minutes they had passed the breakwater and were gliding
+slowly past the wharves towards the landing-stage.
+
+Suddenly Helena clutched hold of Basil's arm.
+
+"O Basil," she whispered, "how beautiful--look! Guarding the harbour!"
+
+He turned and followed the direction of her glance.
+
+An enormous crucifix, more than life size, planted in the ground, rose
+from the low cliffs on the right for all entering the harbour to see.
+
+They watched the symbol in silence as the passengers chattered on every
+side and gathered up their rugs and hand-bags.
+
+Gortre slipped his arm through Helena's.
+
+The reminder was so vivid and sudden it affected them powerfully. They
+were both people of the world, living in it and enjoying the pleasures
+of life that came in their way. Gortre was not one of those narrow, and
+even ill-bred, young priests with a text for ever on his lips, a sort of
+inopportune concordance, with an unpleasant flavour of omniscience. His
+religion and Helena's was too deep and fibrous a thing for commonplaces
+about it. It did not continually effervesce within and break forth in
+minute and constant bubbles, losing all its sincerity and beauty by the
+vulgar wear and tear of a verbal trick.
+
+But it was always and for ever with him a transmuting force which
+changed his life each hour in a way of which the nominal believer has no
+conception.
+
+A letter he had once written to Helena during a holiday compressed all
+his belief, and his joy in his belief, into a few short lines. Thus had
+run the sincere and simple statement, unadorned by any effort of
+literary grace to give it point and force:--
+
+     "Day by day as your letters come I go on saying my prayers for you,
+     and with you, in fresh faith and confidence. You know that I
+     absolutely trust the Lord Jesus Christ, who is, I believe, the God
+     who made the worlds, and that I pray to Him continually, relying on
+     His promises.
+
+     "I keep on reading all sides of the question, as your father does
+     also, and while admitting all that honest criticism and sincere
+     intellectual doubt can teach me, and freely conceding that there is
+     no infallible record in the New Testament, I grow more and more
+     convinced that the Gospels and Paul's letters relate _facts_ and
+     not imaginations or hallucinations. And the more strongly my
+     intellect is convinced, so much more does my heart delight in the
+     love of God, who has given Himself for me. How magnificent is that
+     finale of St. John's Gospel! 'Thomas saith unto Him, My Lord and my
+     God.' And, then, how exquisite is the supplement about the
+     manifestation at the lake side! Imagine the skill of the literary
+     man who INVENTED that! Fancy such a man existing in A.D. 150 or
+     thereabouts! I see Mrs. Humphry Ward says 'it was a dream which the
+     old man at Ephesus related, and his disciples thought it was fact.'
+     And _she_ is a literary person!"
+
+So, as the lovers glided slowly past the high symbol of God's pain, the
+worship in their hearts found but little utterance on their lips, though
+they were deeply touched.
+
+It seemed a good omen to welcome them to France!
+
+Spence remained to look after the luggage and to see it through the
+Customs, and the three others resolved to walk to the rooms which they
+had taken in the Faubourg de la Barre on the steep hill behind the
+château.
+
+They passed over the railway line in the middle of the road, and past
+the _cafés_ which cluster round the landing-stage, into the quaint
+market-place, with the great Gothic Cathedral Church of St. Jacques upon
+one side, and the colossal statue of Duquesne surrounded by baskets of
+spring flowers in the centre.
+
+To Helena Byars that simple progress was one of unalloyed excitement and
+delight. The small and wiry soldiers in their unfamiliar uniforms; an
+officer sipping vermouth in a _café_, with spurs, sword, and helmet
+shining in the sun; two black priests, with huge furry hats--all the
+moving colour of the scene gave her new and delightful sensations.
+
+"It's all so different!" she said breathlessly. "So bright and gay. What
+is that red thing over the tobacco shop, and that little brass dish over
+the hair-dresser's? Think of Walktown or Salford, now!"
+
+The house in the Faubourg de la Barre was kept by a Madame Varnier, who
+spoke English well, and was in the habit of letting her rooms to
+English people. A late _déjeuner_ was ready for them.
+
+The omelette was a revelation to Helena, and the _rognons sautés_ filled
+her with respect for such cooking, but she was impatient, nevertheless,
+to be out and sight-seeing.
+
+The vicar was tired, and proposed to stay indoors with the _Spectator_,
+and Spence had some letters to write, so Basil and Helena went out
+alone.
+
+"The vicar and I will meet you at six," Spence said, "at the Café des
+Tribuneaux, that big place with the gabled roof in the centre of the
+town. At six the _l'heure verre_ begins, the time when everyone goes out
+for an _apéritif_, the appetiser before dinner; afterwards I'll take you
+to dine at the Pannier d'Or, a jolly little restaurant I know of, and in
+the evening we'll go to the Casino."
+
+Madame Varnier, the _patronne_, was in her kitchen sitting-room at the
+bottom of the stairs, and they looked in through the hatchway as they
+passed to tell her that they were not dining indoors.
+
+On the floor a little girl, with pale yellow hair, an engaging button of
+three, was playing with a live rabbit, plump and mouse-coloured.
+
+"How sweet!" said Helena, who was in a mood which made her ready to
+appreciate everything. "Look at the little darling with its pet. Has
+baby had the rabbit long, Madame Varnier?"
+
+The Frenchwoman smiled lavishly. "Est-elle gentille l'enfant! hein! I
+bring the lapin chez moi from the magazin yesterday. There was very good
+lapins yesterday. I buy when I can. Je trouverai ça plus prudent. He is
+for the déjeuner of mademoiselle to-morrow. I take him so,"--she caught
+up the animal and suited the action to the word,--"I press his throat
+till his mouth open, and I pour a little cognac into him. Il se meurt,
+and the flesh have a delicious flavour from the cognac!"
+
+"How perfectly horrible!" said Helena as they came out into the street
+and walked down the hill. "Fancy seeing one's lunch alive and playing
+about like that, and then killing it with brandy, too! What pigs these
+French people are!"
+
+Soon after the cool gloom of St. Remy enveloped them. Under the big dome
+they lingered for a time, walking from chapel to chapel, where nuns were
+praying. But it dulled them rather, and they had more pleasure in the
+grey and Gothic twilight of St. Jacques. Here the eye was uplifted by
+more noble lines, there was a more mediæval and romantic feeling about
+the place.
+
+"We will come here to Mass on Sunday," said Basil. "I shall not go to
+the English Church at all. I never do abroad, and the vicar agrees with
+me. You see one belongs to the Catholic Church in England. In France one
+belongs to it, too. The 'Protestant' Church, as they call it, with an
+English clergyman, is, of course, a Dissenting church here."
+
+"I see your point," said Helena, "though I don't know that I quite agree
+with it. But I have never been to a Roman Catholic church in England,
+and I want to see some of the services. 'Bowing down in the House of
+Rimmon,' Mr. Philemon would call it at Walktown."
+
+They turned down a narrow street of quiet houses, and came out on to the
+Plage. There were a good many people walking up and down the great
+promenade from the Casino to the harbour mouth. An air of fulness and
+prosperity floated round the magnificent hotels which faced the sea.
+
+It was a spring season, owing to the unusual mildness of the weather,
+and Dieppe was full of people. The Casino was opened temporarily after
+the long sleep of the winter, and a company was performing there,
+having come on from the theatre at Rouen.
+
+"What a curious change from the churches and market-place," said Helena.
+"This is tremendously smart and fashionable. How well-dressed every one
+is. Look at that red-haired woman with the furs. This is being quite in
+the world again."
+
+They began a steady walk towards the pier and lighthouse. The wind was
+fresh, though not troublesome, and at five o'clock the sun, low in the
+sky, was still bright, and could give his animation to the picture.
+
+The two young people amused themselves by speculations about the varied
+types of people who passed and repassed them. Gortre wore a suit of very
+dark grey, with a short coat and an ordinary tweed cap--his holiday
+suit, he called it--and, except for his clerical collar, there was
+little to show his calling. He was pleased, with a humorous sense of
+proprietorship, a kind of vicarious vanity, to notice the attention and
+admiration excited by the beautiful English girl at his side.
+
+Helena Byars held her own among the cosmopolitan crowd of women who
+walked on the Plage. Her beauty was Saxon, very English, and not of a
+type that is always appreciated to its full value on the Continent, but
+it shone the more from Latin contrasts, and could not escape remark.
+
+Every now and again they turned, at distances of a quarter of a mile or
+so, and during the recurrence of their beat they began to notice a
+person whom they met several times, coming and going.
+
+He was an enormously big man, broad and tall, dressed expensively and
+with care. His size alone was sufficient to mark him out of the usual,
+but his personality seemed to them no less arresting and strange.
+
+His large, smooth face was fat, the eyes small and brilliant, with
+heavy pouches under them. His whole manner was a trifle florid and
+Georgian. Basil said that he seemed to belong to the Prince Regent's
+period in some subtle way. "I can imagine him on the lawns at Brighton
+or dining in the Pavilion," he said. "What a sensual, evil face the man
+has! Of course it may mean nothing, though. The Bishop of ----, one of
+the saints of the time, whose work on the Gospels is the most wonderful
+thing ever done in the way of Christian apologetics, has a face like one
+of the grotesque devils carved on the roof of Notre Dame or Lincoln
+Cathedral. But this man seems by his face to have no soul. One can't
+feel it is there, as one does, thank God! with most people."
+
+"But what an intellect such a man must have! Look at him now. Look at
+the shape of his head. And besides, you can see it in his face, despite
+its sensuality and materialism. He must be some distinguished person. I
+seem to remember pictures of him, just lately, too, in the illustrated
+papers, only I can't get a name to them. I'm certain he's English, and
+some one of importance."
+
+The big man passed them again with a quiet and swift glance of
+appreciation for Helena. He seemed lonely. Basil and Helena realised
+that he would have welcomed a chance word of greeting, some overture of
+friendship, which is not so impossible between English people
+abroad--even in adjacent Dieppe--as in our own country.
+
+But neither of them responded to the unspoken wish they felt in the
+stranger. They were quite happy with each other, and presently they saw
+him light a cigar and turn into one of the great hotels.
+
+They discussed the man for a few minutes--he had made an odd impression
+on them by his personality--and then found that it was time for the
+rendezvous at the Café des Tribuneaux.
+
+By this time dusk was falling, and the sea moaned with a certain
+melancholy. But the town began to be brilliant with electric lights, and
+the florid Moorish building of the Casino was jewelled everywhere.
+
+They turned away to the left, leaving the sea behind them, and, passing
+through a narrow street by the Government tobacco factory, came into the
+town again, and, after a short walk, to the _café_.
+
+The place was bright and animated--lights, mirrors, and gilding, the
+stir and movement of the pavement, combined to make a novel and
+attractive picture for the English girl. The night was not cold, and
+they sat under the awning at a little round table watching the merry
+groups with interest. In a few minutes after their arrival they saw
+Spence and the vicar, now quite restored and well, coming towards them.
+They had forborne to order anything before the arrival of their
+companions.
+
+The journalist took them under his wing at once. It amused him to be a
+cicerone to help them to a feeling of being at home. Gortre and Mr.
+Byars had been in Switzerland, and the latter at Rome on one occasion,
+but under the wing of a bishop's son who made his livelihood out of
+personally conducting parties to Continental towns of interest for a
+fixed fee. There was little freedom in these cut-and-dried tours, with
+their lectures _en route_ and the very dinners in the hotel ordered for
+the tourists, and everything so arranged that they need not speak a word
+of any foreign language.
+
+For the vicar, Spence prescribed a _vermouth sec_; Gortre, a courtesy
+invalid, was given a minute glass of an amber-coloured liquid with
+quinine in it--"_Dubonnet_" Spence called it; and Helena had a _sirop_
+of _menthe_.
+
+They were all very happy together in the simple-minded, almost childish,
+way of quiet, intellectual people. Their enjoyment of the novel
+liqueurs, in a small _café_ at tourist-haunted Dieppe, was as great as
+that of any sybarite at the Hotel Ritz in Paris, or at a rare dinner at
+Ciro's in Monte Carlo.
+
+Spence ordered an absinthe for himself.
+
+The vicar seemed slightly perturbed. "Isn't that stuff rather dangerous,
+Spence?" he said, shrinking a little from the glass when the waiter
+brought it. "I've heard terrible things of it."
+
+"Oh, I know," said the journalist, laughing, "people call it the French
+national vice and write tirades against it. Of course if it becomes a
+regular habit it is dangerous, and excess in absinthe is worse than most
+things. But one glass taken now and again is a wonderful stomachic and
+positively beneficial. I take one, perhaps, five times in a year and
+like it. But, like all good things, it is terribly abused both by the
+people who use it and those who don't."
+
+Suddenly Helena turned to Gortre.
+
+"Oh, look, Basil!" she said. "There is our friend of the Plage--Quinbus
+Flestrin, the mountain of flesh, you remember your Swift?"
+
+The big stranger, now in evening dress and a heavy fur coat, had just
+come into the _café_ and was sitting there with a cigarette and a Paris
+paper. He seemed lost in some sort of anxious speculation--at least so
+it seemed by the drooping of the journal in his massive fingers and the
+set expression of abstraction which lingered in his eyes and spread a
+veil over his countenance.
+
+They had all turned at Helena's exclamation and looked towards the other
+side of the _café_, where the man was sitting.
+
+"Why, that's Sir Robert Llwellyn," said Spence.
+
+The vicar looked up eagerly. "The great authority on the antiquities of
+the Holy Land?" he said.
+
+"Yes, that's the man. They knighted him the other day. He's supposed to
+be the greatest living authority, you know."
+
+"Do you know him, then?" asked the vicar.
+
+"Oh, yes," said Spence, carelessly. "One knows every one in my trade. I
+have to. I've often gone to him for information when anything very
+special has been discovered. And I've met him in clubs and at lectures
+or at first nights at the theatre. He is a great play-goer."
+
+"A decent sort of man?" said Gortre in a tone which certainly implied a
+doubt.
+
+Spence hesitated a moment. "Oh, well, I suppose so," he said carelessly.
+"There are tales about his private life, but probably quite untrue. He's
+a man of the world as well as a great scholar, and I suppose the rather
+unusual combination makes people talk. But he is right up at the top of
+the tree,--goes everywhere; and he's just been knighted for his work.
+I'll go over and speak to him."
+
+"If he'll come over," said the vicar, his eyes alight with anticipation
+and the hope of a talk with this famous expert on the subjects nearest
+his own heart, "bring him, _please_. There is nothing I should like
+better than a chat with him. I know his _Modern Discoveries and Holy
+Writ_ almost by heart."
+
+They watched Spence go across to Sir Robert's table. The big man started
+as he was spoken to, looked up in surprise, then smiled with pleasure,
+and extended a welcoming hand. Spence sat down beside him and they were
+soon in the middle of a brisk conversation.
+
+"The poor man looked very bored until Mr. Spence spoke to him," said
+Helena. "Father, I'm sure you'll have your wish. He seems glad to have
+some one to talk to."
+
+She was right. After a minute or two the journalist returned with
+Llwellyn, and the five of them were soon in a full flood of talk.
+
+"I was going to dine alone at my hotel," said the Professor, at length;
+"but Spence says that he knows of a decent restaurant here. I wonder if
+you would let me be one of your party? I'm quite alone in Dieppe for a
+couple of days. I'm waiting for a friend with whom I am going to
+travel."
+
+"Oh, do come, Sir Robert," said the vicar, with manifest pleasure. "Are
+you going to be away from England for long?"
+
+"I have leave from the British Museum for a year," said the Professor.
+"My doctor says that I require absolute rest. I am _en route_ for
+Marseilles and from there to Alexandria."
+
+The Pannier d'Or proved a pleasant little place, and the dinner was
+excellent. The Professor surprised and then amused the others by his
+criticism of the viands. He made the dinner his especial business, sent
+for the cook and had a serious conversation with him, chose the wines
+with extreme care.
+
+His knowledge of the culinary art was enormous, and he treated it with a
+kind of reverence, addressing himself more particularly to Helena.
+
+"Yes, Miss Byars, you must be _most_ careful in the preparation of
+really good crayfish soup. This is excellent. The great secret is to
+flavour with a little lobster spawn and to mix the crumb of a French
+roll with the stock--white stock of course--before you add the powdered
+shells and anchovies."
+
+Many times, despite his impatience to get to deeper and more congenial
+subjects, the vicar smiled at the purring of this gourmet, who seemed to
+prefer a sauce to an inscription and rissoles to research.
+
+But with the special coffee--covered with fine yellow foam and
+sweetened with crystals of amber sugar--the vicar's hour came. Sir
+Robert realised that it was inevitable and with a half sigh gave the
+required opening.
+
+Once started, his manner changed utterly. The mask of materialism peeled
+away from his face, which became younger, brighter, as thought animated
+it, and new, finer lines cames out upon it as knowledge poured from him.
+
+The conversation threatened to be a long one. Spence saw that and
+proposed to go on to the Casino with Helena, leaving the two clergymen
+with Llwellyn. It was when they had gone that the trio settled down
+completely.
+
+It resolved itself at first into a duologue between the two elder men.
+Gortre's knowledge was too general and superficial on these purely
+antiquarian matters to allow him to take much part in it. He sat sipping
+his coffee and listening with keen attention and great enjoyment to this
+talk of experts. He had not liked Llwellyn from the first and could not
+do so even now, but he was forced to recognise the enormous intellectual
+activity and power of the big, purring creature before him.
+
+Step by step the two archæologists went over the new discoveries being
+made in the ground between the City Wall of Jerusalem and the Hill of
+"Jeremiah's Grotto." They talked of the blue and purple mosaics found on
+the Mount of Olives, of all that had been done by the English and German
+excavators during the past years.
+
+Gradually the discussion became more intimate and began to touch on
+great issues.
+
+Mr. Byars was in a state of extraordinary interest. His knowledge was
+wide, and Llwellyn early realised this, speaking to him as an equal,
+but beside the Professor's all-embracing achievements it was as nothing.
+The clergyman learnt something fresh, some sudden illuminating point of
+view, some irradiating fact, at every moment.
+
+"I suppose," Mr. Byars said at length, "that the true situation of the
+Holy Sepulchre is still a matter of considerable doubt, Professor. Your
+view would interest me extremely."
+
+"My view," said Llwellyn, with remarkable earnestness and with an
+emphasis which left no doubt about his convictions, "is that the
+Sepulchre has not yet been located."
+
+"And your view is authoritative of course," said Mr. Byars.
+
+The Professor bowed.
+
+"That is as it may be," he said, "but I have no doubt upon the subject.
+The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is quite out of the question. There is
+really no historical evidence for it beyond a foolish dream of the
+Empress Helena, in A.D. 326. The people who _know_ dismiss the
+traditional site at once. Of course it is _generally_ believed, but one
+cannot expect the world at large to be cognisant of the doings of the
+authorities. Canon MacColl has said that the traditional site is the
+real one, and as his name has never been out of the public eye since
+what were called 'The Bulgarian Atrocities,' they are content to follow
+his lead. Then there is the question of the second site, in which a
+great many people believe they have found the true Golgotha and
+Sepulchre. 'The Gordon Tomb,' as it has been called, excited a great
+deal of attention at the time of its discovery. You may remember that I
+went to Jerusalem on behalf of the _Times_ to investigate the matter.
+You may recollect that I proved beyond dispute that the tomb was not
+Jewish at all, but indubitably Christian and long subsequent to the time
+of Christ. As a matter of fact, when the tomb was excavated in 1873 it
+was full of human bones and the mould of decomposed bodies, and there
+were two red-painted crosses on the walls. The tomb was close to a large
+Crusading hospice, and I have no doubt that it was used for the burial
+of pilgrims. Besides, my excavations proved that the second "city wall"
+must have _included_ the new site, so that the Gospel narrative at once
+demolishes the new theory. I embodied twenty-seven other minor proofs in
+my letters to the _Times_ also. No, Mr. Byars, my conviction is that we
+are not yet able to locate in any way the position of Golgotha and the
+Holy Tomb."
+
+"You think that is to come?" asked Gortre.
+
+"_I feel certain_," answered the Professor, with great deliberation and
+meaning--"_I feel certain that we are on the eve of stupendous
+discoveries in this direction_."
+
+His tones were so impressive and so charged with import that the two
+clergymen looked quickly at each other. It seemed obvious that Llwellyn
+was aware of some impending discoveries. He must, they knew, be in
+constant touch with all that was being done in Palestine. Curiously
+enough, his words gave each of them a certain sense of chill, of
+uneasiness. There seemed to be something behind them, something of
+sinister suggestion, which they could not divine or formulate, but
+merely felt as an action upon the nerves.
+
+It was a rare experience to sit with the greatest living authority upon
+a subject, and hear his views--views which it would be folly not to
+accept. His knowledge was so sure and so profound, a sense of power
+flowed from him.
+
+But though both men felt a dim premonition of what his words might
+possibly convey, neither could bring himself to a deliberate question.
+Nor did Llwellyn appear to invite it. During the whole of their talk he
+had sedulously avoided any religious questions. He had dealt solely with
+historical aspects.
+
+His position in the religious world was singular. His knowledge of
+Biblical history was one of its assets, but he was not known definitely
+as a believer.
+
+His attitude had always been absolutely non-committal. He did the work
+he had to do without taking sides.
+
+It had become generally understood that no definite statement of his own
+personal convictions was to be asked or expected from him.
+
+The general consensus of opinion was that Sir Robert Llwellyn was _not_
+a believer in the divinity of Christ; but it was merely an opinion, and
+had never been confirmed by him.
+
+There was rather a tense silence for a short time.
+
+The Professor broke it.
+
+"Let me show you," he said, taking a gold pencil-case from his pocket,
+"a little map which I published at the time of the agitation about
+Gordon's Tomb. I can trace the course of the city walls for you."
+
+He felt in his pocket for some paper on which to make the drawing, and
+took out a letter.
+
+Gortre and the vicar drew their chairs closer.
+
+Suddenly a curious pain shot through Basil's head and all his pulses
+throbbed violently. He experienced a terribly familiar sensation--the
+sick fear and repulsion of the night before his illness in the great
+library. The aroma of some utterly evil and abominable personality
+seemed to come into his brain.
+
+For, as he had looked down at the paper on which the great white fingers
+were now tracing thin lines, he had seen, before Llwellyn turned it
+over, a firm, plain signature, thus:
+
+          Constantine Schuabe
+
+With some excuse about the heat of the room, he left it and went out
+into the night.
+
+His brain was busy with terrible intuitive forebodings, he seemed to be
+caught up in the fringe of some great net, the phantoms of his illness
+came round him once more, the dark air was thick with their
+wings--vague, and because of that more hideous.
+
+He passed the lighted _kiosk_ at the Casino entrance with a white, set
+face.
+
+He was going home to pray.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+INAUGURATION
+
+
+It was at Victoria Station that Basil said good-bye to Helena. Spence
+had been back again in London for a fortnight. Mr. Byars and his
+daughter were to go straight back to Manchester the same day, and Gortre
+was to take possession of his new quarters in Lincoln's Inn and enter on
+his duties at St. Mary's without delay.
+
+It had been a pleasant holiday, they all agreed, as the train brought
+them up from Newhaven; how pleasant they had hardly realised till it was
+all over. They had been all brought more intimately together than ever
+before. Gortre had come to know Mr. Byars with far more completeness
+than had been possible during their busy parochial life at Walktown. The
+elder man's calm and steadfast belief, his wide knowledge and culture,
+the Christian _sanity_ of his life, were never more manifest than in the
+uninterrupted communion of this time of rest and pleasure.
+
+He saw in his future father-in-law such a man as he himself humbly hoped
+that he might become. The impulsiveness of an eager youth had toned down
+into the mature judgment of middle age. The enthusiasms of life's
+springtime had solidified into quiet strength and force, and faith and
+intellect had combined into a deep and immovable conviction. And Mr.
+Byars's was no simple, childlike nature to whom goodness and belief were
+easy, a natural attribute of the man. He was subtle rather, complex,
+and the victory over himself had cost him more than it costs most men.
+So much Gortre realised, and his love and admiration for the vicar were
+tempered with that joyous awe that one fine nature is privileged to feel
+at the contact with another.
+
+To Helena also this time of holiday had been very precious. To mark the
+fervour of her chosen one, the energy he threw into Life, Love, and
+Religion, to find him a _man_ and yet a priest, to follow him in thought
+to the ivory gates of his Ideals--these were her uplifting occupations;
+and to all these as they walked and talked, listened to the music at the
+Casino, explored the ancient forest and castle at Arques, or knelt with
+bowed heads as the sacring bell rang and the priests moved about the
+altar--these had been the united bond of the great knowledge and hope
+they shared together.
+
+After the farewells had been said in the noisy station, and Basil's cab
+drove him rapidly towards his new home, he felt wonderfully ready and
+prepared for his new work.
+
+The moving panorama of Victoria Street, the sudden stately vision of
+Palace Yard, the grandeur of the Embankment--all spoke to the young man
+of a vivid, many-coloured, and pulsating life which was waiting for him
+and his activities. Here, indeed, was a fine battlefield and theatre for
+the Holy War.
+
+The cab moved slowly up Chancery Lane and then turned into the sudden
+quiet of Lincoln's Inn. It was almost like going back to Oxford, he
+thought, with a quick glow of pleasure to see himself surrounded by
+mellow, ancient buildings once more.
+
+All his heavy personal effects had been sent up from Walktown some days
+before, and when he had carried up his two portmanteaus he knocked at
+the "oak" or outside door of the chambers, which was shut, and waited
+for a response. He saw that his name was freshly painted on the lintel
+of the door under the two others:
+
+          +---------------------------------------+
+          |                                       |
+          |         MR. HAROLD M. SPENCE.         |
+          |                                       |
+          |           MR. CYRIL HANDS.            |
+          |                                       |
+          |          REV. BASIL GORTRE.           |
+          |                                       |
+          +---------------------------------------+
+
+
+In a minute he heard footsteps. The inner door was opened and he saw a
+tall, thin man, bearded and brown, peering at him through spectacles.
+
+"Ah! Gortre, I suppose," said the other. "We were expecting you. I'm
+Hands, you know, home for another month yet. Give me these bags. Come
+in, come in."
+
+He followed the big, stooping fellow with a sense of well-being at the
+cheery bohemianism of his greeting.
+
+He found himself in a very large room indeed, panelled from floor to
+ceiling, the woodwork painted a sage green. Three great windows, each
+with a cushioned seat in its recess, looked down into the quadrangle
+below. Curtained doors faced him on all sides of the room, which was
+oddly shaped and full of nooks and angles. Books and newspapers covered
+two or three writing-tables and were piled on shelves between the doors.
+A bright fire burned in a large grate and the mantel above was covered
+with Oxford photographs, pipes, and tobacco jars. There was a note of
+comfort everywhere, of luxurious comfort though not of luxury. The
+furniture was not new and it bore the signs of long use no less than
+careful choice. Bohemia it was, but not a squalid Bohemia. If a room can
+have a personality, this was a _gentlemanly_ room. One saw that
+gentlemen lived here, men who, without daintiness or a tinge of the
+sybarite, yet liked a certain order and fitness around them. At once
+Basil felt in key with the place. There was no jarring note anywhere.
+
+"I've got you a sort of meal, Gortre," said Hands, pleasantly, "though
+we were rather in doubt as to what a man could want at four o'clock in
+the afternoon! Spence suggested afternoon tea, as you'll be wanting to
+dine later on. But Mrs. Buscall, our laundress, suggested cold beef and
+Bass's beer--after a sea voyage which she regards as a sort of Columbus
+adventure. So fall to--here you are. Harold is just getting up."
+
+Indeed, as he spoke there came a noise of vigorous splashing from behind
+one of the closed doors and Spence's voice bellowed out a greeting.
+
+Basil looked puzzled for a moment and Hands laughed as he saw it.
+
+"You must remember that Spence doesn't get back from the office till
+three in the morning," he said. "He's writing four leaders a week now,
+and on his late nights, when he comes back, his brain is too alert and
+excited to sleep, so he has some Bovril and just works away at other
+stuff till morning. He won't interfere with us, though. I never hear him
+come in, nor will you. These chambers are a regular rabbit warren for
+size and ramification."
+
+Basil went into the bedroom he was to have, a spacious, clean, and
+simply furnished place, and when he came out again for his meal found
+Spence, in a loose suit of flannels, smoking a cigarette. The journalist
+joined him at the table.
+
+In a very short time Gortre felt thoroughly at home. He knew by a kind
+of instinct that he should be happy in Lincoln's Inn. Hands had still a
+month to spend in London before he went back to Palestine to continue
+his work for the Exploring Society, and he looked forward to many
+interesting talks with him, the actual agent and superintendent of the
+work at Jerusalem, the trained eye and arm of the great and influential
+English Society.
+
+And as for Spence, he had known him intimately ever since his first
+Oxford days, many years ago now. Harold Spence was like a brother to
+him--had always been that.
+
+The first hour's conversation, desultory as it was, in a sense, showed
+him how full and varied his new life promised to be. After the noisy
+seclusion of Walktown he felt that he was now in the centre of things.
+Both Spence and Hands were thoroughly cultured men, and both were
+distinguished above the crowd in their respective spheres.
+
+Basil heard keen, critical, "inside" talk for almost the first time. His
+two companions knew everybody, were at the hub of things. Two nights ago
+Spence had been talking to the Prime Minister for ten minutes.--_The
+Daily Wire_ was the unofficial Government organ. Hands had been at
+Lambeth with the Archbishop, the president and patron of the Palestine
+Society. They were absolute types of the keen, vigorous, and _young_
+mental aristocracy which is always on the active service of English
+life. They belonged to the executive branch.
+
+"I'm sorry, Basil," Spence said suddenly, "I've got a note for you from
+Father Ripon. I forgot to give it to you. He sent it down by a special
+messenger this morning. Here it is."
+
+Father Ripon was the vicar of St. Mary's, Gortre's new chief.
+
+He took the note and opened it, reading as follows:
+
+     "THE CLERGY HOUSE,
+     "ST MARY'S, BLOOMSBURY.
+
+     "DEAR MR. GORTRE,--Friend Spence says that you will arrive in
+     London this afternoon. I don't believe in wasting time and I want a
+     good long talk with you before you begin your work with us.
+     To-night I am due at Bethnal Green to give a lecture. I shall be
+     driving home about ten and I'll call at Lincoln's Inn on my way. If
+     this will not be too late for you, we can then talk matters
+     over.--Sincerely yours in Christ,    ARTHUR RIPON."
+
+Basil passed the note to Spence.
+
+"That'll be all right," he said. "I shall be at work, and Hands will be
+in his own room. What a man Ripon is! He's just the incarnation of
+breezy energy. Brusque, unconventional as Dr. Parker himself, but one of
+the sincerest Christians and best men I ever met or ever shall meet. He
+signs his note like that because he means it. He hates cant, and what in
+some men would appear cant, or at least a rather unnecessary form of
+ending, is to him just an ordinary every-day fact. You will get on with
+Father Ripon, Basil, I'm sure. You'll get to love the man as we all do.
+I never knew any one so absolutely joyous as he is. He's about the
+happiest man in town, I should say. His private income is nearly two
+thousand a year, and his living's worth something too, and yet I don't
+suppose his own expenses are fifty pounds. He lives more or less on
+porridge--when he remembers to eat at all--and his only extravagance is
+hansom cabs, so that he can cram more work into the day."
+
+They all laughed, and Spence began to tell anecdotes of the famous
+"ritualistic" parson who daily filled more stomachs, saved more souls,
+and shocked more narrow-minded people than any two men in Crockford.
+
+At seven o'clock they all went out together--Spence to his adjacent
+office in Fleet Street, the other two to dine quietly at the University
+Club.
+
+"London depresses me," said Hands, when they were seated on the top of
+an omnibus and rolling westward through the Strand. "I am afraid that I
+shall never be in love with London any more. I always dislike my
+vacations, or rather my business visits to town. It's necessary that I
+attend the annual meeting of the Society and see people in authority,
+and I have to give a few lectures too. But I hate it all the same. I
+love the simple life of the East, the sun, the deep blue shadows, my
+silent Arabs. I know of no more beautiful sight than the Holy City--why
+do they call Rome the 'Holy City'? Jerusalem is the Holy City--when the
+hills are covered with the January snows. It is a wonderful, immemorial
+land, Gortre, a silent, beautiful country. Just before I came over here
+I spent a fortnight working at some inscriptions in a very ancient Latin
+monastery. I never knew such peace. The monks are all sad-faced,
+courteous Syrians, and they move along the rock balconies like benignant
+ghosts. And then one comes back and is plunged into this!"
+
+He threw out his hand over the side of the omnibus with a note of
+disgust in his rather dreamy voice. The Strand was all brilliantly lit
+and waiting crowds stood by all the theatre doors. Men and women passed
+in and out of the bright orange light of bars and restaurants, and small
+filthy boys stabbed the deep roar of the traffic with their shrill
+voices as they called out the evening papers.
+
+They dined quietly and simply at the big warm club in Piccadilly. Hands
+did most of the talking and Gortre was content to listen to the pleasant
+monotony of the low, level voice and to fall under the man's peculiar
+spell or charm--a charm that he always exercised upon another artistic
+temperament.
+
+Hands was a poet by nature and sentiment. His strange, lonely life among
+the evidences of the past under the Eastern sky had toned, mellowed,
+and orientalised his vision.
+
+As he listened Gortre also began to feel something of the mystery and
+magic influence of that country of God's birth.
+
+It was half-past nine when they got back to the chambers again. Hands
+went at once to his own room to work and Basil sat down in front of a
+red, glowing fire, gazing into the hot caverns, lost in reverie. It was
+as though he had taken some opiate and there was nothing better in life
+than to sit thus and dream in the warm silence of the firelit room.
+
+A few minutes after ten he was suddenly called out of the clouds by a
+furious knocking at the door of the chambers.
+
+The sound cut into his dreams like a knife.
+
+He went to open the door, and Father Ripon, his new vicar, came in like
+a whirlwind. His voluminous black cloak brought cold air in its folds;
+his breezy, genial personality was so actual a fact, struck such a
+strident, material note, that dreams and reverie fled before it.
+
+Gortre turned up the gas-jets and flooded the room with light.
+
+Father Ripon was a tall, well-made man, too active to be portly, but
+with hints of a tendency towards plumpness, which was never allowed to
+ripen. His iron-grey hair was cropped close to his large, well-shaped
+head. The shrewd, merry eyes, of a rare red-hazel colour, were shaded by
+heavy grey brows, which gave them a singular directness and penetration.
+The nose was aquiline, the lips thin, though the mouth was large, and
+the chin massive and somewhat protruding. The mobile face, lined and
+seamed by the strenuous life of its owner, was very seldom in repose. It
+glowed and flashed continually with changing expression. On those
+occasions when the play of feature sank to rest for a moment, at the
+giving of a benediction or the saying of a solemn prayer in church, a
+nobility and asceticism transformed the face into something saintly. But
+in the ordinary business of life the large humanity of the man gave him
+a readier title to the hearts of his people than their knowledge of the
+underlying saintliness of his character.
+
+"Whisky?" he said, as Gortre asked him to take some. "No, thanks.
+Teetotaler for sake of example, always have been--and don't like the
+stuff either, never did. But I'll have some coffee and some bread and
+butter, if you've got it, and some of those oranges I see there. Forgot
+to lunch and had no time to dine!"
+
+He began ravenously upon the oranges and with little further preamble
+plunged at once into the business of the parish. To emphasise a point,
+he flung a piece of orange peel savagely into the fire now and again.
+
+"Our congregation," he said, "is peculiar to the church. You'll realise
+that when you get among them. I don't suppose in the whole of London
+there is a more difficult class of people to reach than our own. In the
+first place, it's a _young_ congregation, speaking generally. 'Good,'
+you'll say; 'ductible material, plenty of enthusiasm to work on.' Not a
+bit of it. Most of the men are engaged in the City as clerks upon a
+small wage. They are mentally rather "small" men. Their lives are hard
+and monotonous, their outlook upon life petty and vulgar. The lowest and
+the highest classes are far easier to get at because they are
+temperamentally more alike. The anarchists have some right on their side
+when they condemn the _bourgeoisie_! It's difficult to show a small
+brain a big thing. _Our_ difficulty is to explain the stupendous truths
+of Christianity to flabby and inert, machine-like fellows. When we _do_
+get hold of them, the very monotony of their lives makes religion a
+more valuable thing to them. But the temptations of this class are
+terribly strong, living alone in lodgings as they do. The cheap
+music-hall and bar attract them; dissipation forms their society. Their
+views of women are taken from their association with the girls of the
+streets and the theatres. As they have no settled place in society, they
+are horribly afraid of ridicule. They are a far more difficult lot than
+their colleagues who live in the suburbs and have chances for healthier
+recreations.
+
+"Then much of our work lies among women who seem irretrievably lost,
+and, I fear, very often are so. The Bloomsbury district is honeycombed
+with well-conducted dens of impurity. The women of a certain class have
+fixed upon the parish as their home. I don't mean the starving
+prostitute that one meets in the East End, I mean the fairly prosperous,
+utterly vicious, lazy women. You will meet with horrors of vice, a
+marvellous and stony indifference, in the course of your work. To reach
+some of these well-dressed, well-fed, well-housed girls, to show them
+the spiritual and even the economic and material end of their lives,
+requires almost superhuman powers. If an angel came some of them would
+not believe. And in the great and luxurious buildings of flats which
+have sprung up in all the squares, the well-known London
+_demi-mondaines_--people who dance upon the stage and whose pictures
+glare upon one from every hoarding--have made their homes and constantly
+parade before the eyes of others the wealth which is the reward of lust.
+
+"This is a wicked part of London, Gortre. And yet, day by day, in our
+beautiful church, where the Eucharist is celebrated and prayers go up
+unceasingly, we have evidences that our work is acceptable and that the
+Power is with us. Magdalen still comes with her jewels and her tears of
+repentance. I ask and beg of you to remember certain things--keep them
+always before your eyes--during your ministry among us. Whenever a man
+or woman comes to you, either at confession or otherwise, and tells of
+incredible sins, welcome the very slightest movement towards the light.
+Cultivate an all-embracing sympathy. I firmly believe that more souls
+have been lost by a repellent manner on the part of a priest, or an
+apparent lack of understanding, than any one has any idea of. Remember
+that when a thoroughly evil and warped nature has made a great effort
+and laid its spiritual case before a priest, it expects in its inner
+consciousness a pat on the back for its new efforts. It wants
+commendation. One _must_ fight warily, with a thorough psychological
+knowledge, with a broad humanity. To take even the slightest signs of
+repentance as a matter of course, to throw any doubt upon its reality or
+permanence, is to accept an awful responsibility. Err rather on the side
+of sentiment. Who are we to judge?"
+
+Gortre had listened with deep attention to Father Ripon's earnest words.
+He began to realise more clearly the difficulties of his new life. And
+yet the obstacles did not daunt him. They seemed rather a trumpet note
+for battle. Ripon's enthusiasm was contagious; he felt the exhilaration
+of the tried soldier at a coming contest.
+
+"One more thing," said the vicar. "In all your teaching and preaching
+hammer away at the great central fact of the Incarnation. No system of
+morals will reach these people--however plausible, however pure--unless
+you constantly bring the supernatural side of religion before them.
+Preach the Incarnation day in, day out. Don't, like so many men, regard
+it as an accepted fact merely, using it as a postulate on which to found
+a scheme of conduct. Once get the central truth of all into the hearts
+of a congregation, and then all else will follow. Now, good-night. I've
+kept you late, but I wished to have a talk with you. A good deal will
+devolve upon you. I have especially arranged that you should not live in
+the Clergy House with Stokes, Carr, and myself. I would rather that your
+environment should be more secular. Stokes and Carr are perhaps a little
+too priestly, too "professional" in manner, if you understand what I am
+driving at. Keep yourself from that. If you go among the young men, see
+them at home, smoke with them, and take what they offer you in the way
+of refreshment. Well, good-bye. You are to preach at Sunday Evensongs
+you know. Sir Michael Manichoe, our patron, will be there, and there
+will be a large congregation."
+
+He turned, said good-night with sudden abruptness, as if he had been
+lingering too long and was displeased with himself, and hurried away. It
+was his usual manner of farewell.
+
+A few minutes afterwards Gortre went to bed. He found it difficult to
+believe that he had walked down the Faubourg de la Barre that morning.
+It had been a crowded day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE RESURRECTION SERMON
+
+
+Sir Michael Manichoe was the great help and standby of St. Mary's. His
+father had been a wealthy banker in Rome, and a Jew. The son, who had
+enormously increased his inherited wealth, was an early convert to
+Christianity during his Oxford days in England. He was the Conservative
+member for a division in Lincolnshire, where his great country house was
+situated, and had become a pillar of the Church and State in England. In
+the House of Commons he presented the somewhat curious spectacle of a
+Jew by birth leading the moderate "Catholic" party. He was the great
+antagonist of Constantine Schuabe, and with equal wealth and position,
+though Schuabe was by far the more brilliant of the two men, he devoted
+all his energies to the opposition of the secular and agnostic
+influences of his political rival.
+
+Every Sunday during the session, when he was in London, Sir Michael
+drove to St. Mary's for both morning and evening service. He was church
+warden, and intimately concerned in all the parochial business, while
+his purse was always open at Father Ripon's request.
+
+Gortre had been introduced to Sir Michael during the week, and he knew
+the great man purposed attending to hear his first sermon at St. Mary's
+on the Sunday evening.
+
+He prepared his discourse with extreme care. A natural wish to make a
+good first impression animated him; but, as he sat late on the Saturday
+night, finally arranging his notes, he began to be conscious of new and
+surprising thoughts about the coming event. Earlier in the evening he
+had been talking to Hands, but the archæologist had gone to bed and left
+him alone.
+
+The day had been a gloomy one. A black pall of fog fell over London at
+dawn, and had remained all day, almost choking him as he said evensong
+in the almost empty church.
+
+All day long he had felt strangely overweighted and depressed. A chance
+paragraph in an evening paper, stating that Mr. Schuabe, M.P., had
+returned from a short Continental trip, started an uneasy and gloomy
+train of thought. The memory of the terrible night at Walktown recurred
+to him with a horrible sense of unreality, the picture blurred somewhat,
+as if the fingers of the disease which had struck him down had already
+been pressing on his brain when he had been alone with the millionaire.
+Much of what he remembered of that dread interview must have been
+delusion. And yet in all other matters he was sane and unprejudiced
+enough. Many times he had met and argued with unbelievers. They had
+saddened him, but no more. Why was it that this man, notorious atheist
+as he was, filled him with a shuddering fear, a horror for which he had
+no name?
+
+Then also, what had been the significance of the incident at Dieppe--its
+true significance? Sir Robert Llwellyn had also inspired him with a
+feeling of utter loathing and abhorrence, though perhaps in a less
+degree. There was the sudden glimpse of Schuabe's signature on the
+letter. What was the connection between the two men? How could the
+Antichristian be in friendly communion with the greatest Higher Critic
+of the time?
+
+He recalled an even more sinister occurrence, or so it had seemed to
+him. Two days after his first introduction to Llwellyn and the dinner
+at the Pannier d'Or he had seen him enter the Paris train _with Schuabe_
+himself, who had just arrived from England. He had said nothing of the
+incident to Mr. Byars or Helena. They would have regarded it as ordinary
+enough. They knew nothing of what had passed between him and Schuabe.
+The deliberate words of Sir Robert at the restaurant recurred to him
+again and again, taking possession of his brain and ousting all other
+thoughts. What new discoveries was the Professor hinting at?
+
+What did the whole obsession of his brain mean?
+
+Curiously enough, he felt certain that these thoughts were in no way
+heralds of a new attack of brain fever. He knew this for a certainty. It
+seemed as if the persistent whisperings within him were rather the
+results of some spiritual message, as if the unseen agency which
+prompted them had some definite end and purpose in view.
+
+The more he prayed the stronger his premonitions became; added force was
+given to them, as if they were the direct causes of his supplications.
+
+It almost seemed that God was speaking to him.
+
+He had questioned Hands cautiously, trying to learn if any new and
+important facts bearing upon Biblical history were indeed likely to be
+discovered in the near future.
+
+But the answer did not amount to very much. The new and extensive
+excavations, under the permission of the lately granted firman from the
+Turkish Government, were only just beginning. The real work was to
+commence when Hands had finished his work in London and had returned to
+take charge of the operations.
+
+Of course, Hands had said there were possibilities of discovery of
+first-class importance, but he doubted it. The locality of Golgotha and
+the Holy Sepulchre was already established, in Hands's opinion. He had
+but little doubt of the authenticity of the established sites.
+Llwellyn's theories he scouted altogether, while agreeing with him in
+his negation of the Gordon Tomb.
+
+So there had been very little from Hands that was in any way
+satisfactory to Basil.
+
+But as he sat in the great silence of the night and read over the heads
+of the sermon a great sense of comfort came to him. He felt a mysterious
+sense of power, not merely because he knew the work was good, but
+something beyond that. He was conscious that for some reason or other
+that particular sermon which he was about to preach was one on which
+much depended. He could not say how or why he knew the thing was fraught
+with destiny to himself or others. He only knew it.
+
+Many years afterwards he remembered that quiet night, and the help which
+seemed to come to him suddenly, a renewed hope and confidence after the
+mental misery of the day.
+
+When he looked back on the terrible and stupendous events in which he
+had played so prominent a part, he was able to see clearly the chain of
+events, and to place his experience about what he always afterwards
+called his "Resurrection sermon" in their proper sequence.
+
+Looking back through the years, he saw that a more than mortal power was
+guiding him towards the fulfilment of a Divine purpose.
+
+But that night as he said his prayers before going to sleep he only felt
+a sweet security as he glanced at the MS. on the chair by his bedside.
+
+The future was not yet revealed to him. God spared him the torture of
+foreknowledge.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The pulpit was high above the heads of the people, much higher than is
+usual, a box of stone set in the great arch of the chancel.
+
+As Gortre stood for a moment, after the prayer, he kissed the stole and
+placed it, as a yoke, upon his shoulders. He looked down the great
+building and saw the hundreds of watchful, expectant faces, with an
+uplifting sense of power. He felt as if he were a mouthpiece of strange,
+unseen forces. The air seemed full of wings.
+
+For a moment the preacher paused and sent a keen glance over the
+congregation below. He saw Sir Michael Manichoe, dark, aquiline,
+Semitic, sitting in his front pew. A few seats behind him, with a sudden
+throb of surprise but nothing else, the calm and evil beauty of
+Constantine Schuabe's face looked up at him.
+
+The strangeness of the appearance and the shock of it had at that moment
+no menace or intimidation for him. Standing there to deliver God's
+message, in God's house, his enemy seemed to have no power to throw his
+brain into its old fear and tumult.
+
+Another face, unknown to him, arrested his attention.
+
+The sexes were not separated for worship in St. Mary's. In the same seat
+where Schuabe sat was a woman, dark, handsome, expensively dressed.
+
+She also was Jewish in appearance, though it was obvious that there was
+no connection between her and the millionaire. Her face, as the young
+clergyman's eyes rested on it for a second, seemed to be curiously
+familiar, as if he saw it every day of his life, but it nevertheless
+struck no _personal_ note.
+
+Gortre began to speak, taking for his text part of a verse from the
+Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans--"_Declared to be the Son of God with
+power, according to the spirit of holiness, by the resurrection of the
+dead._"
+
+"In this world of to-day," he began calmly, and with a certain
+deliberation and precision in his utterance, "what men in general are
+hungering after is a positive assurance of actual spiritual agency in
+the world. They crave for something to hold by which is outside
+themselves, and which cannot have grown out of the inner persuasions of
+men. They cannot understand people who tell them that, whether the
+events of the Gospels actually passed upon earth or not, they may
+fashion their own dispositions all the same, on the supposition that
+these events occurred. If I can to-night show that any appearance of the
+Risen Lord is attested in the same way as are certain facts commonly
+accepted as history, I shall have accomplished as much as I can hope."
+
+Then, very carefully, Gortre went through the scientific and historical
+evidences for the truth of the Resurrection. Gradually, as he marshalled
+his proofs and brought forth one after the other, he began, by a sort of
+unconscious hypnotism of the eye, to make the seat where Schuabe and the
+strange woman sat his objective.
+
+Many speakers have this automatic habit of addressing one or two persons
+as if they were the ear of the whole congregation. It is said that by
+such means, even if unconsciously employed, the brain becomes more
+concentrated and clearer for the work in hand.
+
+Slowly the preacher's voice became more resonant and triumphant. To many
+of the congregation the overwhelming and stupendous evidences for the
+truth of the Gospel narratives which the study of late years has
+collected was entirely new. The Higher Criticism, the fact that it is
+not only in science that "discoveries" can be made, the excavations in
+the East and the newly discovered MSS., with their variations of
+reading, the possibility that the lost Aramaic original of St. Matthew's
+Gospel may yet be discovered, were all things which came to them for
+the first time in their lives. Gortre's words began to open up to them
+an entirely new train of thought. Their interest was profoundly
+quickened.
+
+Very few clergymen of middle age are cognisant of the latest theological
+thought. Time, money, and lack of education alike prevent them. The
+slight mental endowment and very ordinary education which are all that
+is absolutely necessary for an ordination candidate, are not realised by
+the ordinary member of a church congregation. The mass of the English
+clergy to-day are content to leave such questions alone, to do their
+duty simply, to impose upon their flock the necessity of "faith," and to
+deny the right of individual judgment and speculation.
+
+They do not realise that the world of their middle age is more educated,
+and so more intelligent, than the world of their youth, and that, if the
+public intellect is nurtured by the public, those whose duty it is to
+keep it within the fold of Christianity must provide it with a food
+suited to its development.
+
+Gortre, in his sermon, had crystallised and boiled down into pregnant
+paragraphs, without circumlocution or obscurity, all the brilliant work
+of Latham, Westcott, Professor Ramsay, and Homersham Cox. He quoted
+Renan's passage from _Les Apôtres_, dealing with the finding of the
+empty tomb, and showed the flaws and fallacies in that brilliant piece
+of antichristian suggestion.
+
+As he began to bring his arguments to a close he was conscious that the
+people were with him. He could feel the brains around him thinking in
+unison; it was almost as if he _heard_ the thoughts of the congregation.
+The dark, handsome woman stared straight up at him. Trouble was in her
+eyes, an awakened consciousness, and Gortre knew that the truth was
+dropping steadily into her mind, and that conviction was unwelcome and
+alarming.
+
+And he felt also the bitter antagonism which was alive and working
+behind the impassive face and half-closed eyes of the millionaire below.
+It was a silent duel between them. He knew that his words were full of
+meaning, _even of conviction_, to the man, and yet he was subjectively
+conscious of some _reserve_ of force, some hidden sense of fearful
+power, a desperate resolve which he could not overcome.
+
+His soul wrestled in this dark, mysterious conflict as with a devil, but
+could not prevail.
+
+He finished all his argument, the last of his proofs. There was a hushed
+silence in the church.
+
+Then swiftly, with a voice which trembled with the power that was given
+him, he called them to repentance and a new life. _If_, he said, his
+words had carried conviction of the truth of Christ's resurrection, of
+His divinity, then, believing that, there was but one course open to
+them all. For to know the truth, and to believe it, and to continue in
+indifference, was to kill the soul.
+
+It was over. Father Ripon had pronounced the blessing, the great organ
+was thundering out the requiem of another Sunday, and Sir Michael was
+shaking hands warmly with Basil in the vestry.
+
+Gortre was tired and shaken by the long, nervous strain, but the evident
+pleasure of Father Ripon and Sir Michael, the knowledge that he had
+acquitted himself well, was comforting and sustaining.
+
+He walked home, down quiet Holborn, curiously dead without the traffic
+of a week day and the lights of the shop fronts, and not reanimated by
+the strolling pedestrians, young people of the lower classes from the
+East End, who thronged it.
+
+Lincoln's Inn was wonderfully soothing and quiet as his footsteps echoed
+in the old quadrangle. After a lonely, tranquil supper--Hands was at a
+dinner-party somewhere in Mayfair and Spence was at the office of _The
+Daily Wire_ preparing for Monday's paper--he wheeled a small
+writing-desk up to the fireside and began a long letter of news and
+thankfulness to Helena.
+
+He pictured the pleasant dining-room at Walktown, the Sunday night's
+supper,--an institution at the Vicarage after the labours of the busiest
+day in the week,--with a guest or two perhaps.
+
+He knew they would be thinking of him, as he of them, and pictured the
+love-light in his lady's sweet, calm eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+"NEITHER DO I CONDEMN THEE"
+
+
+Autumn came to London, a warm, lingering season. There was a hint of the
+South in the atmosphere of town. All business moved with languor; there
+was more enjoyment in life as people went and came through the streets
+under so ripe and genial a sun.
+
+Gortre had settled down to steady, regular work. At no time before had a
+routine been so pleasant to him. His days were full of work, which, hard
+as it was, came to him with far more appeal than his duties at Walktown.
+Nothing ever stagnated here, at the very hub and centre of things.
+
+The splendid energy and force of Father Ripon, the magnificent
+unconvention of his methods, animated his staff to constant and
+unflagging exertions.
+
+Gortre felt that he was suddenly "grown up," that his life before had
+been spent in futile playtime compared to the present.
+
+One central fact in St. Mary's parish held all the great organisation
+together. This was the daily services in the great church. Priests,
+deacons, sisters of mercy, school teachers, and lay helpers all drew
+their strength and inspiration from this source. The daily Eucharist,
+matins, evensong, were both a stimulus and stimulant of enormous power.
+
+Church brought the mysteries in which they lived, moved, and had their
+being into intimate relation with every circumstance of daily life.
+
+The extraordinary thing, which many of Father Ripon's staff were almost
+unable to understand, was that more people did not avail themselves of
+what they regarded--viewing the thing from a standpoint of personal
+experience--such helpful opportunities.
+
+"They are always coming to me," Father Ripon had said on one occasion,
+"and complaining that they find such a tremendous difficulty in leading
+a holy life--say that the worldly surroundings and so forth kill their
+good impulses--and yet they _won't_ come to church. People are such
+fools! My young men imagine that they can become good Christians by a
+sort of sudden magic--a low beast on Saturday night, the twentieth of
+August, and, after a nerve storm in church and a few tears in the
+vestry, a saint for evermore! And then when they get drunk or do
+something beastly the next week, they rail against the Christian Faith
+because it isn't a sort of spiritual hand cuffs! And yet if you told
+them you could manage a bank after merely experience in a shipping
+office, they would see the absurdity of that at once. Donkeys!"
+
+This with a genial smile of tenderness and compassion, for this
+Whirlwind in a Cassock loved his flock.
+
+So from the very first Basil had found his life congenial. Privately he
+blessed his good fortune in living in Lincoln's Inn with Spence. On the
+nights when the journalist was free from the office, and not otherwise
+engaged, the two men sat late with pipes and coffee, enjoying that
+vigorous communion of two keen, young, and virile brains which is one of
+the truly stimulating pleasures of life.
+
+Gortre admired Spence greatly for some of his qualities. His intellect
+was, of course, first class--his high position on the great daily paper
+guaranteed that. His reading and sympathies were wide. Moreover, the
+clergyman found a great refreshment in the fact that, in an age of
+indifference, at a time when the best intellects of younger London life
+were professedly agnostic, Harold Spence was an avowed Christian and
+Churchman. As Gortre got to know him better, when the silence and
+detachment of midnight in the old Inn broke down reticence, he realised
+with a sense of thankfulness, and sometimes of fear also, how a thorough
+belief in religion kept the writer straight and captain of his own soul.
+
+For the man was a creature of strong passions and wayward desires. He
+had not always been the clean gentleman of the present. As is so often
+the case with a refined and cultured temperament, he had a dark and ugly
+side to his nature. The coarse vices of the blood called to him long and
+often with their hollow siren voices. Evil came to him with swift
+invitation and cunning allurement. He had hinted to Basil of days of sin
+and secret shame. And now, very soberly and without any emotion, he
+clung to Christ for help.
+
+And he had conquered.
+
+This was ever a glorious fact to Basil, another miracle in those
+thousands of daily miracles which were happening all around him. But his
+fear for Harold came from his realisation of his friend's exact
+spiritual grip. Spence's Christianity was rather too _utilitarian_ for
+safety. Perhaps the deep inward conviction was weak. It seemed sometimes
+as if it were a barren, thorny thing--too much fetish, too much a return
+for benefits received, a sort of half-conscious bargain. He often prayed
+long that nothing should ever occur to shake Spence's belief; for he
+felt, if that should happen, the disaster would prove irreparable. A
+dammed river is a dangerous thing.
+
+But he kept all these thoughts locked in his heart, and never spoke of
+them to Harold.
+
+Since the evening of his first sermon he had never seen Schuabe again.
+Now and then the thought of him passed through his brain, and his mental
+sight seemed obscured for a moment, as though great wings hid the sun
+from him. But since the silent duel in the church, the curious and
+malign influence of the millionaire had waned. It was prominent no
+longer, and when it troubled him it did so without power and force. Fine
+health, the tonic of constant work, the armour of continual prayer, had
+their way and were able to banish much of what he now looked back on as
+morbidity, sinister though it had been.
+
+Nevertheless, one thing often reminded him of that night. The dark,
+Jewish-looking lady he had seen sitting in the same pew with Schuabe
+often came to church on Sunday nights when he was preaching. The bold
+and insolently beautiful face looked up at him with steady interest. The
+fierce regard had something passionate and yet wistful in it.
+
+Sometimes Basil found himself preaching almost directly to the face and
+soul of the unknown woman. There was an understanding between them. He
+knew it; he felt it most certainly.
+
+Sometimes she would remain in her seat after the mass of the
+congregation had shuffled away into the night. She did not pray, but sat
+still, with her musing eyes fixed on the huge ten-foot crucifix that
+swung down from the chancel arch.
+
+Once, as he passed the pew on the way to baptise the child of a poor
+woman of the streets--brought in furtively after the Sunday
+evensong--she made a movement as if to speak to him. He had waited in
+expectation for a moment, but she remained still, and he passed on to
+the font, with its sad cluster of outcasts, its dim gas-jets, and the
+tiny child of shame with its thin cry of distress.
+
+He was asking the tremendous question--
+
+     "_Dost thou, in the name of this child, renounce the devil and all
+     his works, the vain pomp and glory of the world, with all covetous
+     desires of the same, and the carnal desires of the flesh, so that
+     thou wilt not follow nor be led by them?_"
+
+when he saw that the unknown woman was standing by within the shadow of
+a pillar. A gleam of yellow light fell through the dark on her rich
+dress, her eye glittered behind her white veil. He thought there was a
+tear in it. But when he was saying the exhortation he saw that the tall,
+silent figure had departed.
+
+He often wondered who the woman was,--if he should ever know her.
+
+Something told him that she wanted help. Something assured him that he
+should some day give it to her.
+
+And beyond this there was an unexplained conviction within him that the
+stranger was in some way concerned and bound up in the part he was to
+play in life.
+
+Long ago he had realised that it was idle to deny the interference of
+supernatural personalities in human life. Accepting the Incarnation, he
+accepted the Communion of Saints. And he was always conscious of hidden
+powers moulding, directing him.
+
+The episode of the cigarettes happened in this way.
+
+Stokes, one of Gortre's fellow-curates, came to supper one night in
+Lincoln's Inn.
+
+Spence was there also, as it was one of his free nights.
+
+About ten o'clock supper was over and they proposed to have a little
+music. Stokes was a fine pianist, and he had brought some of the
+nocturnes and ballads of Chopin with him, to try on the little
+black-cased piano which stood at an obtuse angle with the end of the
+large sitting-room.
+
+"Will you smoke, Stokes?" Spence said.
+
+"Thank you, I'll have a cigarette," the young man replied. "I can't
+stand cigars, and I've left my pipe at the Clergy House."
+
+They looked for cigarettes in the silver box lined with cedar which
+stood on the mantel-shelf, but some one had smoked them all and the box
+was empty.
+
+"Never mind," Spence said; "I've been meaning to run out and get a late
+_Westminster_ and I'll buy some cigarettes, too. There's a shop at the
+Holborn end of the Lane, next to the shop where the oysters come from,
+and it won't be shut yet."
+
+In a few minutes he came back with several packets of cigarettes in his
+hand. "I've brought Virginian," he said; "I know you can't stand
+Egyptian, none of us can, and if these are cheap, they're good, too."
+
+Till eleven o'clock Stokes played to them--Chopin's wild music of
+melancholy and fire--and as the hour struck he went home.
+
+Gortre and Spence sat and talked casually after he had gone, about the
+music they had heard, the cartoon in the evening paper, anything that
+came.
+
+Basil had not been smoking during the evening. He had been too intent
+upon the nocturnes, and now he felt a want of tobacco. One of the
+packets of cigarettes lay by him on the table. He pulled up the flaps
+and took one. Without thinking what he was doing he drew a little
+photograph, highly finished and very clear, from the tiny cardboard
+case.
+
+He glanced at it casually.
+
+The thing was one of those pictures of burlesque actresses which are
+given away with this kind of tobacco. A tall girl with short skirts and
+a large picture hat was shown in a coquettish attitude that was meant to
+be full of invitation.
+
+Basil looked at it steadily with a curious expression on his face. Then
+he took a large reading-glass from the table and examined it again,
+magnifying it to many times its original size.
+
+He scrutinised it with great care. It was the portrait of the strange
+girl who came to St. Mary's.
+
+Basil had told Spence of this woman, and now he passed the photograph on
+to him.
+
+"Harold, that is the girl who comes to church and looks so unhappy. She
+is an actress, of course. The name is underneath--Miss Gertrude Hunt.
+Who is Miss Gertrude Hunt?"
+
+Spence took the thing. "How very queer!" he said, "to find your unknown
+like this. Gertrude Hunt? Why, she is a well-known musical comedy girl,
+sings and dances at the Regent, you know. There are all the usual
+stories about the lady, but possibly they are all lies. I'm sure I don't
+know. I've chucked that sort of society long ago. Are you sure it's the
+same person?"
+
+"Oh, quite sure! Of course, this shows the girl in a different dress and
+so on, but it's she without a doubt. I am glad she comes to church. It
+is not what one expects from what one hears of that class of woman, and
+it's not what one generally finds in the parish."
+
+He sighed, thinking of the many chilling experiences of the last few
+months in the vice-haunted streets and squares of Bloomsbury.
+
+"Well," said Spence, "experiments with that type are generally failures,
+and sometimes dangerous to the experimenter. You remember Anatole
+France's _Thais_? But this damsel is no Thais certainly, and you aren't
+a bit like Paphuntius. I hope you will be able to do some good.
+Personally, anything of the sort would be quite impossible to me.
+Good-night, old man. I'm going to turn in. I've a hard day's work
+to-morrow. Sleep well."
+
+He went out of the room with a yawn.
+
+When he was left alone, with his little mystery solved in so commonplace
+a fashion, Basil was conscious of a curious disappointment. It was an
+anti-climax.
+
+He had no narrow objection to the theatre. Now and then he had been to
+see famous actors in great plays. His occasional visits to the theatres
+of Irving or Wyndham had given him pleasure, nevertheless he had always
+felt a slight instinctive dislike to the trade of a mime. All voluntary
+sacrifices of personal dignity affect the average English temperament in
+this way more or less. However much the apologists of the stage may cry
+"art" or "beneficial influence," your British thinker is not convinced
+that there is anything very worthy in painting the face and making the
+body a public show for a wage. And there is sometimes a kind of wonder
+in the heart of a sincere Christian who attends a theatre as he
+remembers that the body is the Temple of the Holy Spirit.
+
+Still Basil was tolerant enough. But this case which had thrust itself
+before him was quite different. He knew that the burlesque, the modern
+music play, made, first and foremost, a frank appeal to the senses. Its
+hopeless vulgarity and coarseness of sentiment, its entire lack of
+appeal to anything that was not debased and materialistic, were ordinary
+indisputable facts of every-day life. And so his lady of evensong was a
+high-priestess of nothing better than this cult of froth and gaudy
+sensuality. More than all others, his experiences of late had taught him
+that women of this class seemed to be very nearly soulless. Their souls
+had dissolved in champagne, their consciences were burnt up by the
+feverish excitement and pleasure of their lives. They sold themselves
+for luxury and the adulation of coarse men.
+
+His very chagrin made him bitter and contemptuous more than his wont.
+
+Then his eye lit upon a photogravure hung upon the opposite wall. It
+was the reproduction of a quaint, decorative, stilted picture by an
+artist of the early Umbrian school, and represented St. Mary Magdalene.
+
+The coincidence checked his contemptuous thoughts.
+
+He began to reconstruct the scene in his brain, a favourite and
+profitable exercise of his, using his knowledge and study of the old dim
+times to animate the picture and make it vivid.
+
+They were all resting, or rather lying, around the table, the body
+resting on the couch, the feet turned away from the table in the
+direction of the wall, while the left elbow rested on the table.
+
+And then, from the open courtyard, up the verandah step, perhaps through
+an antechamber, and by the open door, passed the figure of a woman into
+the festive reception-room and dining-hall. How had she gained access?
+How incongruous her figure must have been there! In those days the
+Jewish prejudice against any conversation with women--even those of the
+most lofty character--was extreme.
+
+The shadow of her form must have fallen on all who sat at meat. But no
+one spoke, nor did she heed any but One only.
+
+The woman had brought with her an _alabastron_ of perfume. It was a
+flask of precious _foliatum_, probably, which women wore round the neck,
+and which hung over the breast. The woman stood behind Him at His feet,
+and as she bowed reverently a shower of tears, like sudden summer rain,
+"bedewed" His feet.
+
+Basil went through the whole scene until the final, "Go _into_ peace"
+not go _in_ peace, as the logical dogmatics would have had it.
+
+And so she, the first who had come to Him for spiritual healing, went
+out into the better light, and into the eternal peace of the Kingdom of
+Heaven.
+
+Basil tore up the vulgar little photograph and forgot that aspect of the
+dancer. He remembered rather the dim figure by the font.
+
+There was a sudden furious knocking on the outer door of the chambers,
+and he went to open it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+POWERS OF GOOD AND EVIL
+
+
+Gortre felt certain that his vicar stood without. His knocking was full
+of militant Christianity. The tumultuous energy of the man without
+communicated its own stir and disturbance to Basil's brain by the most
+subtle of all forms of telepathy--that "telepathy" which, in a few more
+years, will have its definite recipes and formulæ.
+
+Father Ripon refused to live by any standard of measured time. He
+refused--so he said--to believe that a wretched little clock really knew
+what the great golden sun was doing. He had found it impossible to call
+on Gortre before this late hour, and he came regardless of it now. He
+wished to see Basil, and he came now with a supreme and simple
+carelessness of conventional time.
+
+As usual, the worthy man was hungry, and the _débris_ of supper on the
+table reminded him of that. He sat down at once and began to eat
+rapidly, telling his story between mouthfuls.
+
+"I bring you news of a famous opportunity," he said. "If you go to work
+in the right way you may win a soul. It's a poor _demi-mondaine_
+creature, a dancer at the theatres. She came to me in her brougham, her
+furs, and finery, and had a chat in my study. I gave her tea and a
+cigarette--you know I always keep some cigarettes for the choir-men or
+teachers when they call. All these women smoke. It's a great thing to
+treat these people with understanding and knowledge, Gortre. Don't
+'come the priest' over them, as a coster said to me last week. When they
+realise that one is a man, _then_ they are fifty times more willing to
+allow the other and more important thing.
+
+"Well, this poor girl told me all about it, the same very sordid story
+one is always hearing. She is a favourite burlesque actress, and she
+lives very expensively in those gorgeous new flats--Bloomsbury Court.
+Some wealthy scoundrel pays for it all. A man 'in a very high position,'
+as she said with a pathetic little touch of pride which made me want to
+weep. Oh, my dear fellow, if the world only knew what I know! Great and
+honoured names in the senate, the forum, the Court, unsullied before the
+eyes of men. And then these hideous establishments and secret ties! This
+is a wicked city. The deadly lusts which war against the soul are great,
+powerful, and militant all around us.
+
+"This poor woman has been coming regularly to church on Sundays. The
+first time was when you preached your capital sermon on the
+Resurrection. Now, she is dying from a slow complaint. She will live a
+year or two, the doctors think, and that is all. It does not prevent her
+from living her ordinary life, but it will strike her down suddenly some
+day.
+
+"She has expressed a wish to see you to talk things over with you. She
+thinks you can help her. Go to her and save her. We _must_."
+
+He handed Gortre a visiting-card, on which he saw the name of Gertrude
+Hunt with a curious lack of surprise.
+
+"Well, I must be off," said Father Ripon, rising from the table with a
+large hunk of bread and cheese in one hand.
+
+"Go and see this poor woman to-morrow evening. She tells me she isn't
+acting for a week or two,--rehearsing some new play. Isn't it wonderful
+to think of the things that are going on every day? Just think of the
+Holy Spirit pouring into this sinning creature's heart, catching her in
+the middle of her champagne and frivolity, and just turning her, almost
+_compelling_ her towards Christ! And men like John Morley or Constantine
+Schuabe say there is no truth in Christianity!--I'll take one of these
+apples--poor fools! Now I must go and write my sermon."
+
+He was gone in a clattering rush.
+
+For a long time Basil sat thinking. The mysterious links of some great
+chain were being revealed inch by inch. Wonderful as these circumstances
+already seemed to him, he felt sure there was far more behind them than
+he knew as yet. There was some unseen tie, some influence that drew his
+thoughts ever more and more towards the library in the palace at
+Manchester.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next evening a maid showed Gortre into the hall of the flat of
+Bloomsbury Court Mansions, eyeing him curiously as she did so.
+
+He passed down the richly carpeted passage with a quickening of all his
+pulses, noticing the Moorish lamps of copper studded with turquoise
+which threw a dim crimson light over everything, marking the
+ostentatious luxury of the place with wonder.
+
+Gertrude Hunt lay back in a low arm-chair. She was dressed in a long,
+dull red teagown of cashmere, with a broad white band round the neck
+opening of white Indian needlework, embroidered with dark green leaves.
+
+Her face was pale and tired.
+
+Despite the general warmth of the time, a fire burnt steadily on the
+hearth.
+
+Gortre sat down at her invitation, and they fell into a desultory
+conversation. He waited for her to open on the real subjects that had
+brought him there.
+
+He watched the tired, handsome face. Coarse it certainly was, in
+expression rather than feature, but that very coarseness gave it power.
+This woman, who lived the life of a doll, had character. One saw that.
+Perhaps, he thought, as he looked at her, that the very eagerness and
+greed for pleasure marked in her face, the passionate determination to
+tear the heart and core out of life, might still be directed to purer
+and nobler ends.
+
+Then she began to talk to him quite frankly, and with no disguise or
+slurring over the facts of her life.
+
+"I'm sick and tired of it all, Mr. Gortre," she said bitterly. "You
+can't know what it means a bit--lucky for you. Imagine spending all your
+life in a room painted bright yellow, eating nothing but chocolate
+creams, with a band playing comic songs for ever and ever. And even then
+you won't get it."
+
+Basil shuddered. There was something so poignant and forceful in her
+words that they hurt, stung like a whip-lash. He was being brought into
+terrible contact not only with sin and the satiety of sin, but with its
+results. The hideous staleness and torture of it all appalled him as he
+looked at this human personification of it in the crimson gown.
+
+"That's how it was at first," she continued. "I knew there was something
+more than this in life, though. I could read it in people's faces. So I
+came to the service at your church one Sunday evening. I'd never made
+fun of religion and all that at any time. I simply couldn't believe it,
+that was all. Then I heard you preach on the Resurrection. I heard all
+the proofs for the first time. Of course, I could see there wasn't any
+doubt about the matter at all. Then, curiously, directly I began to
+_believe_ in it I began to hate the way I was going on, so I went to
+Father Ripon, who was very nice, and he said you'd call."
+
+"I quite understand you, Miss Hunt," said Gortre. "That's the beauty of
+faith. When once you believe, then you've _got_ to change. It's a great
+pity, a very great pity, that clergymen don't attempt to explain things
+more than they do. If one isn't built in a certain way, I can quite
+understand and sympathise with any one who isn't able to take a parson's
+mere statement on trust, so to speak. But that's beside the way. _You_
+believe at any rate. And now what are you going to do? I'm here to help
+you in every possible way. I want to hear your views, just as you have
+thought them out."
+
+"I like that," she said. "That's practical and sensible. I've never
+cared very much for sentimental ways of looking at things. You know I
+can't live very long. I've got enough to live quietly on for some years,
+put away in a bank, money I've made acting. I haven't spent a penny of
+my salary for years--I've made the men pay for everything. I shall go
+quietly away to the country and be alone with my thoughts, close to a
+little quiet church. You'll find a place for me, won't you? That's what
+I want to do. But there's something in the way, and a big something,
+too."
+
+"I'm here to help that," said Basil.
+
+"It's Bob," she answered. "The man that keeps me. I'm afraid of him.
+He's been away for months, out of England, but he's coming back at once.
+To-morrow as likely as not, he couldn't say to a day. I had a letter
+from Brindisi last week. He's been to Palestine, _via_ Alexandria."
+
+A quick premonition took hold of the young man.
+
+"Who is he?" he asked.
+
+She took a photograph from the mantel-shelf and gave it to him. It was
+one of the Stereoscopic Company's series of "celebrities." Under the
+portrait was printed--"Sir Robert Llwellyn."
+
+Gortre started violently.
+
+"I know him," he said thickly. "I felt when I met him--What does it all
+mean?"
+
+He dropped his head into his hands, filled with the old, nameless,
+unreasoning fear.
+
+She looked steadily at him, wondering at his manner.
+
+There was a tense silence for a time.
+
+In the silence suddenly they heard a sound, clear and distinct. A key
+was being inserted into the door of the flat.
+
+They waited breathlessly. Gertrude Hunt grew very white. Without any
+words from her, Basil knew whose fingers were even now upon the handle
+of the door.
+
+Llwellyn entered. His huge form was dressed in a light grey suit and he
+carried a straw hat in his hand. His face was burned a deep brown.
+
+He stopped suddenly as he saw Gortre and an ugly look flashed out on the
+sensual, intellectual face. Some swift intuition seemed to give him the
+key of the situation or something near it.
+
+"The curate of Dieppe!" he said in a cold, mirthless voice. "And what,
+Mr. Gortre, may I ask, are you doing here?"
+
+"Miss Hunt has asked me to come and see her," answered Basil.
+
+"Consoling yourself with the Church, Gertie, while your proprietor is
+away?" Llwellyn said with a sneer.
+
+Then his manner changed suddenly.
+
+He turned to Gortre. "Now then, my man," he snarled, "get out of this
+place at once. You may not know that I pay the rent and other expenses
+of this establishment. It is _mine_. I know all about you. Your
+reputation has reached me from sources you have little idea of. And I
+saw you at Dieppe. I don't propose to resume our acquaintance in London;
+kindly go at once."
+
+Basil looked at the woman. He saw pleading, a terrible entreaty in her
+eyes. If he left her now, the power of this man, his strength of will,
+might drag her back for ever into hell. He could see the girl regarded
+him with terror. There was a great surprise in her face also. The man
+seemed so strong and purposeful. Even Gortre remembered that he had worn
+no such indefinable air of confidence and triumph six months ago in
+France.
+
+"Miss Hunt wants me to stay, sir," he answered quietly, "and so I'm
+going to stay. But perhaps you had better be given an explanation at
+once. Miss Hunt is going to leave you to-morrow. She will never see you
+again."
+
+"And may I ask," the big man answered, "why you have interfered in my
+private affairs and why you _think_--for she is going to do nothing of
+the sort--Miss Hunt is going from here?"
+
+"Simply because the Holy Spirit wills it so," said the clergyman.
+
+Llwellyn looked steadily at him and then at the woman.
+
+Something he saw in their faces told him the truth.
+
+He laughed shortly. "Let me tell you," he said in a voice which quivered
+with ugly passion, "that in a short time all meddling priests will lose
+their power over the minds of others for ever. Your Christ, your God,
+the pale dreamer of the East, shall be revealed to you and all men at
+last!"
+
+His manner had changed once more. Fierce as it was, there was an intense
+_meaning_ and power in it. He spoke as one having authority, with also a
+concentrated hate in his words, so real and bitter that it gave them a
+certain fineness.
+
+"Yes!" he continued, lifting his arm with a sudden gesture:
+
+    "'Far hence He lies
+      In the lorn Syrian town,
+    And on His grave, with shining eyes,
+      The Syrian stars look down.'"
+
+Gortre answered him:
+
+"You lie and you know you lie! and by the powers given to me I'll tell
+you so from God Himself. Christ is risen! And as the day follows the
+night so the Spirit of God remains upon the earth God once visited, and
+works upon the hearts of men."
+
+"Are you going?" said Llwellyn, stepping towards Gortre.
+
+"No," the young man answered in sharp, angry tones. "It's you that are
+going, Sir Robert. You know as well as I do that I can do exactly as I
+like with you if it comes to force. And really I am not at all
+disinclined to do so, despite my parson's coat. Then you will have your
+remedy, you know. The newly made knight fighting a clergyman under such
+very curious circumstances! If this thing is to become open talk, then
+let us have it so. You can do me no harm. I came here at my vicar's
+request and Miss Hunt's. You know best if you can stand a scandal of
+this kind in your position. Now I'm going to use my last argument. Are
+you going at once or shall I knock you down and kick you out?"
+
+He could not help a note of exultation in his voice, try as he would. He
+was still a young man, full of power and virility. His life had brought
+no trace of effeminacy with it. And as he saw this splendid lying
+intellect, the slave of evil, and rejoicing in it, as he heard the
+arrogant denial of Christ's Godhead coming sonorously from those
+polluted lips, a wild longing flared up in him. Like a sudden flame,
+the impulse to strike a clean, hard blow fired all his blood. The old
+Oxford days of athletic triumphs on field, flood, and river came back to
+him.
+
+He measured the man scientifically with his eyes, judging his distance,
+alert to strike.
+
+But Llwellyn made no further movement of aggression and uttered no word
+of menace. He did not seem in the least afraid of Gortre or in any way
+intimidated by him. Indeed, he laughed, a laugh which was very hollow,
+mirthless, and cold.
+
+"Ah, my boy," he said, "I have a worse harm to work you than you can
+dream of yet. You will remember me some day. You can't frighten me now.
+I will go. I want no scandal. Good-bye, Gertrude. You also will remember
+and regret some day. Good-bye."
+
+He went noiselessly out of the room, still with the strange flickering
+smile of prescience and fate upon his evil face.
+
+When he had gone, Gertrude fell into a passion of weeping. The strain
+had been too great. Basil comforted her as well as he could, and before
+he went promised to see Father Ripon that night and make arrangements
+that she should quietly disappear the next day to some distant
+undiscoverable haven.
+
+Then he also went out into the night, through the silent squares of
+sleeping houses towards the Clergy House of St. Mary's. Once more his
+nerves were unstrung and the old fears and the sense of
+waiting--Damocles-like for some blow to fall--poured over him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sir Robert walked swiftly to Oxford Street, where he found a cab. He
+ordered the man to drive him to the Sheridan Club. On the way he stopped
+at Charing Cross Station and ordered his luggage to be sent home at
+once to his house in Upper Berkeley Street. He had only been in London
+two or three hours, having crossed from Calais that afternoon.
+
+He washed when he had arrived at the famous club, and then went
+up-stairs to the grill-room for some supper. It was the hour when the
+Sheridan is full of the upper Bohemian world. Great actors and
+musicians, a judge on his way through town from one watering-place to
+another,--for it was now the long vacation,--a good many well-known
+journalists, all sorts and conditions of men. All were eminent in their
+work, for that was a condition of membership.
+
+Llwellyn was welcomed on all sides, though men noticed that he seemed
+preoccupied. His healthy appearance was commented on, his face browned,
+as was supposed, by the sun of the Riviera, his general fitness of
+manner and carriage.
+
+He took supper by himself at a small table, choosing the menu with his
+usual extreme care, and more than once summoning the head waiter to
+conference. Although he kept glancing at his watch, as if expecting an
+arrival, he made a good meal, mixing his own salad of crisp white
+lettuce with deliberation.
+
+He had sent a page early on his arrival to find out if Mr. Constantine
+Schuabe was in the club.
+
+He was standing at the desk in the middle of the room, paying his bill,
+when the swing-doors were pushed open and Schuabe entered. He was in
+evening dress and carried a light overcoat on his arm.
+
+Llwellyn gathered up his change and went to meet him. Had there been an
+attentive observer to mark the meeting of the two men he would have
+perhaps been a little surprised at the fashion of it.
+
+Although Llwellyn was a six-months' stranger to London, and the meeting
+between the two men was obviously prearranged, _neither of the two men
+smiled as they shook hands_. Both were expectant of each other, pale,
+almost with some apprehension, it might have been fancied; and though
+the meeting seemed a relief to each, there was little human kindliness
+in it.
+
+"Come down to the Hotel," said Schuabe; "we can't possibly say anything
+here, every room is full."
+
+They walked out of the club together, two figures of noticeable
+distinction, very obviously belonging to the ruling classes of England.
+The millionaire's pale and beautiful face was worn and lined.
+
+"Schuabe seems a bit done up," one man in the hall said to another as
+the two friends passed through.
+
+"Heat, I suppose," answered his companion. "Handsome chap, though;
+doesn't seem to care for anything worth having, only books and politics
+and that. Wish I'd his money."
+
+"So do I. But give me Bob Llwellyn of these two. Thoroughly decent sort
+_he_ is. Invented two new omelettes and a white soup. Forgets all about
+his thing-um-bobs--old Egyptian or something--they knighted him for
+directly he leaves the Museum."
+
+"That's the sort," answered a third man who had joined them. "I don't
+object to a Johnny having a brain, and knowing a devil of a lot, if
+he'll only jolly well keep it to himself. Bob does that. I'm going
+up-stairs to have a turn at poker. You fellows coming?"
+
+Schuabe and Llwellyn walked to the Cecil, no great distance, saying
+little by the way, and presently they were in the millionaire's great
+room, with its spacious view over the river.
+
+The place was beautifully cool and full of flowers. A great block of ice
+rose from a copper bowl placed on a pedestal. The carpet had been
+covered with light matting of rice straw, brought from Rawal-pindi. All
+the windows leading to the balcony were wide open, and the balcony was
+covered with striped awning, underneath which the electric lights glowed
+on the leaves of Japanese palms, seeming as if they had been cunningly
+lacquered a metallic green colour, and on low chairs of white bleached
+rushes.
+
+The two men sat down in the centre of the room on light chairs, with a
+small Turkish table and cool drinks between them.
+
+"You've had all my letters, my last from Jaffa?" asked Sir Robert.
+
+"Yes, all of them," said Schuabe; "each one was carefully destroyed
+after I had read it and memorialised the contents. Let me say now that
+you have done your work with extraordinary brilliance. It has been an
+intellectual pleasure of a high order to follow your proceedings and
+know your plans. There is not another man in the world who could do what
+you have done. Everything seems guarded against, all is secure."
+
+"You are right, Schuabe," said Llwellyn, in a matter-of-fact voice. "You
+bade me make a certain thing _possible_. You paid me proportionately to
+the terrible risks and for my unrivalled knowledge. Well, you and I are
+going to shake the whole world as no two other men have ever done, and
+what will be the end?"
+
+"The end!" cried Schuabe, in a high, strained, unnatural voice. "Who
+shall say? What man can know? For ever more the gigantic fable of the
+Cross and the Man God will be overthrown. The temples of the world will
+fall into the abomination of desolation, and you and I, latter-day
+bringers of light--Lucifers!--will kill the pale Nazarene more surely
+than the Sanhedrists and soldiers of the past."
+
+There was a thin madness in his voice. The great figure of the _savant_
+shifted uneasily in its chair.
+
+"That fellow Gortre, that abominable young priest, has been getting in
+my way to-night," he said with a savage curse. "I found him with
+Gertrude Hunt, the woman I've spent thousands on! The priests have got
+her; she's going to 'lead a new life.' She has 'found Christ'!"
+
+Schuabe smiled horribly, a cunning smile of unutterable malice.
+
+"He has crossed my path also," he said; "in some way, by a series of
+coincidences, he has become slightly involved in our lives. Leave the
+matter to me. So small a thing as the fanaticism of one obscure youth is
+nothing to trouble us. I will see to his future. But he shall live to
+know what is coming to the world. Then--it is easy enough. He thwarted
+_me_ one night also."
+
+They were silent for a minute or two. Sir Robert lifted a long glass to
+his lips. His hand shook with passion, and the ice in the liquid clinked
+and tinkled.
+
+"Everything is now ready," he said at last, glancing at Schuabe. "Every
+detail. Ionides knows what he has to do when he receives the signal. He
+is a mere tool, and knows and cares nothing of what will happen. He is
+to direct the excavators in certain directions, that is all. It will be
+three months, so I calculate, after we have set the machinery in motion,
+before the blow will fall. It rests with you now to begin."
+
+"The sign shall go at once," said Schuabe. His eyes glittered, his mouth
+worked with emotion.
+
+"It is a letter with a single sign on it."
+
+"What is the sign?"
+
+"A drawing of a broken cross."
+
+"Before the day dawns we will send the broken cross to Jerusalem."
+
+
+END OF BOOK I
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+"A horror of great darkness."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+WHILE LONDON WAS SLEEPING
+
+
+In the winter, two or three weeks before Christmas, Gortre asked Father
+Ripon for a ten days' holiday, and went to Walktown to spend the time
+with Mr. Byars and Helena. Christmas itself could be no time of vacation
+for him,--the duties of St. Mary's were very heavy,--so he snatched a
+respite from work before the actual time of festival.
+
+Harold Spence was left alone in the chambers at Lincoln's Inn. The
+journalist found himself discontented, lonely, and bored. He had not
+realised before how much Basil's society had contributed to his
+happiness during the past few months. It had grown to be a necessity to
+him gradually, and, as is the case with all gradual processes, the lack
+of it surprised him with its sense of incompleteness and loss.
+
+He had spent a hard summer and autumn over very uncongenial work. For
+months there had been a curious lull and calm in the news-world. Yet day
+by day the _Daily Wire_ had to be filled. Not that there was any lack of
+material,--even in the dullest season the expert journalist will tell
+one that his difficulty is what to _leave out_ of his paper, not what to
+_put in_,--but that the material was uninteresting and dull.
+
+He felt himself that his leaders were growing rather stale, lacking in
+spontaneity. His style did not glitter and ring quite as usual. And
+Basil had helped him through this time wonderfully.
+
+One Wednesday--he remembered the day afterwards--Spence awoke about
+mid-day. He had been late at the office the night before and afterwards
+had gone to a club, not going to bed till after four.
+
+He heard the laundress moving about the chambers preparing his
+breakfast. He shouted to her, and in a minute or two she came in with
+his letters and a cup of tea. She went to the window and pulled up the
+blind, letting a dreary grey-yellow December light into the room.
+
+"Nasty day, Mrs. Buscall," he said, sipping his tea.
+
+"It is so, sir," the woman said, a lean, kindly-faced London drudge from
+a court in Drury Lane. "Gives me a frog in my throat all the time, this
+fog does. You'd better let me pour a drop of hot water in your bath,
+sir. I've got the kettle on the gas stove."
+
+The laundress had an objection to baths, deep-rooted and a matter of
+principle. The daily cold tub she regarded as suicidal, and when Gortre
+had arrived, her pained surprise at finding him also--a clergyman
+too!--addicted to such adventurous and injudicious habits had been as
+extreme as her disappointment.
+
+Spence agreed to humour her, and she began to prepare the bath.
+
+"Letter from Mr. Cyril, I see, sir," she remarked. Mrs. Buscall loved
+the archæologist with more strenuousness than her other two charges. The
+unusual and mysterious has a real fascination for a certain type of
+uneducated Cockney brain. Hands's rare sojourns at the chambers, the
+Eastern dresses and pictures in his room, his strange and perilous
+life--as she considered it--in the veritable Bible land, where Satan
+actually roamed the desert in the form of a lion seeking whom he might
+devour, all these stimulated her crude imagination and brought colour
+into the dreary purlieus of Drury Lane.
+
+Most of the women around Mrs. Buscall drank gin. The doings of Cyril
+Hands were sufficient tonic for her.
+
+Spence glanced at the bulky packet with its Turkish stamps and peculiar
+aroma--which the London fog had not yet killed--of ships and alien suns.
+Hands was a good correspondent. Sometimes he sent general articles on
+the work he was doing, not too technical, and Ommaney, the editor of
+Spence's paper, used and paid well for them.
+
+But on this morning Spence did not feel inclined to open the packet. It
+could wait. He was not in the humour for it now. It would be too
+tantalising to read of those deep skies like a hard, hollow turquoise,
+of the flaming white sun, the white mosques and minarets throwing purple
+shadows round the cypress and olive.
+
+"_Neque enim ignari sumus_," he muttered to himself, recalling the swing
+and freedom of his own travels, the vivid, picturesque life where, at
+great moments, he had been one of the eyes of England, flashing electric
+words to tell his countrymen of what lay before him.
+
+And now, after the chill of his bath and the rasping torture of shaving
+in winter, he must light all the gas-jets as he sat down to breakfast in
+his sitting-room!
+
+He opened the _Wire_ and glanced at his own work of the night before.
+How lifeless it seemed to him!
+
+     "Many years ago Bagehot wrote that 'Parliament expresses the
+     nation's opinions in words well, when it happens that words, not
+     laws, are wanted. On foreign matters, where we cannot legislate,
+     whatever the English nation thinks, or thinks it thinks, as to the
+     critical events of the world, whether in Denmark, in Italy or
+     America, and no matter whether it thinks wisely or unwisely, that
+     same something, wise or unwise, will be thoroughly well said in
+     Parliament.'
+
+     "We have never read a finer defence of such Parliamentary
+     discussion as the recent events in certain Continental
+     bureaucracies have given rise to, etc., etc."
+
+Words! words! words! that seemed to him to mean little and matter
+nothing. Yet as he chipped his egg he remembered that the writing of
+this leader had meant considerable mental strain. Oh, for a big
+happening abroad, when he would be sent and another would take up this
+routine work! He knew he was a far better correspondent than leader
+writer. His heart was in that work.
+
+There were one or two invitations among his letters, two books were sent
+by a young publisher, a friend of his, asking if he could get them
+"noticed" in the _Wire_, and a syllabus of some winter lectures to be
+given at Oxford House. His name was there. He was to lecture in January
+on "The Sodality of the Knights of St. John".
+
+After breakfast, the lunch time of most of the world, he found it
+impossible to settle down to anything. He was not due at the office that
+night, and the long hours, without the excitement of his work, stretched
+rather hopelessly before him. He thought of paying calls in the various
+parts of the West End, where he had friends whom he had rather neglected
+of late. But he dismissed that idea when it came, for he did not feel as
+if he could make himself very agreeable to any one.
+
+He wanted a complete change of some sort. He half thought of running
+down to Brighton, fighting the cold, bracing sea winds on the lawns at
+Hove, and returning the next day.
+
+He was certainly out of sorts, liverish no doubt, and the solution to
+his difficulties presented itself to him in the project of a Turkish
+bath.
+
+He put his correspondence into the pocket of his overcoat, to be read
+at leisure, and drove to a hammam in Jermyn Street.
+
+The physical warmth, the silence, the dim lights, and Oriental
+decorations induced a supreme sense of comfort and _bien-être_. It
+brought Constantinople back to him in vague reverie.
+
+Perhaps, he thought, the Turkish bath in London is the only easy way to
+obtain a sudden and absolute change of environment. Nothing else brings
+detachment so readily, is so instinct with change and the unusual.
+
+In delightful langour he passed from one dim chamber to another, lying
+prone in the great heat which surrounded him like a cloak. Then the
+vigorous kneading and massage, the gradual toning and renovating of each
+joint and muscle, till he stood drenched in aromatic foam, a new, fresh
+physical personality. The swift dive under the india-rubber curtain left
+behind the domed, dim places of heat and silence. He plunged through the
+bottle-green water of the marble pool into the hall, where lounges stood
+about by small inlaid octagonal tables, and a thin whip of a fountain
+tinkled among green palms. Wrapped from head to foot in soft white
+towels, he lay in a dream of contentment, watching the delicate spirals
+from his Cairene cigarette, and sipping the brown froth of a tiny cup of
+thick coffee.
+
+At four a slippered attendant brought him a sole and a bottle of yellow
+wine, and after the light meal he fell once more into a placid,
+restorative sleep.
+
+And all the while the letter from Jerusalem was in his overcoat pocket,
+forgotten, hung in the entrance-hall. The thing which was to alter the
+lives of thousands and ten thousands, that was to bring a cloud over
+England more dark and menacing than it had ever known, lay there with
+its stupendous message, its relentless influence, while outside the
+church bells all over London were tolling for Evensong.
+
+At length, as night was falling, Spence went out into the lighted
+streets with their sudden roar of welcome. He was immensely refreshed in
+brain and body. His thoughts moved quickly and well, depression had left
+him, the activity of his brain was unceasing.
+
+As a rule, especially for the last year or two, Spence was by no means a
+man given to casual amusements. His work was too absorbing for him to
+have time or inclination to follow pleasure. But to-night he felt in the
+humour for relaxation.
+
+He turned into St. James Street, where his club was, intending to find
+some one who would go to a music-hall with him. There was no one he knew
+intimately in the smoking-room, but soon after he arrived Lambert, one
+of the deputy curators from the British Museum, came in. Spence and
+Lambert had been at Marlborough together.
+
+Spence asked Lambert, who was in evening dress, to be his companion.
+
+"Sorry I can't, old man," he answered; "I've got to dine with my uncle,
+Sir Michael. It's a bore, of course, but it's policy. The place will be
+full of High Church bishops, minor Cabinet Ministers, and people of that
+sort. I only hope old Ripon will be there--he's my uncle's tame vicar,
+you know; uncle runs an expensive church, like some men run a
+theatre--for he's always bright and amusing. You're not working
+to-night, then?"
+
+"No, not to-night. I've been and had a Turkish bath, and I thought I'd
+wind up a day of mild dissipation by going to the Alhambra."
+
+"Sorry I can't go too--awful bore. I've had a tiring day, too, and a
+ballet would be refreshing. The governor's been in a state of filthy
+irritation and nerves for the last fortnight."
+
+"Sir Robert Llwellyn, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, he's my chief, and a very good fellow too, as a rule. He went away
+for several months, you know--travelled abroad for his health. When he
+first came back, three months ago, he looked as fit as a fiddle, and
+seemed awfully pleased with himself all round. But lately he's been
+decidedly off colour. He seems worried about something, does hardly any
+work, and always seems waiting and looking out for a coming event. He
+bothers me out of my life, always coming into my room and talking about
+nothing, or speculating upon the possibility of all sorts of new
+discoveries which will upset every one's theories."
+
+"I met him in Dieppe in the spring. He seemed all right then, just at
+the beginning of his leave."
+
+"Well, he's certainly not that now, worse luck, and confound him. He
+interferes with my work no end. Good-bye; sorry I must go."
+
+He passed softly over the heavy carpet of the smoking-room, and Spence
+was left alone once more.
+
+It was after seven o'clock.
+
+Spence wasn't hungry yet. The light meal in the hammam had satisfied
+him. He resolved to go to the Empire alone, not because the idea of
+going seemed very attractive, but because he had planned it and could
+substitute no other way of spending the evening for the first
+determination.
+
+So, about nine o'clock, he strolled into the huge, garish music-hall.
+
+He went into the Empire, and already his contentment was beginning to
+die away again. The day seemed a day of trivialities, a sordid,
+uneventful day of London gloom, which he had vainly tried to disperse
+with little futile rockets of amusement.
+
+He sat down in a stall and watched a clever juggler doing wonderful
+things with billiard balls. After the juggler a coarsely handsome
+Spanish girl came upon the stage--he remembered her at La Scala, in
+Paris. She was said to be one of the beauties of Europe, and a king's
+favourite.
+
+After the Spanish woman there were two men, "brothers" some one. One was
+disguised as a donkey--a veritable _peau de chagrin_!--the other as a
+tramp, and together they did laughable things.
+
+With a sigh he went up-stairs and moved slowly through the thronged
+promenade. The hard faces of the men and women repelled him. One elderly
+Jewish-looking person reminded him of a great grey slug. He turned into
+the American bar at one extremity of the horse-shoe. It was early yet,
+and the big room, pleasantly cool, was quite empty. A man brought him a
+long, parti-coloured drink.
+
+He felt the pressure of a packet in his pocket. It was Cyril Hands's
+letter, he found as he took it out. He thought of young Lambert at the
+club, a friend of Hands and fellow-worker in the same field, and
+languidly opened the letter.
+
+Two women came in and sat at a table not far from him as he began to
+read. He was the only man in the place, and they regarded him with a
+tense, conscious interest.
+
+They saw him open a bulky envelope with a careless manner. He would look
+up soon, they expected.
+
+But as they watched they saw a sudden, swift contraction of the brows, a
+momentous convulsion of every feature. His head bent lower towards the
+manuscript. They saw that he became very pale.
+
+In a minute or two what had at first seemed a singular paleness became a
+frightful ashen colour.
+
+"That Johnny's going to be ill," one of the women said to the other.
+
+As she spoke they saw the face change. A lurid excitement burst upon it
+like a flame. The eyes glowed, the mouth settled into swift purpose.
+
+Spence took up his hat and left the room with quick, decided steps. He
+threaded his way through the crowd round the circle--like a bed of
+orchids, surrounded by heavy, poisonous scents--and almost ran into the
+street.
+
+A cab was waiting. He got into it, and, inspired by his words and
+appearance, the man drove furiously down dark Garrick Street, and the
+blazing Strand towards the offices of the _Daily Wire_.
+
+The great building of dressed stone which stood in the middle of Fleet
+Street was dark. The advertisement halls and business offices were
+closed.
+
+Spence paid his man and dived down a long, narrow passage, paved, and
+with high walls on either side. At the end of the passage he pushed open
+some battered swing-doors. A _commissionaire_ in a little hutch touched
+his cap as Spence ran up a broad flight of stone stairs.
+
+The journalist turned down a long corridor with doors on either side.
+The glass fanlights over the doors showed that all the rooms were
+brilliantly lit within. The place was very quiet, save for the distant
+clicking of a typewriter and the thud of a "column-printer" tape machine
+as the wheel carrier shot back for a new line.
+
+He opened a door with his own name painted on it and went inside. At a
+very large writing-table, on which stood two shaded electric lights, an
+elderly man, heavily built and bearded, was writing on small slips of
+paper. There was another table in the room, a great many books on
+shelves upon the walls, and a thick carpet. The big man looked up as
+Spence came in, lifted a cup of tea which was standing by him, and drank
+a little. He nodded without speaking, and went on with his leading
+article.
+
+Spence took off his hat and coat, drew the sheets of Hands's letter from
+his pocket, and went out into the passage. At the extreme end he opened
+a door, and passing round a red baize screen found himself in Ommaney's
+room, the centre of the great web of brains and machinery which daily
+gave the _Wire_ to the world.
+
+Ommaney's room was very large, warm, and bright. It was also extremely
+tidy. The writing-table had little on it save a great blotting-pad and
+an inkstand. The books on chairs and shelves were neatly arranged.
+
+The editor sat at a table in the centre of the room, facing several
+doors which led into various departments of the staff. The chief
+sub-editor, a short, alert person, spectacled and Jewish in aspect,
+stood by Ommaney's side as Spence came in. He had proof of page three in
+his hand--that portion of the paper which consisted of news which had
+accumulated through the day. He was submitting it to the editor, so that
+the whole sheet might be finally "passed for press" and "go to the
+foundry," where the type would be pressed into _papier-mâché_ moulds,
+from which the final curved plates for the roller machines would be
+cast.
+
+"Not at all a bad make-up, Levita," Ommaney said, as he initialled the
+margin in blue pencil. The sub-editor hurried from the room.
+
+Ommaney was slim and pale, carefully dressed, and of medium height. He
+did not look very old. His moustache was golden and carefully tended,
+his pale, honey-coloured hair waved over a high, white forehead.
+
+"I shall want an hour," Spence said. "I've just got what may be the most
+stupendous news any newspaper has ever published."
+
+The editor looked up quickly. A flash of interest passed over his pale,
+immobile face and was gone. He knew that if Spence spoke like this the
+occasion was momentous.
+
+He looked at his watch. "Is it news for to-night's paper?" he said.
+
+"No," answered Spence. "I'm the only man in England, I think, who has it
+yet. We shall gain nothing by printing to-night. But we must settle on a
+course of action at once. That won't wait. You'll understand when I
+explain."
+
+Ommaney nodded. On the writing-table was a mahogany stand about a foot
+square. A circle was described on it, and all round the circle, like the
+figures on the face of a clock, were little ivory tablets an inch long,
+with a name printed on each. In the centre of the circle a vulcanite
+handle moved a steel bar working on a pivot. Ommaney turned the handle
+till the end of the bar rested over the tablet marked
+
+                 +--------------------+
+                 |   COMPOSING ROOM   |
+                 +--------------------+
+
+He picked up the receiver and transmitter of a portable telephone and
+asked one or two questions.
+
+When he had communicated with several other rooms in this way Ommaney
+turned to Spence.
+
+"All right," he said, "I can give you an hour now. Things are fairly
+easy to-night."
+
+He got up from the writing-table and sat down by the fire. Spence took a
+chair opposite.
+
+He seemed dazed. He was trembling with excitement, his face was pale
+with it, yet, above and beyond this agitation, there was almost fear in
+his eyes.
+
+"It's a discovery in Palestine--at Jerusalem," he said in a low,
+vibrating voice, spreading out the thin, crackling sheets of foreign
+note-paper on his knee and arranging them in order.
+
+"You know Cyril Hands, the agent of the Palestine Exploring Fund?"
+
+"Yes, quite well by reputation," said Ommaney, "and I've met him once or
+twice. Very sound man."
+
+"These papers are from him. They seem to be of tremendous importance, of
+a significance that I can hardly grasp yet."
+
+"What is the nature of them?" asked the editor, rising from his chair,
+powerfully affected in his turn by Spence's manner.
+
+Harold put his hand up to his throat, pulling at his collar; the apple
+moved up and down convulsively.
+
+"The Tomb!" Spence gasped. "The Holy Tomb!"
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Ommaney. "Another supposed burial-place of
+Christ--like the _Times_ business, when they found the Gordon Tomb, and
+Canon MacColl wrote such a lot?"
+
+His face fell a little. This, though interesting enough, and fine "news
+copy," was less than he hoped.
+
+"No, no," cried Spence, getting his voice back at last and speaking like
+a man in acute physical pain. "_A new tomb has been found. There is an
+inscription in Greek, written by Joseph of Arimathæa, and there are
+other traces._"
+
+His voice failed him.
+
+"_Go on, man, go on!_" said the editor.
+
+"_The inscription--tells that Joseph--took the body of Jesus--from his
+own garden tomb--he hid it in this place--the disciples never knew--it
+is a confession_----"
+
+Ommaney was as white as Spence now.
+
+"_There are other contributory proofs_," Spence continued. "_Hands says
+it is certain. All the details are here, read_----"
+
+Ommaney stared fixedly at his lieutenant.
+
+"_Then, if this is true_," he whispered, "_it means?_----"
+
+"THAT CHRIST NEVER ROSE FROM THE DEAD, THAT CHRISTIANITY IS ALL A LIE."
+
+Spence slipped back in his chair a little and fainted.
+
+With the assistance of two men from one of the other rooms they brought
+him back to consciousness before very long. Then while Ommaney read the
+papers Spence sat nervously in his chair, sipping some brandy-and-water
+they had brought him and trying to smoke a cigarette with a palsied
+hand.
+
+The editor finished at last. "Pull yourself together, Spence," he said
+sharply. "This is no time for sentiment. I know your beliefs, though I
+do not share them, and I can sympathise with you. But keep yourself off
+all private thoughts now. We must be extremely careful what we are
+doing. Now listen carefully to me."
+
+The keen voice roused Spence. He made a tremendous effort at
+self-control.
+
+"It seems," Ommaney went on, "that we alone know of this discovery. The
+secretary of the Palestine Exploring Society will not receive the news
+for another week, Hands says. He seems stunned, and no wonder. In about
+a fortnight his detailed papers will probably be published. I see he has
+already telegraphed privately for Dr. Schmöulder, the German expert. Of
+course you and I are hardly competent to judge of the value of this
+communication. To me--speaking as a layman--it seems extremely clear.
+But we must of course see a specialist before publishing anything. _If
+this news is true_--and I would give all I am worth if it were not,
+though I am no Christian--of course you realise that the future history
+of the world is changed? I hold in my hand something that will come to
+millions and millions of people as an utter extinction of hope and
+light. It's impossible to say what will happen. Moral law will be
+abrogated for a time. The whole moral fabric of Society will fall into
+ruin at once until it can adjust itself to the new state of things.
+There will be war all over the world; crime will cover England like a
+cloud----"
+
+His voice faltered as the terrible picture grew in his brain.
+
+Both of them felt that mere words were utterly unable to express the
+horrors which they saw dawning.
+
+"We don't know the truth yet," said Spence, at length.
+
+"No," answered Ommaney. "I am not going to speculate on it either. I am
+beginning to realise what we are dealing with. One man's brain cannot
+hold all this. So let me ask you to regard this matter _for the present_
+simply from the standpoint of the paper, and through it, of course, from
+the standpoint of public policy----"
+
+He broke off suddenly, for there was a knock at the door. A
+_commissionaire_ entered with a telegram. It was for Spence. He opened
+the envelope, read the contents with a groan, and passed it to the
+editor.
+
+The telegram was from Hands:
+
+     "Schmöulder entirely confirms discovery, is communicating first
+     instance with Kaiser privately, fuller details in mail, confer
+     Ommaney, make statement to Secretary Society, use Wire medium
+     publicity, leave all to you, see Prime Minister, send out Llwellyn
+     behalf Government immediately, meanwhile suggest attitude suspended
+     decision, personally fear little doubt.--HANDS."
+
+"We must act at once," said Ommaney. "We have a fearful responsibility
+now. It's not too much to say that everything depends on us. Have you
+got any of that brandy left? My head throbs like an engine."
+
+A sub-editor who came in and was briefly dismissed told his colleagues
+that something was going on in the editor's room of an extraordinary
+nature. "The chief was actually drinking a peg, and his hand shook like
+a leaf."
+
+Ommaney drank the spirits--he was an absolute teetotaler as a rule,
+though not pledged in any way to abstinence--and it revived him.
+
+"Now let us try and think," he said, lighting a cigarette and walking up
+and down the room.
+
+Spence lit a cigarette also. As he did so he gave a sudden, sharp,
+unnatural chuckle. He was smoking when the Light of the World--the whole
+great world!--was flickering into darkness.
+
+Ommaney saw him and interpreted the thought. He pulled him up at once
+with a few sharp words, for he knew that Spence was close upon hysteria.
+
+"From a news point of view," he continued, "we hold all the cards. No
+one else knows what we know. I am certain that the German papers will
+publish nothing for a day or two. The Emperor will tell them nothing,
+and they can have no other source of information; so I gather from this
+telegram. Dr. Schmöulder will not say anything until he has instructions
+from Potsdam. That means I need not publish anything in to-morrow's
+paper. It will relieve me of a great responsibility. We shall be first
+in the field, but I shall still have a few hours to consult with
+others."
+
+He pressed a bell on the table. "Tell Mr. Jones I wish to see him," he
+told the boy who answered the summons.
+
+A young man came in, the editor of the "personal" column.
+
+"Is the Prime Minister in town, Mr. Jones?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, sir; he's here for three more days."
+
+"I shall send a message now," said Ommaney, "asking for an interview in
+an hour's time. I know he will see me. He knows that I would not come at
+this hour unless the matter were of national importance. As you know, we
+are very much in the confidence of the Cabinet just now. I dare not wait
+till to-morrow." He rapidly wrote a note and sent for Mr. Folliott
+Farmer.
+
+The big-bearded man from Spence's room entered, smoking a briar pipe.
+
+"Mr. Farmer," said Ommaney, "I suppose you've done your leader?"
+
+"Sent it up-stairs ten minutes ago," said the big man.
+
+"Then I want you to do me a favour. The matter is so important that I do
+not like to trust any one else. I want you to drive to Downing Street at
+once as hard as you can go. Take this letter for Lord ----. It is making
+an appointment for me in an hour's time. He _must_ see it himself at
+once--take my card. One of the secretaries will try and put you off, of
+course. This is irregular, but it is of international importance. When I
+tell you this you will realise that Lord ---- _must_ see the note. Bring
+me back the answer as rapidly as you can."
+
+The elderly man--his name was a household word as a political writer all
+over England and the Continent--nodded without speaking, took the
+letter, and left the room. He knew Ommaney, and realised that if he made
+a messenger boy of him, Folliott Farmer, the matter was of supreme
+importance.
+
+"That is the only thing to do," said Ommaney. "No one else would be
+possible. The Archbishop would laugh. We must go to the real head. I
+only want to put myself on the safe side before publishing. If they
+meet me properly, then for the next few days we can control public
+opinion. If not, then it is my duty to publish, and if I'm not
+officially backed up there may be war in a week. Macedonia would be
+flaming, Turkish fanatics would embroil Europe. But that will be seen at
+once in Downing Street, unless I'm very much mistaken."
+
+"It's an awful, horrible risk we are running," said Spence. He was
+forgetting all personal impressions in the excitement of the work; the
+journalist was alive in him. "Hands's letter and diagrams seem so
+flawless; he has exhausted every means of disproving what he says; but
+still supposing that it is all untrue!"
+
+"I look at it this way," said Ommaney. "It's perfectly obvious, at any
+rate, that the discovery is of the first importance, regarded as news.
+Hands has the reputation of being a thoroughly safe man, and now he is
+supported by Schmöulder. Schmöulder is, of course, a man of world-wide
+reputation. As these two are certain, even if later opinion or discovery
+proves the thing to be untrue, the paper can't suffer. Our attitude
+will, of course, be non-committal, until certainty one way or the other
+comes. At any rate, it seems to me that you have brought in the greatest
+newspaper 'scoop' that has ever been known or thought of. For my part, I
+have little doubt of the truth of this. Can't go into it now, but it
+seems so very, very probable. It _explains_, and even _corroborates_,
+and that's the wonderful thing, so much of the Gospel narrative. We
+shall see what Llwellyn says. I've more to go into, but, meanwhile, I
+must make arrangements for setting up Hands's papers. Then there are the
+inscriptions, too. Of course they must be reproduced in facsimile. As we
+can't print in half-tone, I must have the photograph turned into an
+absolutely correct line drawing, and have line blocks made. I shall
+have pulls of the whole thing prepared and sent by post to-morrow at
+midnight to the editors of all the dailies in London and Paris, and to
+the heads of the Churches. I shall also prepare a statement, showing
+exactly how the documents have come into our possession and what steps
+we are taking. I shall write the thing to-night, after I have seen the
+Prime Minister."
+
+He went to his writing-table once more, moved the telephone indicator,
+and summoned the foreman printer.
+
+In a few moments a lean Scotchman in his shirt sleeves--one of the most
+autocratic and important people connected with the paper--came into the
+room.
+
+"I want an absolutely reliable linotype operator, Burness," said
+Ommaney. "He will have to set up some special copy for me after the
+paper's gone to press. It'll take him till breakfast-time. I want a man
+who will not talk. The thing is private and important. And it must be a
+man who can set up from the Greek font by hand also. There are some
+quotations in Greek included in the text."
+
+"Well, sirr," said the man, with a strong Scotch accent, "I can find ye
+a guid operrator to stay till morning, but aboot his silence--if it's of
+great moment--I wouldn't say, and aboot his aptitude for setting up
+Greek type I hae nae doot whatever. There's no a lino operrator in the
+building wha can do it. Some of the men at the case might, but that'll
+be keeping two men. Is it verra important, Mr. Ommaney?"
+
+"More important than anything I have ever dealt with."
+
+"Then ye'll please jist give the copy into my own hands, sirr. I'll do
+the lino and the case warrk mysel' and pull a galley proof for ye too.
+No one shall see the copy but me."
+
+"Thank you, Burness," said the editor. "I'm very much obliged. I shall
+be here till morning. I shall go out in an hour and be back by the time
+the machines are running down-stairs. Then the composing-room will be
+empty and you can get to work."
+
+"I'll start directly the plates have gone down to the foundry and the
+men are off, just keeping one hand to see to the gas-engine."
+
+"And, Burness, lock up the galley safely when you come down with the
+proof."
+
+"I'll do it, sir," and the great man--indispensable, and earning his six
+hundred a year--went away with the precious papers.
+
+"That is perfectly safe with Burness," said Spence, as the foreman
+compositor retired. "He will make no mistakes either. He is a capital
+Greek scholar, corrects the proof-readers themselves often."
+
+"Yes," answered Ommaney, "I know. I shall leave everything in his hands.
+Then late to-morrow night, just before the forms go to the foundry, I
+shall shove the whole thing in before any one knows anything about it,
+and nothing can get round to any other office. Burness will know about
+it beforehand, and he'll be ready to break up a whole page for this
+stuff. Of course, as far as leaders go and comment, I shall be guided
+very much by the result of my interview to-night and others to-morrow
+morning. I shall send off several cables before dawn to Palestine and
+elsewhere."
+
+Once more the editor began to pace up and down the room, thinking
+rapidly, decisively, deeply. The slim, fragile body was informed with
+power by the splendid brain which animated it.
+
+The rather languid, silent man was utterly changed. Here one could see
+the strength and force of the personality which directed and controlled
+the second, perhaps the first, most powerful engine of public opinion in
+the world. The millionaires who paid this frail-looking, youthful man
+an enormous sum to direct their paper for them knew what they were
+about. They had bought one of the finest living executive brains and
+made it a potentate among its fellows. This man who, when he was not at
+the office, or holding some hurried colloquy with one of the rulers of
+the world, was asleep in a solitary flat at Kensington, knew that he had
+an accepted right to send a message to Downing Street, such as he had
+lately done. No one knew his face--no one of the great outside public;
+his was hardly even a name to be recognised in passing, yet he, and
+Spence, and Folliott Farmer could shake a continent with their words.
+And though all knew it, or would at least have realised it had they ever
+given it a thought, the absolute self-effacement of journalism made it a
+matter of no moment to any of them.
+
+While Englishmen read their dicta, and unconsciously incorporated them
+into their own pronouncements, mouthing them in street, market, and
+forum, these men slept till the busy day was over, and once more with
+the setting of the sun stole out to their almost furtive and yet
+tremendous task.
+
+Every now and then Ommaney strode to the writing-table and made a rapid
+note on a sheet of paper.
+
+At last he turned to Spence.
+
+"I am beginning to have our line of action well marked out in my brain,"
+he said. "The thing is grouping itself very well. I am beginning to see
+my way. Now about you, Spence. Of course this thing is yours. At any
+rate you brought it here. Later on, of course, we shall show our
+gratitude in some substantial way. That will depend upon the upshot of
+the whole thing. Meanwhile, you will be quite wasted in London. I and
+Farmer and Wilson can deal with anything and everything here. Of course
+I would rather have you on the spot, but I can use you far better
+elsewhere."
+
+"Then?" said Spence.
+
+"You must go to Jerusalem at once. Start for Paris to-morrow morning at
+nine; you'd better go round to your chambers and pack up now and then
+come back here till it's time to start. You can sleep _en route_. I
+shall be here till breakfast-time, and I can give you final
+instructions."
+
+He used the telephone once more and his secretary came in.
+
+"Mr. Spence starts for Palestine to-morrow morning, Marriott," he said.
+"He is going straight through to Jerusalem as fast as may be. Oblige me
+by getting out a route for him at once, marking all the times for
+steamers and trains, etc., in a clear scheme for Mr. Spence to take with
+him. Be very careful with the Continental timetables indeed. If you can
+see any delay anywhere which will be likely to occur, go down to Cook's
+early in the morning and make full inquiries. If it is necessary,
+arrange for any special trains that may be necessary. Mr. Spence must
+not be delayed a day. Also map out various points on the journey, with
+the proper times, where we can telegraph instructions to Mr. Spence. Go
+down to Mr. Woolford and ask him for a hundred pounds in notes and give
+them to Mr. Spence. You will arrange about the usual letter of credit
+during the day and wire Mr. Spence at Paris after lunch."
+
+The young man went out to do his part in the great organisation which
+Ommaney controlled.
+
+"Then you'll be back between three and four?" Ommaney said.
+
+"Yes, I'll go and pack at once," Spence answered. "My passport from the
+Foreign Office is all right now."
+
+He rose to go, vigorous, and with an inexpressible sense of relief at
+the active prospect before him. There would be no time for haunting
+thought, for personal fears yet. He was going, himself, to the very
+heart of things, to see and to gain personal knowledge of these events
+which were shadowing the world.
+
+The door opened as he rose and Folliott Farmer strode in. With him was a
+tall, distinguished man of about five-and-thirty; he was in evening
+dress and rather bald.
+
+It was Lord Trelyon, the Prime Minister's private secretary.
+
+"I thought I would come myself with Mr. Farmer, Mr. Ommaney," he said,
+shaking hands cordially. "Lord ---- will see you. He tells me to say
+that if it is absolutely imperative he will see you. I suppose there is
+no doubt of that?"
+
+"None whatever, I'm sorry to say, Lord Trelyon," the editor answered.
+"Farmer, will you take charge till I return?"
+
+He slipped on his overcoat and a felt hat and left the room with the
+secretary without looking back. Spence followed the two down the
+stairs--the tall, athletic young fellow and the slim, nervous
+journalist. These were just driving furiously towards the Law Courts as
+Spence turned into Fleet Street on his way to Lincoln's Inn.
+
+Fleet Street was brilliantly lit and almost silent. A few cabs hovered
+about and that was all. Presently all the air would be filled with the
+dull roar and hum of the great printing machines in their underground
+halls, but the press hour was hardly yet.
+
+The porter let him into the Inn, and in a few moments he was striking
+matches and lighting the gas. Mrs. Buscall had cleared away the
+breakfast things, but the fire had long since gone out. The big rooms
+looked very bare and solitary, unfamiliar almost, as the gas-jets hissed
+in the silence.
+
+One or two letters were in the box. One envelope bore the Manchester
+post-mark. It was from Basil Gortre. A curious pang, half wonder and
+anticipation, half fear, passed through his mind as he saw the familiar
+handwriting of his friend. But it was a pang for Gortre, not for
+himself. He himself was wholly detached now that the time for action had
+arrived. Personal consideration would come later. At present he was
+starting out on the old trail--"The old trail, the long trail, the trail
+that is always new."
+
+He felt a _man_ again, with a fierce joy and exultation throbbing in all
+his veins after the torpor of the last few weeks.
+
+He sat down at the table, first getting some bread and cheese from a
+cupboard, for he was hungry, and opening a bottle of beer. The beer
+tasted wonderfully good. He laughed exultingly in the flow of his high
+spirits.
+
+He wrote a note to Mrs. Buscall, long since inured to these sudden
+midnight departures, and another to Gortre. To him he said that some
+great and momentous discoveries were made at Jerusalem by Hands, and
+that he himself was starting at once for the Holy City as special
+correspondent for the _Wire_. He would write _en route_, he explained,
+there was no time for any details now.
+
+"Poor chap," he said to himself, "he'll know soon enough now. I hope he
+won't take it very badly."
+
+Then he went into his bedroom and hauled down the great pig-skin
+kit-bag, covered with foreign labels, which had accompanied him half
+over the world.
+
+He packed quickly and completely, the result of long practice. The pads
+of paper, the stylographic pens, with the special ink for hot countries
+which would not dry up or corrode, his revolvers, riding-breeches, boots
+and spurs, the kodak, with spare films and light-tight zinc cases, the
+old sun helmet--he forgot nothing.
+
+When he had finished, and the big bag, with a small Gladstone also, was
+strapped and locked, he changed joyously from the black coat of cities
+into his travelling tweeds of tough cloth. At length everything seemed
+prepared. He sat on the bed and looked round him, willing to be gone.
+
+His eye fell on the opposite wall. A crucifix hung there, carved in
+ebony and ivory. During his short holiday at Dieppe, nearly nine months
+ago now, he had gone into the famous little shop there where carved work
+of all kinds is sold. Basil and Helena were with him and they had all
+bought mementoes. Helena had given him that.
+
+And as he looked at it now he wondered what his journey would bring
+forth. Was he, indeed, chosen out of men to go to this far country to
+tear Christ from that awful and holy eminence of the Cross? Was it to be
+his mission to extinguish the _Lux Mundi_?
+
+As he gazed at the sacred emblem he felt that this could not be.
+
+No, no! a thousand times no. Jesus _had_ risen to save him and all other
+sinners. It _was_ so, must be so, should be so.
+
+The Holy Name was in itself enough. He whispered it to himself. No,
+_that_ was eternally, gloriously true.
+
+Humbly, faithfully, gladly he knelt among the litter of the room and
+said the Lord's Prayer, said it in Latin as he had said it at school--
+
+    _Pater noster!_
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+AVOIDING THE FLOWER PATTERN ON THE CARPET
+
+
+Sir Michael Manichoe, the stay and pillar of "Anglicanism" in the
+English Church, was a man of great natural gifts. The owner of one of
+those colossal Jewish fortunes which, few as they are, have such
+far-reaching influence upon English life, he employed it in a way which,
+for a man in his position, was unique.
+
+He presented the curious spectacle, to sociologists and the world at
+large, of a Jew by origin who had become a Christian by conviction and
+one of the sincerest sons of the English Church as he understood it. In
+political life Sir Michael was a steady, rather than a brilliant, force.
+He had been Home Secretary under a former Conservative administration,
+but had retired from office. At the present moment he was a private
+member for the division in which his country house, Fencastle, stood,
+and he enjoyed the confidence of the chiefs of his party.
+
+His great talent was for organisation, and all his powers in that
+direction were devoted towards the preservation and unification of the
+Church to which he was a convert.
+
+Sir Michael's convictions were perfectly clear and straightforward. He
+believed, with all his heart, in the Catholicity of the Anglican
+persuasion. Roman priests he spoke of as "members of the Italian
+mission"; Nonconformists as "adherents to the lawless bands of Dissent."
+He allowed the validity of Roman orders and spoke of the Pope as the
+"Bishop of Rome," an Italian ecclesiastic with whom the English
+communion had little or nothing to do.
+
+In his intimate and private life Sir Michael lived according to rubric.
+His splendid private chapel at Fencastle enjoyed the services of a
+chaplain, reinforced by priests from a community of Anglican monks which
+Sir Michael had established in an adjacent village. In London, St.
+Mary's was, in some sense, his particular property. He spent fabulous
+sums on the big Bloomsbury Parish and the needs of its great,
+cathedral-like church. There was no vicar in London who enjoyed the
+command of money that Father Ripon enjoyed. Certainly there was no other
+priest in the ranks of the High Churchmen who was the confidential
+friend and spiritual director of so powerful a political and social
+personality.
+
+Yet in his public life Sir Michael was diplomatic enough. He worked
+steadily for one thing, it is true, but he was far too able to allow
+people to call him narrow-minded. The Oriental strain of cunning in his
+blood had sweetened to a wise diplomacy. While he always remembered he
+was a Churchman, he did not forget that to be an effective and helpful
+one he must keep his political and social eminence. And so, whatever
+might take place behind the scenes in the library with Father Ripon, or
+in the Bloomsbury clergy house, the baronet showed the world the face of
+a man of the world, and neither obtruded his private views nor allowed
+them to disturb his colleagues.
+
+The day after the news arrived in Fleet Street from Palestine--while
+nothing was yet known and Harold Spence was rushing through Amiens _en
+route_ for Paris and the East--a house party began to collect at
+Fencastle, the great place in Lincolnshire.
+
+For a day or two a few rather important people were to meet under Sir
+Michael's roof. Now and then the palace in the fen lands was the scene
+of notable gatherings, much talked of in certain circles and commented
+on by people who would truthfully have described themselves as being "in
+the know."
+
+These parties were, indeed, congresses of the eminent, the "big" people
+who quietly control an England which the ignorant and the vulgar love to
+imagine is in the hands of a corrupt society of well-born, "smart," and
+pleasure-seeking people.
+
+The folk who gathered at Fencastle were as remote from the gambling,
+lecherous, rabbit-brained set which glitters so brightly before the eyes
+of the uninformed as any staid, middle-class reader of the popular
+journals.
+
+In this stronghold of English Catholicism--"hot-bed of ritualists" as
+the brawling "Protestant" journals called it, one met a diversity of
+people, widely divided in views and only alike in one thing--the
+dominant quality of their brains and position.
+
+Sir Michael thought it well that even his professed opponents should
+meet at his table, for it gave both him and his lieutenants new data and
+fresh impressions for use in the campaign. Sir Michael's convictions
+were perfectly unalterable, but to find out how others--and those
+hostile--really regarded them only added to the weapons in his armoury.
+
+And, as one London priest once remarked to another, the combination of a
+Jewish brain and a Christian heart was one which had already
+revolutionised Society nearly two thousand years ago in the persons of
+eleven distinguished instances.
+
+As Father Ripon drove to Liverpool Street Station after lunch, to catch
+the afternoon train to the eastern counties, he was reading a letter as
+his cab turned into Cheapside and crawled slowly through the heavy
+afternoon traffic of the city.
+
+     " ... It will be as well for you to see the man _à huisclos_ and
+     form your own opinions. There can be no doubt that he is a force to
+     be reckoned with, and he is, moreover, as I think you will agree
+     after inspection, far more brilliant and able than any other
+     _professed_ antichristian of the front rank. Then there will also
+     be Mrs. Hubert Armstrong. She is a pseudo-intellectual force, but
+     her writings have a certain heaviness and authoritative note which
+     I believe to have real influence with the large class of
+     semi-educated people who mistake an _atmosphere_ of knowledge for
+     knowledge itself. A very charming woman, by the way, and I think
+     sincere. Matthew Arnold and water!
+
+     "The Duke of Suffolk will stop a night on his way home. He writes
+     that he wishes to see you. As you know, he is just back from Rome,
+     and now that they have definitely pronounced against the validity
+     of Anglican orders he is most anxious to have a further chat with
+     you in order to form a working opinion as to _our_ position. From
+     his letter to me, and the extremely interesting account he gives of
+     his interview at the Vatican, I gather that the Roman Church still
+     utterly misunderstands our attitude, and that hopes there are high
+     of the ultimate "conversion" of England. I hope that as a
+     representative of English Churchmen you will be able to define what
+     we think in an unmistakable way. This will have value. Among my
+     other guests you will meet Canon Walke. He is preaching in Lincoln
+     Cathedral on the Sunday, fresh from Windsor. "Render unto Cæsar"
+     will, I allow myself to imagine, not be an unlikely text for his
+     homily.--I am, Father, yours most sincerely,
+
+          "M. M."
+
+Still thinking carefully over Sir Michael's letter, Father Ripon bought
+his ticket and made his way to the platform.
+
+He got into a first-class carriage. While in London the priest lived a
+life of asceticism and simplicity which was not so much a considered
+thing as the outcome of an absolute and unconscious carelessness about
+personal and material comfort; when he went thus to a great country
+house, he complied with convention because it was politic.
+
+He was the grandson of a peer, and, though he laughed at these small
+points, he wished to meet his friend's opinions in any reasonable way,
+rather than to flout them.
+
+The carriage was empty, though a pile of newspapers and a travelling rug
+in one corner showed Father Ripon that he was to have one companion at
+any rate upon the journey.
+
+He had bought the _Church Times_ at the bookstall and was soon deeply
+immersed in the report of a Bampton Lecture delivered during the week at
+the University Church in Oxford.
+
+Some one entered the carriage, the door was shut, and the train began to
+move out of the station, but he was too interested to look up to see who
+his companion might be.
+
+A voice broke in upon his thoughts as they were tearing through the
+wide-spread slums of Bethnal Green.
+
+"Do you mind if I smoke, sir? This isn't a smoking carriage, but we are
+alone----"
+
+It was an ordinary query enough. "Oh, dear, no!" said the priest.
+"Please do, to your heart's content. It doesn't inconvenience _me_."
+
+Father Ripon's quick, breezy manner seemed to interest the stranger. He
+looked up and saw a personality. Obviously this clergyman was some one
+of note. The heavy brows, the hawk-like nose, the large, firm, and yet
+kindly mouth, all these seemed familiar in some vague way.
+
+For his part, Father Ripon experienced much the same sensation as he
+glanced at the tall stranger. His hair, which could be seen beneath his
+ordinary hard felt hat, was dark red and somewhat abundant. His features
+were Semitic, but without a trace of that fulness, and often coarseness,
+which sometimes marks the Jew who has come to the period of middle life.
+The large black eyes were neither dull nor lifeless, but simply cold,
+irresponsive, and alert. A massive jaw completed an impression which was
+remarkable in its fineness and almost sinister beauty.
+
+The priest found it remarkable but with no sense of strangeness. He had
+seen the man before.
+
+Recognition came to Schuabe first.
+
+"Excuse me," he said, "but surely you are Father Ripon? I am Constantine
+Schuabe."
+
+Ripon gave a merry chuckle. "I knew I knew you!" he said, "but I
+couldn't think quite who you were for a moment. Sir Michael tells me
+you're going to Fencastle; so am I."
+
+Schuabe leaned back in his seat and regarded Father Ripon with a steady
+and calm scrutiny, somewhat with the manner of a naturalist examining a
+curious specimen, with a suggestion of aloofness in his eyes.
+
+Suddenly Father Ripon smiled rather sternly, and the deep furrows which
+sprang into his cheeks showed the latent strength and power of the face.
+
+"Well, Mr. Schuabe," he said abruptly, "the train doesn't stop anywhere
+for an hour, so willy-nilly you're locked up with a priest!"
+
+"A welcome opportunity, Father Ripon, to convince one that perhaps the
+devil isn't as black as he's painted."
+
+"I've read your books," said Ripon, "and I believe you are sincere, Mr.
+Schuabe. It's not a personal question at all. At the same time, if I had
+the power, you know I should cheerfully execute you or imprison you for
+life, not out of revenge for what you have done, but as a precautionary
+measure. You should have no further opportunity of doing harm." He
+smiled grimly as he spoke.
+
+"Rather severe, Father," said Schuabe laughing. "Because I find that in
+a rational view of history there is no place for a Resurrection and
+Ascension you would give me your blessing and an _auto da fé_!"
+
+"I rather believe in stern measures, sometimes," answered the clergyman,
+with an underlying seriousness, though he spoke half in jest. "Not for
+_all_ heretics, you know--only the dangerous ones."
+
+"You are afraid of _intellect_ when it is brought to bear on these
+questions."
+
+"I thought that would be your rejoinder. Superficially it is a very
+telling one, because there is nothing so insidious as a half-truth. In a
+sense what you say is true. There are a great many Christians whose
+faith is weak and whose natural inclinations, assisted by supernatural
+temptations, are towards a life of sin. Christianity keeps them from it.
+Now, your books come in the way of such people as these far more readily
+and easily than works of Christian apologetics written with equal power.
+An _attack_ upon our position has all the elements of popularity and
+novelty. _It is more seen._ For example, ten thousand people have heard
+of your _Christ Reconceived_ for every ten who know Lathom's _Risen
+Master_. You have said the last word for agnosticism and made it widely
+public, the Master of Trinity Hall has said the last word for
+Christianity and only scholars know of it. It isn't the strength of your
+case which makes you dangerous, it's the ignorance of the public and a
+condition of affairs which makes it possible for you to shout loudest."
+
+"Well, there is at least a half-truth in what you say also, Mr. Ripon,"
+said Schuabe. "But you don't seem to have brought anything to eat. Will
+you share my luncheon basket? There is quite enough for two people."
+
+Father Ripon had been called away after the early Eucharist, and had
+quite forgotten to have any breakfast.
+
+"Thank you very much," he said; "I will. I suddenly seem to be hungry,
+and after all there is scriptural precedent for spoiling the Egyptians!"
+
+Both laughed again, sheathed their weapons, and began to eat.
+
+Each of them was a man of the world, cultured, with a charming
+personality. Each knew the other was impervious to attack.
+
+Only once, as the short afternoon was darkening and they were
+approaching their destination, did Schuabe refer to controversial
+subjects. The carriage was shadowed and dusky as they rushed through the
+desolate fenlands. The millionaire lit a match for a cigarette, and the
+sudden flare showed the priest's face, set and stern. He seemed to be
+thinking deeply.
+
+"What would you say or do, Father Ripon," Schuabe asked, in a tone of
+interested curiosity,--"What would you do if some stupendous thing were
+to happen, something to occur which proved without doubt that Christ was
+not divine? Supposing that it suddenly became an absolute fact, a
+historical fact which every one must accept?"
+
+"Some new discovery, you mean?"
+
+"Well, if you like; never mind the actual means. Assume for a moment
+that it became certain as an historical fact that the Resurrection did
+not take place. I say that the ignorant love of Christ's followers
+wreathed His life in legend, that the true story was from the beginning
+obscured by error, hysteria, and mistake. Supposing something proved
+what I say in such a way as to leave no loophole for denial. What would
+you do? As a representative Churchman, what would you do? This interests
+me."
+
+"Well, you are assuming an impossibility, and I can't argue on such a
+postulate. But, if for a moment what you say _could_ happen, I might not
+be able to deny these proofs, but I should never believe them."
+
+"But surely----"
+
+"Christ is _within_; I have found Him myself without possibility of
+mistake; day and night I am in communion with Him."
+
+"Ah!" said Schuabe, dryly, "there is no convincing a person who takes
+_that_ attitude. But it is rare."
+
+"Faith is weak in the world," said the priest, with a sigh, as the train
+drew up in the little wayside station.
+
+A footman took their luggage to a carriage which was waiting, and they
+drove off rapidly through the twilight, over the bare brown fen with a
+chill leaden sky meeting it on the horizon, towards Fencastle.
+
+Sir Michael's house was an immemorial feature of those parts. Josiah
+Manichoe, his father, had bought it from old Lord Lostorich. To this day
+Sir Michael paid two pounds each year, as "Knight's fee," to the lord of
+the manor at Denton, a fee first paid in 1236. As it stood now, the
+house was Tudor in exterior, covering a vast area with its stately,
+explicit, and yet homelike, rather than "homely," beauty.
+
+The interior of the house was treated with great judgment and artistic
+ability. A successful effort had been made to combine the greatest
+measure of modern comfort without unduly disturbing the essential
+character of the place. Thus Father Ripon found himself in an ancient
+bedroom with a painted ceiling and panelled walls. The furniture was in
+keeping with the design, but electric lamps had been fitted to the
+massive pewter sconces on the wall, and the towel-rail by the
+washing-stand was made of copper tubing through which hot water passed
+constantly.
+
+The dinner-gong boomed at eight and Ripon went down into the great hall,
+where a group of people were standing round an open fire of peat and
+coal.
+
+Mrs. Bardilly, a widowed sister of Sir Michael's, acted as hostess, a
+quiet, matronly woman, very Jewish in aspect, shrewd and placid in
+temper, an admirable _châtelaine_.
+
+Talking to her was Mrs. Hubert Armstrong, the famous woman novelist.
+Mrs. Armstrong was tall and grandly built. Her grey hair was drawn over
+a massive, manlike brow in smooth folds, her face was finely chiselled.
+The mouth was large, rather sweet in expression, but with a slight
+hinting of "superiority" in repose and condescension in movement. When
+she spoke, always in full, well-chosen periods, it was with an air of
+somewhat final pronouncement. She was ever _ex cathedra_.
+
+The lady's position was a great one. Every two or three years she
+published a weighty novel, admirably written, full of real culture, and
+without a trace of humour. In those productions, treatises rather than
+novels, the theme was generally that of a high-bred philosophical
+negation of the Incarnation. Mrs. Armstrong pitied Christians with
+passionate certainty. Gently and lovingly she essayed to open blinded
+eyes to the truth. With great condescension she still believed in God
+and preached Christ as a mighty teacher.
+
+One of her utterances suffices to show the colossal arrogance--almost
+laughable were it not so _bizarre_--of her intellect:
+
+     "_The world has expanded since Jesus preached in the dim ancient
+     cities of the East. Men and women of to-day cannot learn the_
+     complete _lesson of God from him now--indeed they could not in
+     those old times. But all that is most necessary in forming
+     character, all that makes for pureness and clarity of soul--this
+     Jesus has still for us as he had for the people of his own time._"
+
+After the enormous success of her book, _John Mulgrave_, Mrs. Armstrong
+more than half believed she had struck a final blow at the errors of
+Christianity.
+
+Shrewd critics remarked that _John Mulgrave_ described the perversion of
+the hero with great skill and literary power, while quite forgetting to
+recapitulate the arguments which had brought it about.
+
+The woman was really educated, but her success was with half-educated
+readers. Her works excited to a sort of frenzy clergymen who realised
+their insidious hollowness. Her success was real; her influence appeared
+to be real also. It was a deplorable fact that she swayed fools.
+
+By laying on the paint very thick and using bright colours, Mrs.
+Armstrong caught the class immediately below that which read the works
+of Constantine Schuabe. They were captain and lieutenant, formidable in
+coalition.
+
+A short, carelessly dressed man--his evening tie was badly arranged and
+his trousers were ill cut--was the Duke of Suffolk. His face was covered
+with dust-coloured hair, his eyes bright and restless. The Duke was the
+greatest Roman Catholic nobleman in England. His vast wealth and eager,
+though not first-class, brain were devoted entirely to the conversion of
+the country. He was beloved by men of all creeds.
+
+Canon Walke, the great popular preacher, was a handsome man, portly,
+large, and gracious in manner. He was destined for high preferment, a
+_persona grata_ at Court, suave and redolent of the lofty circles in
+which he moved.
+
+Canon Walke was talking to Schuabe with great animation and a sort of
+purring geniality.
+
+Dinner was a very pleasant meal. Every one talked well. Great events in
+Society and politics were discussed by the people who were themselves
+responsible for them.
+
+Here was the inner circle itself, serene, bland, and guarded from the
+crowd outside. And perhaps, with the single exception of Father Ripon,
+who never thought about it at all, every one was pleasantly conscious of
+pulling the strings. They sat, Jove-like, kindly tolerant of lesser
+mortals, discussing, over a dessert, what they should do for the world.
+
+At eleven nearly every one had retired for the night. Father Ripon and
+his host sat talking in the library for another hour discussing church
+matters. At twelve these two also retired.
+
+And now the great house was silent save for the bitter winter wind which
+sobbed and moaned round the towers.
+
+It was the eve of the twelfth of December. The world was as usual and
+the night came to England with no hintings of the morrow.
+
+Far away in Lancashire, Basil Gortre was sleeping calmly after a long,
+quiet evening with Helena and her father.
+
+Father Ripon had said his prayers and lay half dreaming in bed, watching
+the firelight glows and shadows on the panelling and listening to the
+fierce outside wind as if it were a lullaby.
+
+Mrs. Hubert Armstrong was touching up an article for the _Nineteenth
+Century_ in her bedroom. An open volume of Renan stood by her side; here
+and there the lady deftly paraphrased a few lines. Occasionally she
+sipped a cup of black-currant tea--an amiable weakness of this paragon
+when engaged upon her stirring labours.
+
+In the next room Schuabe, with haggard face and twitching lips, paced
+rapidly up and down. From the door to the dressing-table--seven steps.
+From there to the fireplace--ten steps--avoiding the flower pattern of
+the carpet, stepping only on the blue squares. Seven! ten! and then back
+again.
+
+Ten, seven, turn. A cold, soft dew came out upon his face, dried,
+hardened, and burst forth again.
+
+Seven, ten, stop for a glass of water, and then on again, rapidly,
+hurriedly; the dawn is coming very near.
+
+Ten! seven! turn!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+"I, JOSEPH"
+
+
+At about nine o'clock the next morning there was a knock at Father
+Ripon's door and Lindner, Sir Michael's confidential man, entered.
+
+He seemed slightly agitated.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Father," he said, "but Sir Michael instructed me to
+come to you at once. Sir Michael begs that you will read the columns
+marked in this paper and then join him at once in his own room."
+
+The man bowed slightly and went noiselessly away.
+
+Impressed with Lindner's manner, Father Ripon sat up in bed and opened
+the paper. It was a copy of the _Daily Wire_ which had just arrived by
+special messenger from the station.
+
+The priest's eyes fell first upon the news summary. A paragraph was
+heavily scored round with ink.
+
+     "_Page 7._--A communication of the utmost gravity and importance
+     reaches us from Palestine, dealing with certain discoveries at
+     Jerusalem, made by Mr. Cyril Hands, the agent of the Palestine
+     Exploring Fund, and Herr Schmöulder, the famous German historian."
+
+Ripon turned hastily to the seventh page of the paper, where all the
+foreign telegrams were. This is what he read:
+
+     "NOTE
+
+     "_In reference to the following statements, the Editor wishes it to
+     be distinctly understood that he prints them without comment or
+     bias. Nothing can yet be definitely known as to the truth of what
+     is stated here until the strictest investigations have been made.
+     Our special Commissioner left London for the East twenty-four hours
+     ago. The Editor of this paper is in communication with the Prime
+     Minister and His Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury. A special
+     edition of the 'Daily Wire' will be published at two o'clock this
+     afternoon._
+
+     "MOMENTOUS NEWS FROM JERUSALEM
+
+     "For the last three months, under a new firman granted by the
+     Turkish Government, the authorities of the Palestine Exploring
+     Society have been engaged in extensive operations in the waste
+     ground beyond the Damascus Gate at Jerusalem.
+
+     "It is in this quarter, as archæologists and students will be
+     aware, that some years ago the reputed site of Calvary and the Holy
+     Sepulchre was placed. Considerable discussion was raised at the
+     time and the evidence for and against the new and the traditional
+     sites was hotly debated.
+
+     "Ten days ago, Mr. Cyril Hands, M.A., the learned and trusted
+     English explorer, made a further discovery which may prove to be
+     far-reaching in its influence on Christian peoples.
+
+     "During the excavations a system of tombs were discovered, dating
+     from forty or fifty years before Christ, according to Mr. Hands's
+     estimate. The tombs are indisputably Jewish and not Christian, a
+     fact which is proved by the presence of _kôkîm_, characteristic of
+     Jewish tombs in preference to the usual Christian _arcosolia_. They
+     are Herodian in character.
+
+     "These tombs consist of an irregularly cut group of two chambers.
+     The door is coarsely moulded. Both chambers are crooked, and in
+     their floors are four-sided depressions, 1 foot 2 inches deep in
+     the outer, 2 feet in the inner chamber. The roof of the outer
+     chamber is 6 feet above its floor, that of the inner 5 feet 2
+     inches.
+
+     "The doorway leading to the inner tomb was built up into stone
+     blocks. Fragments of that coating of broken brick and pounded
+     pottery, which is still used in Palestine under the name _hamra_,
+     which lay at the foot of the sealed entrance, showed that it had at
+     one time been plastered over, and was in the nature of a secret
+     room.
+
+     "In the depression in the floor of the outer room was found a
+     minute fragment of a glass receptacle containing a small quantity
+     of blackish powder. This has been analysed by M. Constant Allard,
+     the French chemist. The glass vessel he found to be an ordinary
+     silicate which had become devitrified and coloured by oxide of
+     iron. The contents were finely divided lead and traces of antimony,
+     showing it to be one of the cosmetics prepared for purposes of
+     sepulture.
+
+     "When the interior of the second tomb had been reached, a single
+     _loculus_ or stone slab for the reception of a body was found.
+
+     "Over the _loculus_ the following Greek inscription in uncial
+     characters was found in a state of good preservation, with the
+     exception of two letters:
+
+     "[_See drawing of inscription on this page, made from photographs
+     in our possession. We print the inscription below in cursive Greek
+     text, afterwards dividing it into its component words and giving
+     its translation.--Editor, Daily Wire._]
+
+
+     FACSIMILE IN MODERN GREEK SCRIPT
+
+     Εγωιωσηφοαποαριμαθειαςλαβω
+     ντοσωματουιησουτουαπονα**
+     ρεταποτουμνημειουοπουτοπρωτ
+     ονεκειτοεντωτοπωτουτωενεκρυψα
+
+     **=lacunæ of two letters.
+
+
+     FINAL READING OF THE INSCRIPTION
+
+     Εγω Ιωσηφ ὁ ἀπο Αριμαθειας λαβων το σωμα του Ιησου
+     του ἀπο Να[ζα]ρετ ἀπο του μνημειου ὁπου το πρωτον
+     ἐκειτο ἐν τω τοπω τουτω ἐνεκρυψα
+
+     [] = letters supplied.
+
+
+     "TRANSLATION INTO ENGLISH OF THE INSCRIPTION
+
+     "I, JOSEPH OF ARIMATHÆA, TOOK THE BODY OF
+     JESUS, THE NAZARENE, FROM THE TOMB WHERE IT
+     WAS FIRST LAID AND HID IT IN THIS PLACE.
+
+
+     "The slight mould on the stone slab, which may or may not be that
+     of a decomposed body, has been reverently gathered into a sealed
+     vessel by Mr. Hands, who is waiting instructions.
+
+     "Dr. Schmöulder, the famous _savant_ from Berlin, has arrived at
+     Jerusalem, and is in communication with the German Emperor
+     regarding the discovery.
+
+     "At present it would be presumptuous and idle to comment upon these
+     stupendous facts. It seems our duty, however, to quote a final
+     passage from Mr. Hands's communication, and to state that we have a
+     cablegram in our possession from Dr. Schmöulder, which states that
+     he is in entire agreement with Mr. Hands's conclusions.
+
+     "To sum up. There now seems no shadow of doubt that the
+     disappearance of The Body of Christ from the first tomb is
+     accounted for, and that the Resurrection as told in the Gospels did
+     not take place. Joseph of Arimathæa here confesses that he stole
+     away the body, probably in order to spare the Disciples and friends
+     of the dead Teacher, with whom he was in sympathy, the shame and
+     misery of the final end to their hopes.
+
+     "The use of the first aorist 'ἐνεκρυψα,' 'I hid,' seems to
+     indicate that Joseph was making a confession to satisfy his own
+     mind, with a very vague idea of it ever being read. Were his
+     confession written for future ages, we may surmise that the perfect
+     'κεκρυφα,' 'I have hidden,' would have been used."
+
+So the simple, bald narrative ended, without a single attempt at
+sensationalism on the part of the newspaper.
+
+Just as Father Ripon laid down the newspaper, with shaking hands and a
+pallid face, Sir Michael Manichoe strode into the room.
+
+Tears of anger and shame were in his eyes, he moved jerkily,
+automatically, without volition. His right arm was sawing the air in
+meaningless gesticulation.
+
+He glanced furtively at Father Ripon and then sank into a chair by the
+bedside.
+
+The clergyman rose and dressed hastily. "We will speak of this in the
+library," he said, controlling himself by a tremendous effort.
+"Meanwhile----"
+
+He took some sal volatile from his dressing-case, gave some to his host,
+and drank some also.
+
+As they went down-stairs a brilliant sun streamed into the great hall.
+The world outside was bright and frost-bound.
+
+The bell of the private chapel was tolling for matins.
+
+The sound struck on both their brains very strangely. Sir Michael
+shuddered and grew ashen grey. Ripon recovered himself first.
+
+He placed his arm in his host's and turned towards the passage which led
+to the chapel.
+
+"Come, my friend," he said in low, sweet tones, "come to the altar. Let
+us pray together for Christendom. Peace waits us. Say the creed with me,
+for God will not desert us."
+
+They passed into the vaulted chapel with the seven dim lamps burning
+before the altar, and knelt down in the chancel stalls. Some of the
+servants came in and then the chaplain began the confession.
+
+The stately monotone went on, echoing through the damp breath of the
+morning.
+
+Father Ripon and Sir Michael turned to the east. The sun was pouring
+through the great window of stained glass, where Christ was painted
+ascending to heaven.
+
+The two elderly men said the creed after the priest in firm, almost
+triumphant voices:
+
+"I believe in God the Father ... and in Jesus Christ His only Son our
+Lord.... The third day he arose again from the dead. He ascended into
+heaven...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And those two, as they came gravely out of church and walked to the
+library, _knew_ that a great and awful lie was resounding through the
+world, for the Risen Christ had spoken with them, bidding them be of
+good courage for what was to come.
+
+The voice of Peter called down the ages:
+
+     "This Jesus hath God raised up, whereof we are all witnesses."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE DOMESTIC CHAPLAIN'S TESTIMONY
+
+
+When Mrs. Armstrong came down to breakfast her hostess told her, with
+many apologies, that Sir Michael had left for London with Father Ripon.
+They had gone by an early train. Matters of great moment were afoot.
+
+As this was being explained Mr. Wilson, the private chaplain, Schuabe,
+and Canon Walke entered the room. The Duke of Suffolk did not appear.
+
+A long, low room panelled in white, over which a huge fire of logs cast
+occasional cheery reflections, was used as a breakfast-room. Here and
+there the quiet simplicity of the place was violently disturbed by great
+gouts of colour, startling notes which, so cunningly had they been
+arranged in alternate opulence and denial, were harmonised with their
+background.
+
+A curtain of Tyrian purple, a sea picture full of gloom and glory, red
+light and wind; a bronze head, with brilliant, lifelike enamel eyes, the
+features swollen and brutal, from Sabacio--these were the means used by
+the young artist employed by Sir Michael to decorate the room.
+
+The long windows, hewn out of a six-foot wall, presented a sombre vista
+of great leafless trees standing in the trackless snow, touched here and
+there with the ruddiness of the winter sun.
+
+The glowing fire, the luxurious domesticity of the round table, with
+its shining silver and gleaming china, the great quiet of the park
+outside, gave a singular peace and remoteness to the breakfast-room.
+Here one seemed far away from strife and disturbance.
+
+This was the usual aspect and atmosphere of all Fencastle, but as the
+members of the house-party came together for the meal the air became
+suddenly electrified. Invisible waves of excitement, of surmise, doubt,
+and fear radiated from these humans. All had seen the paper, and though
+at first not one of them referred to it, the currents of tumult and
+alarm were knocking loudly at heart and brain, varied and widely diverse
+as were the emotions of each one.
+
+Mrs. Hubert Armstrong at length broke the silence. Her speech was
+deliberate, her words were chosen with extreme care, her tone was hushed
+and almost reverential.
+
+"To-day," she said, "what I perceive we have all heard, may mean the
+sudden dawning of a New Light in the world. If this stupendous statement
+is true--and it bears every hall-mark of the truth even at this early
+stage--a new image of Jesus of Nazareth will be for ever indelibly
+graven on the hearts of mankind. That image which thought, study, and
+research have already made so vivid to some of us will be common to the
+world. The old, weary superstitions will vanish for all time. The real
+significance of the anthropomorphic view will be clear at last. The
+world will be able to realise the Real Figure as It went in and out
+among Its brother men."
+
+She spoke with extreme earnestness. No doubt she saw in this marvellous
+historical confirmation of her attitude a triumph for the school of
+which she had become the vocal chieftainess, that would ring and glitter
+through the world of thought. The mental arrogance which had already led
+this woman so far was already busy, opening a vista that had suddenly
+become extremely dazzling, imminently near.
+
+At her words there was a sudden movement of relief among the others. The
+ice had been broken; formless and terrifying things assumed a shape that
+could be handled, discussed. Her words acted as a precipitate, which
+made analysis possible.
+
+The lady's calm, intellectual face, with its clear eyes and smooth bands
+of hair, waited with interest, but without impatience, for other views.
+
+Canon Walke took up her challenge. His words were assured enough, but
+Schuabe, listening with keen and sinister attention, detected a faint
+tremble, an alarmed lack of conviction. The courtier-Churchman, with his
+commanding presence, his grand manner, spoke without pedantry, but also
+without real force. His language was beautifully chosen, but it had not
+the ring of utter conviction, of passionate rejection of all that warred
+with Faith.
+
+A chaplain of the Court, the husband of an earl's daughter, a friend of
+royal folk, a future bishop, there were those who called him
+time-serving, exclusively ambitious. Schuabe realised that not here,
+indeed, was the great champion of Christianity. For a brief moment the
+Jew's mind flashed to a memory of the young curate at Manchester, then,
+with a little shudder of dislike, he bent his attention to Canon Walke's
+words.
+
+"No, Mrs. Armstrong," he was saying, "an article such as this in a
+newspaper will be dangerous; it will unsettle weak brains for a time
+until it is proved, as it will be proved, either a blasphemous
+fabrication or an ignorant mistake. It cannot be. Whatever the upshot of
+such rumours, they can only have a temporary effect. It may be that
+those at the head of the Church will have to sit close, to lay firm hold
+of principles, or anything that will steady the vessel as the storm
+sweeps up. This may be an even greater tempest than that which broke
+upon the Church in the days of the first George, when Christianity was
+believed to be fictitious. What did Bishop Butler say to his chaplain?
+He asked: 'What security is there against the insanity of individuals?
+The doctors know of none. Why, therefore, may not whole communities be
+seized with fits of insanity as well as individuals?' It is just that
+which will account for so much history tells us of wild revolt against
+Truth. It may be--God grant that it will not--that we are once more upon
+the eve of one of these storms. But, despite your anticipations, Mrs.
+Armstrong, you will see that the Church, as she has ever done, will
+weather the storm. I myself shall leave for town at mid-day, and follow
+the example of our host. My place is there. The Archbishop will,
+doubtless, hold a conference, if this story from Palestine seems to
+receive further confirmation. Such dangerous heresies must not be
+allowed to spread."
+
+Then Schuabe took up the discussion. "I fear for you, Canon Walke," he
+said, "and for the Church you represent. This news, it seems to me, is
+merely the evidence for the confirmation of what all thoughtful men
+believe to-day, though the majority of them do not speak out. There is a
+natural dislike to active propaganda, a timidity in combination to upset
+a system which is accepted, and which provides society as an ethical
+programme, though founded on initial error. But now--and I agree with
+Mrs. Armstrong in the extreme probability of this news being absolute
+fact, for Hands and Schmöulder are names of weight--everything must be
+reconstructed and changed. The churches will go. Surely the times are
+ripe, the signs unmistakable? We are face to face with what is called an
+anti-clerical wave--a dislike to the clergy as the representatives of
+the Church, a dislike to the Church as the embodiment of religion, a
+dislike to religion as an unwelcome restraint upon liberty of thought.
+The storm which will burst now has been muttering and gathering here in
+England no less than on the Continent. You have heard its murmur in the
+debates on the Education Act, in the proposed State legislation for your
+Church. Your most venerable and essential forms are like trees creaking
+and groaning in the blast; public opinion is rioting to destroy. But
+perhaps until this morning it has never had a weapon strong enough to
+attack such a stronghold as the Church with any hope of victory. There
+has been much noise, but that is all. It has been a matter of _feeling_;
+_conviction_ has been weak, because it could only be supported by
+probabilities, not by certainties. The antichristian movement has been
+guided by emotions, hardly by principles. At last the great discovery
+which will rouse the world to sanity appears to have been made. Even as
+I speak in this quiet room the whole world is thrilling with this news.
+It is awakening from a long slumber."
+
+Walke heard his ringing words with manifest uneasiness. The man was
+unequal to the situation. He represented the earthly pomp and show of
+Christianity, wore the ceremonial vestments. He feared the concrete
+power, the vehement opposition of the mouthpiece of secularism. He saw
+the crisis, but from one side only. The deep spiritual love was not
+there.
+
+"You are exultant, Mr. Schuabe," he said coldly, "but you will hardly be
+so long."
+
+"You do not appreciate the situation, sir," Schuabe answered. "I can see
+further than you. A great intellectual peace will descend over the
+civilised world. Should one not exult at that, even though men must give
+up their dearest fetishes, their secret shrines; even though sentiment
+must be sacrificed to Truth? The religion of Nature, which is based
+upon the determination not to believe anything which is unsupported by
+indubitable evidence, will become the faith of the future, the
+fulfilment of progress. It is as Huxley said, '_Religion ought to mean
+simply reverence and love for the Ethical Ideal, and the desire to
+realise that Ideal in life._' Miracles do not happen. There has been no
+supernatural revelation, and nothing can be known of what Herbert
+Spencer calls the Infinite and Eternal Energy save by the study of the
+phenomena about us. And I repeat that the discovery we hear of to-day
+makes a thorough intellectual sanity possible for each living man. Doubt
+will disappear."
+
+"Yes, Mr. Schuabe," said Mrs. Armstrong, "you are right, incalculably
+right. It is to human intellect and that alone--the great Intellect of
+The Nazarene among others--that we must look from henceforth. Already by
+his unaided efforts man's achievements are everywhere breaking down
+superstition. The arts, the laws of gravitation, force, light, heat,
+sound, chemistry, electricity, and all that these imply--botany,
+medicine, bacteria, the circulation of the blood, the functions of the
+brain and nervous system (last-named abolishing all witchcraft and
+diabolic possession, such as we read of in the 'inspired' writings)--all
+these are but incidents in a progress never aided by the supernatural,
+but always impeded by the professors of it. Christians tortured the man
+who discovered the rotation of the earth, and in every church to-day
+absolutely false accounts of the origin of the world are publicly read.
+And as long as the world was content to believe that Jesus rose from the
+dead so long error has hindered development."
+
+"Yes," replied Schuabe, "all this will, I believe, inevitably follow the
+discovery of the professors in Palestine. And what does Christianity, as
+it is at present accepted, bring to the Christians? Localise it, and
+look at the English Church--Canon Walke's Church. At one time every one
+is a rigid Puritan and decries the bare accessories of worship, at
+another a Ritualist who twists and turns everything into fantastic
+shapes, as if he were furnishing an æsthetic bazaar. At another time
+these people are swayed with the doctrines of 'Christian Science,' and
+believe that pain is a pure trick of the diseased fancy, and matter the
+morbid creation of an unhealthy mind. Then we hear priests who tell us
+that the Old Testament (which in the same breath they announce to be
+witnessed to by Christ and His Apostles and the unbroken continuity of
+the Catholic Church) is an enlarged and plagiarised version of the days
+of a fantastic god discovered on a burnt brick at Babylon. And others
+sit anxiously waiting to know the precise value which this or that
+Gospel may possess, as its worth fluctuates like shares in the money
+market, with the last quotation from Germany! All this will cease."
+
+The while these august ones had been speaking, Father Wilson, the
+domestic chaplain at Fencastle, had remained silent but attentive.
+
+He was a lean, dark man, monk-like in appearance, somewhat saturnine on
+the surface. It was Sir Michael's wish, not the chaplain's, that he
+should sit with the guests as one of them, and make experience of the
+great ones of the world. For he had but little interest in worldly
+things or people.
+
+Schuabe's voice died away. Every one was a little exhausted, great
+matters had been dealt with. There came a little clink and clatter as
+they sought food.
+
+Suddenly Wilson looked up and began to speak. His voice was somewhat
+harsh and unsympathetic, his manner was uncompromising and without
+charm. As he spoke every one realised, with a sense of unpleasant
+shock, that he cared little or nothing for the society he was in.
+
+"It's very interesting, sir," he said, turning to Schuabe, "to hear all
+you have been saying. I have seen the paper and read of this so-called
+discovery too. Of course such a thing harmonises exactly with the
+opinions of those who want to believe it. But go and tell a devoted son
+of the Church that he has been fed with sacraments which are no
+sacraments, and all that he has done has been at best the honest mistake
+of a deceived man, and he will laugh in your face, as I do! There are
+memories, far back in his life, of confirmation, when his whole being
+was quickened and braced, which refuse to be explained as the
+hallucinations of a well-meaning but deceived man. There are memories
+when Christ drew near to his soul and helped him. Struggles with
+temptation are remembered when God's grace saved him. He also says,
+'Whether He be a sorcerer or not I know not; one thing I know, that
+whereas I was blind, now I see.' It is easy to part with one in whom we
+have never really believed. We can easily surrender what we have never
+held. But you haven't a notion of the real Christian's convictions, Mr.
+Schuabe. Your estimate of the future is based upon utter ignorance of
+the Christian's heart. You are incapable of understanding the heart to
+which experience has made it clear that Jesus was indeed the very
+Christ. There are many people who are _called_ Christians with whom your
+sayings and writings, and those of this lady here, have great power. It
+is because they have never found Christ. Unreal words, shallow emotions,
+unbalanced sentiment, leave such as these without armour in a time of
+tumult and conflicting cries. But if we _know_ Him, if we can look back
+over a life richer and fuller because we _have_ known Him, if we know,
+every man, the plague of his own heart, then your explorers may
+discover anything and we shall not believe. It is easy to prophesy as
+you have been doing all this meal-time--it is popular once more to shout
+the malignant 'Crucify'--but events will show you how utterly wrong you
+are in your estimate of the Christian character."
+
+They all stared at the chaplain. His sudden vigorous outburst, the
+harsh, unlovely voice, the contempt in it, was almost stupefying at
+first.
+
+Indeed, though they had certainly no cue from Sir Michael, they had
+regarded the silent, rather forbidding priest, in his cassock and robe,
+a dress which typified his reserve and detachment from all their
+interests, in the light of an upper servant, almost. Nor was it so much
+his interference they resented as his manner of interfering. The supreme
+confidence of the man galled them; it was patronising in its strength.
+
+Mrs. Armstrong heard the outburst with a slight frown of displeasure,
+which, as the priest continued, changed into a smile of kindly
+tolerance, the attitude of a housemaid who spares a spider. She
+remembered that, after all, her duty lay in being kind to those of less
+power than herself.
+
+The speech touched Schuabe more nearly. He seemed to hear a familiar
+echo of a voice he hated and feared. There was something chilling in
+these men who drew a confidence and certainty, sublime in its
+immobility, from the Unseen. He felt, as he had felt before, the hated
+barrier which he could in no wise pass, this calm fanaticism which would
+not even listen to him, which was beyond his influence. The bitter hate
+which welled up in his heart, the terrible scorn which he had to repress
+at these insults to his evil and devilish egoism, gave him almost a
+sense of physical nausea. His pale face became pallid, but he showed no
+other sign of the insane tempest within. He smiled slightly. That was
+all.
+
+As for Canon Walke, his feelings were varied. His face flickered with
+them in rapid alternation. He was quite conscious of the lack of life,
+fire, and conviction in what he himself had said. His own windy
+commonplaces shrank to nothingness and failure before the witnessing of
+the undistinguished priest. Before the two hostile intellects, the man
+and the woman, he had left the burden of the fight to this nobody. He
+was quick and jealous to mark the strength of Wilson's words, and his
+own failure had put him in an entirely false position. And yet a shrewd
+blow had been struck at Schuabe and Mrs. Armstrong; there was
+consolation in the fact.
+
+Father Wilson, when he had finished what he had to say, rose from his
+seat without more ado. "I will say a grace," he said. He made the sign
+of the Cross, muttered a short Latin thanksgiving, and strode from the
+room.
+
+"A fanatic," said Mrs. Armstrong.
+
+Neither Walke nor Schuabe replied.
+
+It was getting late in the morning. The sun had risen higher and flooded
+the level wastes of snow without. The little party finished their meal
+in silence.
+
+In the chapel Wilson knelt on the chancel step, praying that help and
+light might come to men and the imminent darkness pass away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+DEUS, DEUS MEUS, QUARE DERELIQUISTI!
+
+
+The Prime Minister was a man deeply interested in all philosophic
+thought, and especially in the Christian system of philosophy. He had
+written two most important books, weighty, brilliant contributions to
+the mass of thought by which his school laboured to make theism
+increasingly credible to the modern mind.
+
+He had proved that science, ethics, and theology are all open to the
+same kind of metaphysical difficulties, and that, therefore, to reject
+theology in the name of science was impossible. It was fortunate that,
+at this juncture, such a one should be at the head of affairs.
+
+The vast network of cables and telegraph wires, those tentacles which
+may be called the nerves of the world's brain, throbbed unceasingly
+after the tremendous announcement for which Ommaney had undertaken the
+responsibility.
+
+A battalion of special correspondents from every European and American
+paper of importance followed hot upon Harold Spence's trail.
+
+Nevertheless, for the first two or three days the world at large hardly
+realised the importance of what was happening. Nothing was certain. The
+whole statement depended upon two men. To the mass of people these two
+names--Hands, Schmöulder--conveyed no meaning whatever. Nine tenths of
+the population of England knew nothing of the work of archæologists in
+Palestine, had never even heard of the Exploring Society.
+
+Had Consols fallen a point or two the effect would have been far
+greater, the fact would have made more stir.
+
+The great dailies of equal standing with the _Wire_ were making every
+private preparation for a supply of news and a consensus of opinion. But
+all this activity went on behind the scenes, and nothing of it was yet
+allowed to transpire generally. The article in the _Wire_ was quoted
+from, but opinions upon it were printed with the greatest caution and
+reserve. Indeed, the general apathy of England at large was a source of
+extreme wonder to the unthinking, fearing minority.
+
+The mass of the clergy, at any rate in public, affected to ignore, or
+did really honestly dismiss as impossible, the whole question. A few
+words of earnest exhortation and indignant denial were all they
+permitted themselves.
+
+But beneath the surface, and among the real influencers of public
+opinion, great anxiety was felt.
+
+The Patriarch of the Greek Church called a council of Bishops, and Dr.
+Procopides, an ephor of antiquities from Athens, was sent immediately to
+Palestine.
+
+The following paragraph, in substance, appeared in the leader page of
+all the English papers. It was disseminated by the Press Association:
+
+     "We are in a position to state, that in order to allay the feeling
+     of uneasiness produced among the churches by a recent article in
+     the _Daily Wire_ making extraordinary statements as to a discovery
+     in Jerusalem, a conference was held yesterday at Lambeth. Their
+     Graces the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, the Bishops of
+     Manchester, Gloucester, Durham, Lincoln, and London were present.
+     Other well-known Churchmen consisted of Sir Michael Manichoe, Lord
+     Robert Verulam, Canons Baragwaneth and Walke, the Dean of
+     Christchurch and the Master of Trinity Hall. The Prime Minister was
+     not present, but was represented by Mr. Alured King. Mr. Ommaney,
+     the editor of the _Daily Wire_, was included in the conference.
+     Although, from the names mentioned, it will be seen that the
+     conference is considered to be of great importance, nothing has
+     been allowed to transpire as to the result of its deliberations."
+
+This paragraph appeared on the morning of the third day after the
+initial article. It began to attract great attention throughout the
+United Kingdom during the early part of the day.
+
+The _Westminster Gazette_ in its third edition then published a further
+statement. The public learned:
+
+     "Professor Clermont-Ganneau, the Professor of Biblical Antiquities
+     at the French University of La Sorbonne, arrived in London
+     yesterday night. He drove straight to the house of Sir Robert
+     Llwellyn, the famous archæologist. Early this morning both
+     gentlemen drove to Downing Street, where they remained closeted
+     with the Prime Minister for an hour. While there, they were joined
+     by Dr. Grier, the learned Bishop of Leeds, and Dr. Carr, the Warden
+     of Wyckham College, Oxford. The four gentlemen were later driven to
+     Charing Cross Station in a brougham. On the platform from which the
+     Paris train starts they were met by Major-General Adams, the
+     Vice-President of the Palestine Exploring Society, and Sir Michael
+     Manichoe. The distinguished party entered a reserved saloon and
+     left, _en route_ for Paris, at mid-day. We are able to state on
+     undeniable authority that the party, which represents all that is
+     most authoritative in historical research and archæological
+     knowledge, are a committee from a recent conference at Lambeth, and
+     are proceeding to Jerusalem to investigate the alleged discovery in
+     the Holy City."
+
+This was the prominent announcement, made on the afternoon of the third
+day, which began to quicken interest and excite the minds of people in
+England.
+
+All that evening countless families discussed the information with
+curious unrest and foreboding. In all the towns the churches were
+exceptionally full at evensong. One fact was more discussed than any
+other, more particularly in London.
+
+Although the six men who had left England so suddenly, almost furtively,
+were obviously on a mission of the highest importance, no reputable
+paper published more than the bare fact of their departure. Comment upon
+it, more detailed explanation of it, was sought in the columns of all
+the journals in vain.
+
+The next morning was big with shadow and gloom. A shudder passed over
+the country. Certain telegrams appeared in all the papers which struck a
+chill of fear to the very heart of all who read them, Christian and
+indifferent alike.
+
+It was as though a great and ominous bell had begun to toll over the
+world.
+
+The faces of people in the streets were universally pale.
+
+It was remarked that the noises of London, the traffic, the movement of
+crowds engaged upon their daily business, lost half their noise.
+
+The shops were full of Christmas gifts, but no one seemed to enter them.
+
+In addition to the telegrams a single leading article appeared in the
+_Daily Wire_, which burnt itself, as the extremest cold burns, into the
+brains of Englishmen.
+
+
+     "(1) TERRIBLE RIOTS IN JERUSALEM
+
+     "The French Consul-General and Staff, who were paying a ceremonial
+     visit to the Latin Patriarch, have been attacked by fanatical
+     Moslems, and only escaped from the fury of the crowd with great
+     difficulty, aided by the Turkish Guards. A vast concourse of
+     Armenian Christians, Russian pilgrims, and Aleppine Greeks
+     afterwards gathered round the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The
+     strange discovery said to have been made by the English excavator,
+     Mr. Hands, and the German Doctor Schmöulder, has aroused the mob to
+     furious protest against it. For nearly an hour fervent cries of
+     '_Hadda Kuber Saidna_,' 'This is the tomb of our Lord,' filled all
+     the air. The Mohammedans and lower-class Jews made a wild attack
+     upon the protesting Christians in the courtyard of the church. Many
+     hundreds are dead and dying.
+
+          "REUTER."
+
+     "LATER.--Strong drafts of Turkish troops have marched into
+     Jerusalem. By special order from the Sultan to the Governor of the
+     city, the 'New Tomb,' discovered by Mr. Hands and Doctor
+     Schmöulder, is guarded by a triple cordon of troops. The two
+     gentlemen are guests of the Governor. The concentration of troops
+     round the 'New Tomb' has left various portions of the city
+     unguarded. Naked Mohammedan fanatics, armed with swords, are
+     calling for a general massacre of Christians. The city is in a
+     state of utter anarchy. By the Jaffa gate and round the Mosque of
+     Omar the dervishes are preaching massacre."
+
+
+     "(2) SIR ROBERT LLWELLYN'S PARTY TO BE CONVEYED IN A WAR-SHIP
+
+     "MALTA.--Orders have been received here from the Admiralty that the
+     gunboat _Velox_ is to proceed at once to Alexandria, there to
+     await the coming of Sir Robert Llwellyn and the other members of
+     the English Commission by the Indian mail steamer from Brindisi.
+     The _Velox_ will then leave at once for Jaffa with the six
+     gentlemen. At Jaffa an escort of mounted Turkish troops will
+     accompany the party on the day's ride to Jerusalem."
+
+
+     "(3) BERLIN.--The German Emperor has convened the principal clergy
+     of the empire to meet him in conference at Potsdam. The conference
+     will sit with closed doors."
+
+
+     "(4) ROME.--A decree, or short letter, has just been issued from
+     the Vatican to all the 'Patriarchs, Primates, Archbishops, Bishops
+     and other local ordinaries having peace and communion with the Holy
+     See.' The decree deals with the alleged discoveries in Jerusalem.
+     In it Catholics are forbidden to read newspaper accounts of the
+     proceedings in Palestine, nor may they discuss them with their
+     friends. The decree has had the effect of drawing great attention
+     to the affairs in the East, and has excited much adverse comment
+     among the secularist party, and in the _Voce della Populo_."
+
+
+Quite suddenly, as if a curtain were withdrawn, the world began to
+realise the fact that something almost beyond imagination was taking
+place in the far-off Syrian town.
+
+These detached and sinister messages which flashed along the cables,
+with their stories of princes and potentates alarmed and active, made
+the general silence, the lack of detail, more oppressive. The unknown,
+or dimly guessed at, rather, laid hold on men's minds like some mighty
+convulsion of nature, imminent, and presaged by fearful signs. Thus the
+_Daily Wire_:
+
+     "The story of the recent gathering of great Churchmen at Lambeth
+     has not yet been made public, but there can be little doubt in the
+     minds of those who watch events that it must eventually take a
+     place among the great historical occurrences of the world's
+     history. While the men and women of England were going to and fro
+     about their business, the ecclesiastical princes of this realm were
+     met together in doubt, astonishment, and fear, confronted with a
+     problem so tremendous that we find comment upon it presents almost
+     insuperable difficulties.
+
+     "We do not therefore propose to take the widest view of probable
+     contingencies and events, for that would be impossible within the
+     limits of a single article. It must be enough that with a sense of
+     the profoundest responsibility, and with the deep emotions which
+     must arise in the heart of every man who is confronted by a vast
+     and sudden overthrow of one of the binding forces of life, we
+     briefly recapitulate the events of the last few days, and attempt a
+     forecast of what we fear must lie before us here in England.
+
+     "Four days ago we published in these columns the first account of a
+     discovery made by Mr. Cyril Hands, M.A., and confirmed by Dr.
+     Herman Schmöulder, in the red earth _débris_ by the 'Tombs of the
+     Kings,' beyond the Damascus gate of Jerusalem. The news arrived at
+     this office through a private channel, in the form of a long and
+     detailed account written by Mr. Hands, the archæologist and agent
+     of the Palestine Exploring Society. Before publishing the statement
+     the editor was enabled to discuss the advisability of doing so with
+     the Prime Minister. A long series of telegrams passed between the
+     office of this paper, the Foreign Office, and the gentlemen at
+     Jerusalem during the day preceding our publication of the document.
+     Hour by hour new details and a mass of contributory evidence came
+     to hand. All these papers, together with photographs, drawings,
+     and measurements, were placed by us in the hands of the Archbishop
+     of Canterbury. A conference of the greatest living English scholars
+     was summoned. The result of that meeting has been that a committee
+     representing the finest intellect and the most unsullied integrity
+     is now on its way to Jerusalem. Upon the verdict of Sir Robert
+     Llwellyn and his fellow-members, together with the distinguished
+     foreign _savants_ M. Clermont-Ganneau and Dr. Procopides, the
+     Ephor-General of Antiquities in the Athens Museum, the Christian
+     world must wait with terrible anxiety, but with a certainty that
+     the highest human intelligence is concentrated on its deliberation.
+
+     "What that verdict will be, seems, it must be boldly said and
+     faced, almost a foregone conclusion. We feel that we should be
+     lacking in our duty to our readers were we to withhold from them
+     certain facts. Not unnaturally His Grace the Archbishop and many of
+     his advisers have wished the press to preserve a complete silence
+     as to the result of the conference, a silence which should continue
+     until the report of the International Committee of Investigation is
+     published. We have endeavoured to preserve a reticence for two
+     days, but at this juncture it becomes our duty to inform the people
+     of England what we know. And we do not take this step without
+     careful consideration.
+
+     "We have informed the Prime Minister of our intention, and may
+     state that, despite the opposition of the Church Party, Lord ----
+     is in sympathy with it.
+
+     "Briefly, then, Sir Robert Llwellyn, the acknowledged leader of
+     archæological research, has given it as his opinion that Mr.
+     Hands's discovery must be genuine. Sir Robert alone has had the
+     courage to speak out bravely, though he did so with manifest
+     emotion and reluctance. The other members of the conference have
+     refused to express an opinion, though of at least three from among
+     their number there can be little doubt that they concur with Sir
+     Robert's view.
+
+     "Private telegrams, which we have hitherto refrained from
+     publishing, show that the cultured people of Germany, from the
+     Emperor downwards, are persuaded that the story of Jesus of
+     Nazareth has at last been told. Many of the most eminent public men
+     of France agree with this view. These are statements borne out by
+     the evidence of our correspondents in foreign capitals who have
+     secured a series of interviews with those who represent public
+     opinion of the expert kind.
+
+     "The Roman Church, on the other hand, with that supreme isolation
+     and historic indifference to all that helps the cause of Progress
+     and Truth, has not only loftily declined to recognise the fact that
+     any discovery has been made at all, has not only absolutely
+     declined to be represented at Jerusalem, but has issued a
+     proclamation forbidding Roman Catholics to think of or discuss the
+     events which are shaking the fabric of Christendom.
+
+     "In saying as much as we have already said, in placing our
+     melancholy conviction on record in this way, we lay ourselves open
+     to the charge of prejudging the most important decision affecting
+     the welfare of mankind that any body of men have ever been called
+     upon to make. Not even the startling and overwhelming mass of
+     support we have received would have led us to do this were it not
+     our conviction that it is the wisest course to pursue in regard to
+     what we feel almost certain will happen in the future. It seems far
+     better to prepare the minds of Christian English men and women for
+     the terrible shock that they will have to endure by a more gradual
+     system of disclosure than would be possible were we to adopt the
+     suggestion of the bishops and keep silent.
+
+     "And now, in the concluding portion of this article, we must
+     briefly consider what the news that it has been our responsible and
+     painful duty to give first to the world will mean to England.
+
+     "We fear that the mental anguish of countless thousands must for a
+     time cloud the life of our country as it has never been clouded and
+     darkened before. The proof that the Divinity of the Greatest and
+     Wisest Teacher the world has ever known, or ever will know, is but
+     a symbolic fable, will for a time overwhelm the world. A great
+     upheaval of English society is beginning. Old and venerated
+     institutions will be swept away, minds fed upon the Christian
+     theory from youth, instinct with all its hereditary tradition, will
+     be for a while as men groping in the dark. But the light will come
+     after this great tempest, and it will be a broader, finer, more
+     steadfast light than before, because founded on, and springing
+     from, Eternal Truth. The mission of beneficent illusion is over.
+     Error will yet linger for a generation or two. That much is
+     certain. There will be more who will base their objections to the
+     New Revelation upon 'the unassailable and ultimate reality of
+     personal spiritual experience,' forgetting the psychological
+     influences of hereditary training, which have alone produced those
+     experiences. But, alas! the knell of the old and beautiful
+     superstitions is ringing. The Doom is begun. The Judge is set, who
+     shall stay it? Let us rather turn from the saddening spectacle of a
+     fallen creed and rejoice that the 'Infinite and eternal energy' men
+     have called God--Jah-weh, θεος--that mysterious law of Progress and
+     evolution, is about to reveal man to himself more than ever
+     completely in its destruction of an imagined revelation."
+
+During the afternoon preceding the publication of the above article, the
+three principal proprietors had met at the offices of the paper and had
+held a long conference with Mr. Ommaney, the editor.
+
+It had been decided, as a matter of policy and in order to maintain the
+leading position already given to the paper by the first publication of
+Hands's dispatch, that a strong and definite line should be taken at
+once.
+
+The other great journals were already showing signs of a cautious
+"trimming" policy, which would allow them to take up any necessary
+attitude events might dictate. They feared to be explicit, to speak out.
+So they would lose the greater glory.
+
+Once more commercial and political influences were at work, as they had
+been two thousand years before. The little group of Jewish millionaires
+who sat in Ommaney's room had their prototypes in the times of Christ's
+Passion. Men of the modern world were once more enacting the awful drama
+of the Crucifixion.
+
+Constantine Schuabe was among the group; his words had more weight than
+any others. The largest holding in the paper was his. The tentacles of
+this man were far-reaching and strong.
+
+"For my part, gentlemen," Ommaney said, "I am entirely with Mr. Schuabe.
+I agree with him that we should at once take the boldest possible
+attitude. Sir Robert's opinion before he left was conclusive. We shall
+therefore publish a leader to-morrow taking up our standpoint. We will
+have it quite plain and simple. Strong and simple, but with no
+subtleties to puzzle and obscure the ordinary reader. It's no use to
+touch on history or metaphysics, or anything but pure simplicity."
+
+"Then, Mr. Ommaney," Schuabe had said, "since we are exactly agreed on
+the best thing to do, and since these other gentlemen are prepared to
+leave the thing in our hands, if you will allow me I will write the
+leading article myself."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+     HARNESS THE HORSES; AND GET UP, YE HORSEMEN, AND STAND FORTH WITH
+     YOUR HELMETS; FURBISH THE SPEARS, AND PUT ON THE BRIGANDINES.--JER.
+     XLVI: 4
+
+Father Ripon sat alone in his study at the Clergy House of St. Mary's.
+The room was quite silent, save for the occasional dropping of a coal
+upon the hearth, where a bright, clear fire glowed.
+
+Three walls of the room were lined with books. There was no carpet on
+the floor; the bare boards showed, except for a strip of worn matting in
+front of the little cheap brass fender. Over the mantel a great crucifix
+hung on the bare wall, painted, or rather washed with dark red colour.
+
+The few chairs which stood about were all old-fashioned and rather
+uncomfortable. A great writing-table was covered with papers and books.
+Two candles stood upon it and gave light to the room. The only other
+piece of furniture was a deal praying-stool, with a Bible and
+prayer-book upon the ledge.
+
+A rugged, ascetic place, four walls to work and pray in, with just the
+necessary tools and no more. Yet there was no _affectation_ of
+asceticism, the effect was not a considered one in any way. For example,
+there was an oar, with college arms painted on one blade, leaning
+against the wall, a memory of old days when Father Ripon had rowed four
+and his boat at Oxford had got to the head of the river one Eight's
+week. The oar looked as if it were waiting to be properly hung on the
+wall as a decorative trophy, which indeed it was. But it had been
+waiting for seven years. The priest never had time to nail it up. He did
+not despise comfort or decoration, pretend to a pose of rigidness; he
+simply hadn't the time for it himself. That was all. He was always
+promising himself to put up--for example--a pair of crimson curtains a
+sister had sent him months back. But whenever he really determined to
+get them out and hang them, some sudden call came and he had to rush out
+and save a soul.
+
+Father Ripon looked ill and worn. A pamphlet, a long, thin book bound in
+blue paper, with the Royal Arms on the top of the folio, lay upon the
+table. It was the report of the Committee of Investigation, and the
+whole world was ringing with it.
+
+The report had now appeared for two days.
+
+The priest took up _The Tower_, a weekly paper, the official organ, not
+of the pious Evangelical party within the Church, but of the
+ultra-Protestant.
+
+His hand shook with anger and disgust as he read, for the third time,
+the leading article printed in large type, with wider spaces than usual
+between the lines:
+
+     "We have hitherto refrained from any comment on the marvellous
+     discovery in Jerusalem, being content simply to record the progress
+     of the investigations, which have at last satisfied us that a
+     genuine discovery has been made.
+
+     "In the daily special issues of the organs of the sacerdotal party
+     we find much more freedom of expression. They have run the whole
+     gamut--Disbelief, Doubt, Desolation, Detraction, Demoralisation,
+     and Dismay. Rome and Ritualism have received a shock which
+     demolishes and destroys the very foundation of their sinful
+     system.
+
+     "Carnal in its conception it cannot survive.
+
+     "'The worship of the corporeal presence of Christ's natural flesh
+     and blood' (_vide_ the so-called _Black_ rubric at the end of the
+     order of the administration of the Lord's Supper) was always
+     prohibited in the Protestant Reformed Communion, but this
+     idolatrous practice has been the glory and boast of Babylon, and
+     the aim and object of the Traitors, within the Established Church
+     of England, whom we have habitually denounced.'
+
+     "'The times of this ignorance God winked at, but now commandeth all
+     men everywhere to repent.'
+
+     "Hidden by the Divine Providence till the fulness of time, a simple
+     inscription has taught us the full meaning of Paul's mysterious
+     words, 'Yea, though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now
+     henceforth know we Him no more.'--2 Cor. v. 16.
+
+     "Paul and Protestantism are vindicated at last. 'There is a natural
+     body and there is a spiritual body.' The spiritual body that
+     manifested the resurrection of Jesus to His disciples has too long
+     been identified with the natural body that was piously laid to rest
+     by Joseph and Nicodemus. Much that has been obscure in the Gospel
+     narratives is now explained.
+
+     "Men have always wondered that the Apostles, in preaching their
+     risen Lord, attempted no explanation of His manifestations of
+     Himself.
+
+     "We can understand now why it was that they were divinely protected
+     from imagining that the spiritual Body is a dead body revived.
+
+     "How often have perplexed believers been troubled by the questions
+     of our modern scientists as to the physical possibilities of a
+     future resurrection of the body! The material substance of humanity
+     is resolved into its elements, and again and again through the
+     centuries is employed in other organisms.
+
+     "'How then,' men have asked, 'can you believe that the body you
+     have deposited beneath the earth shall collect from the universe
+     its dissipated particles and rise again?'
+
+     "Hitherto we have been content to put the question aside with a
+     simple faith that 'with God all things are possible.' But to-day we
+     are enabled to have a further comprehension of the Lord's words,
+     'It is the spirit that quickeneth, the flesh profiteth nothing.'
+
+     "Doubtless those who, even among our own company of Evangelical
+     Protestants, have attached too much importance to the teaching of
+     the so-called 'Fathers of the Church' (who so early corrupted the
+     sweet simplicity of the Gospel) will find themselves compelled to a
+     more spiritual explanation of some passages of Holy Scripture; but
+     Faith will find little difficulty in rightly dividing and
+     interpreting the word of Truth.
+
+     "The Protestant cause has little to fear from facts. We have been
+     by God's Providence gradually prepared for a great elucidation of
+     the truth about the Resurrection.
+
+     "Those who studied with attention the treatise of the late
+     Frederick W. H. Myers (the man who, of all moderns, has best
+     appreciated the personality of Paul the apostle) had come to a
+     conviction on the survival of Human Personality after death on
+     scientific grounds.
+
+     "The Resurrection of the Lord Jesus was no longer to them 'a thing
+     incredible,' its unique character was recognised as consisting in
+     its spiritual power.
+
+     "'Some doubted,' as on the mountain in Galilee. Protestantism on
+     the Continent, especially in Germany, the home of what is misnamed
+     the 'Higher Criticism,' has been hampered in this way by the study
+     of the 'letter,' and so in some degree has lost the assistance of
+     'the spirit which giveth life.'
+
+     "But the great heart of Protestant England is still sound, and
+     whilst Rome and Ritualism are aghast as the foundation of their
+     fabric of lies crumbles into dust, we stand sure and steadfast,
+     rejoicing in hope.
+
+     "Some readjustment of formularies may be conceded to weak brethren.
+
+     "Our great Reformers drew up that marvellous manifesto of the
+     Protestant faith--'Articles agreed upon by the archbishops and
+     bishops of Both Provinces, and the whole clergy in the Convocation
+     holden at London in the year 1562 for the avoiding of diversities
+     of opinions, and for the establishing of consent touching True
+     Religion.'
+
+     "England was at that time--alas, how often has it been
+     so!--inclined to compromise.
+
+     "There were timid men amongst the great divines who brought us out
+     of Babylon, and the 4th article of the Thirty-nine was notoriously
+     drawn up in antagonism to the teaching of the holy Silesian
+     nobleman, Caspar Schwenckfeld, to satisfy the scruples of the
+     sacerdotal party, which clung to the benefices of the Establishment
+     then as now.
+
+     "The omission of twelve words would remove all doubt as to its
+     interpretation. We may be content to affirm that 'Christ did truly
+     rise again from death' without stating further 'and took again his
+     body with flesh, bones, and all things appertaining.'
+
+     "It has always been the curse of Christendom that man desired to
+     express in words the ineffable.
+
+     "'Intruding into those things which he hath not seen, vainly puffed
+     up by his fleshly mind.'
+
+     "But it need not now be difficult with the aid of a Protestant
+     Parliament, which has so recently and so gloriously determined on
+     the expulsion of sacerdotalists, to modify, in deference to pious
+     scruples, too rigid definitions. Time will suffice for these
+     necessary modifications of sixteenth-century theology.
+
+     "In the present, the gain is ours. We shall hear less of the cultus
+     of the 'Sacred Heart' in future. The blasphemous mimicry of the
+     Mass will perish from amongst us.
+
+     "No man, in England at least, will dare to affirm that the flesh in
+     which the Saviour bore our sins upon the Cross is exposed for
+     adoration on the so-called 'altar.'
+
+     "As Matthew Arnold put it, on the true grave of Jesus 'the Syrian
+     stars look down,' but the risen Christ, glorious in His _Spiritual_
+     Body, reigns over the hearts of his true followers, and we look
+     forward in faith to our departure from the earthly tabernacle,
+     which is dissolved day by day, knowing that we also have a
+     spiritual house not made with hands eternal in the heavens."
+
+As he read the clever trimming article and marked the bitterness of its
+tone, the priest's face grew red with anger and contempt.
+
+This facile acceptance of the Great Horror, this insolent conversion of
+it to party ends, this flimsy pretence of reconciling statements, which,
+if true, made Christianity a thing of nought, to a novel and trumped-up
+system of adherence to it, filled him with bitter antagonism.
+
+But, useful as the article was as showing the turn many men's minds were
+taking, there was no time to trouble about it now.
+
+To-morrow the great meeting of those who still believed Christ died and
+rose again from the dead was to be held.
+
+The terrible "Report" had been issued. During the forty hours of its
+existence everything was already beginning to crumble away. To-morrow
+the Church Militant must speak to the world.
+
+It was said, moreover, that the great wave of infidelity and mockery
+which was sweeping hourly over the country would culminate in a great
+riot to-morrow....
+
+Everything seemed dark, black, hopeless....
+
+He picked up the Report once more to study it, as he had done fifty
+times that day.
+
+But before he opened it he knelt in prayer.
+
+As he prayed, so sweet and certain an assurance came to him, he seemed
+so very near to the Lord, that doubt and gloom fled before that
+Presence.
+
+What were logic, proofs of stone-work, the reports of archæologists, to
+This?
+
+Here in this lonely chamber Christ was, and spoke with His servant,
+bidding him be of good comfort.
+
+With bright eyes, full of the glow of one who walks with God, the priest
+opened the pamphlet once more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE HOUR OF CHAOS
+
+
+Although, during the first days of the Darkness, hundreds of thousands
+of Christian men and women were chilled almost to spiritual death, and
+although the lamp of Faith was flickering very low, it was not in London
+that the far-reaching effects of the discovery at Jerusalem were most
+immediately apparent.
+
+In that great City there is an outward indifference, bred of a million
+different interests, which has something akin to the supreme
+indifference of Nature. The many voices never blend into one, so that
+the ear may hear them in a single mighty shout.
+
+But in the grimmer North public opinion is heard more readily, and is
+more quickly visible. In the great centres of executive toil the vital
+truths of religion seem to enter more insistently into the lives of men
+and women whose environment presents them with fewer distractions than
+elsewhere. Often, indeed, this interest is a political interest rather
+than a deeply Christian one, a matter of controversy rather than
+feeling. Certain it is that all questions affecting religious beliefs
+loom large and have a real importance in the cities of the North.
+
+It was Wednesday evening at Walktown.
+
+Mr. Byars was reading the service. The huge, ugly church was lit with
+rows of gas-jets, arranged in coronæ painted a drab green. But the
+priest's voice, strained and worn, echoed sadly and with a melancholy
+cadence through the great barn-like place. Two or three girls, a couple
+of men, and half a dozen boys made up the choir, which had dwindled to
+less than a fifth of its usual size. The organ was silent.
+
+Right down the church, those in the chancel saw row upon row of
+cushioned empty seats. Here and there a small group of people broke the
+chilling monotony of line, but the worshippers were very few. In the
+galleries an occasional couple, almost secure from observation,
+whispered to each other. The church was warm, the seats not
+uncomfortable; it was better to flirt here than in the cold, frost-bound
+streets.
+
+Never had Evensong been so cheerless and gloomy, even in that vast,
+unlovely building. There was no sermon. The vicar was suffering under
+such obvious strain, he looked so worn and ill, that even this lifeless
+congregation seemed to feel it a relief when the Blessing was said and
+it was free to shuffle out into the promenade of the streets.
+
+The harsh trumpeting of Mr. Philemon, the vestry clerk's final "Amen,"
+was almost jubilant.
+
+As Mr. Byars walked home he saw that the three great Unitarian chapels
+which he had to pass _en route_ were blazing with light. Policemen were
+standing at the doors to prevent the entrance of any more people into
+the overcrowded buildings. A tremendous life and energy pulsated within
+these buildings. Glancing back, with a bitter sigh, the vicar saw that
+the lights in St. Thomas were already extinguished, and the tower, in
+which the illuminated clock glowed sullenly, rose stark and cold into
+the dark winter sky.
+
+The last chapel of all, the Pembroke Road Chapel, had a row of finely
+appointed carriages waiting outside the doors. The horses were covered
+with cloths, the grooms and coachmen wore furs, and the breaths of men
+and beasts alike poured out in streams of blue vapour. These men stamped
+up and down the gravel sweep in front of the chapel and swung their arms
+in order to keep warm.
+
+On each side of the great polished mahogany doors were large placards,
+printed in black and red, vividly illuminated by electric arc lights.
+These announced that on that night Mr. Constantine Schuabe, M.P., would
+lecture on the recent discovery in Jerusalem. The title of the lecture,
+in staring black type, seemed to Mr. Byars as if it possessed an almost
+physical power. It struck him like a blow.
+
+     THE DOWNFALL OF CHRISTIANITY
+
+And then in smaller type,
+
+     ANTHROPOMORPHISM AN EXPLODED SUPERSTITION
+
+He walked on more hurriedly through the dark.
+
+All over the district the Church seemed tottering. The strong forces of
+Unitarianism and Judaism, always active enemies of the Church, were
+enjoying a moment of unexampled triumph. Led by nearly all the wealthy
+families in Walktown, all the Dissenters and many lukewarm Church people
+were crowding to these same synagogues. At the very height of these
+perversions, when Christianity was forsworn and derided on all sides,
+Schuabe had returned to Mount Prospect from London.
+
+His long-sustained position as head of the antichristian party in
+Parliament, in England indeed, his political connection with the place,
+his wealth, the ties of family and relationship, all combined to make
+him the greatest power of the moment in the North.
+
+His speeches, of enormous power and force, were delivered daily and
+reported _verbatim_ in all the newspapers. He became the Marlborough of
+a campaign.
+
+On every side the churches were almost deserted. Day by day ominous
+political murmurs were heard in street and factory. The time had come,
+men were saying, when an established priesthood and Church must be
+forced to relinquish its emoluments and position. The Bishop of
+Manchester, as he rolled through the streets in his carriage, leaning
+back upon the cushions, lost in thought, with his pipe between his lips,
+according to the wont and custom which had almost created a scandal in
+the neighbourhood, was hissed and hooted as he went on his way.
+
+With a sickness of heart, an utter weariness that was almost physical
+nausea, the vicar let himself into his house with a latch-key.
+
+There was a hushed, subdued air over the warm, comfortable house, felt
+quite certainly, though not easy to define. It was as though one lay
+dead in an upper chamber.
+
+Mr. Byars turned into his study. Helena rose to meet him. The beautiful,
+calm face was very pale and worn as if by long vigils. Minute lines of
+care had crept round the eyes, though the eyes themselves were as calm
+and steadfast as of old.
+
+"Basil feels much stronger to-night, Father," she said. "He is dressing
+now, and will come down to supper. He wishes to have a long talk with
+you, he says."
+
+For two weeks Gortre had lain prostrate in the house of his future
+father-in-law.
+
+It was as though he had watched the waters gradually rising round him
+until at last he was submerged in a merciful unconsciousness. The doctor
+said that he was enduring a very slight attack of brain-fever, but one
+which need cause no one any alarm, and which was, in fact, nothing at
+all in comparison to his former illness.
+
+His fine physical strength asserted itself and helped him to an easy
+_bodily_ recovery.
+
+To Basil himself, with returning health and a clearer brain came a
+renewal of mental power. A great strain was removed, the strain of
+waiting and watching, the tension of a sick anticipation.
+
+"It was almost as if I was conscious of this terrible thing that has
+happened," he said to Helena. "I am sure that I felt it coming
+instinctively in some curious psychic way. But now that we know the
+worst, I am my own man again. Soon, dear, I shall be up and about again,
+ready to fight against this blackness, to take my place in the ranks
+once more."
+
+To her loving solicitude he seemed to have some definite plan or
+purpose, but when she questioned him his reserve was impenetrable, even
+to her.
+
+During the days of darkness Helena's lot was hard, her heart heavy.
+While Mr. Byars was at least active, militant, she must eat her heart
+out in sorrow at home. The doctor had forbidden any talk on those
+subjects which were agitating the world, between her and Basil. She was
+denied that consolation. So while her father was attending the
+conferences at the Bishop's palace, speaking at meetings, visiting the
+sick with passionate, and, alas, how often useless! assurance that the
+Truth would prevail and the Light of the World once more shine out
+undimmed, she must live and pray alone.
+
+Helena's faith had never weakened. All through the trying days and
+nights it had burned steadily, clear, and pure. But all around her she
+saw the enemies of Christ prevailing. Nor was it with the slow movement
+of ordinary secularism, but with a great shout of triumph and exultation
+which resounded through the world. Men were deserting their posts, the
+Church she loved seemed tottering, a horrid confusion and anarchy was
+everywhere.
+
+And all that she could do was to pray. But as the girl moved about her
+simple household duties, as she tended the sick man with an almost
+wifely care, her prayers went on unceasingly and every action was
+interwoven with supplication.
+
+Pale, subdued, but with a quiet clearness and resolution in his eye,
+Basil came down to the meal. There was but little conversation during
+it. Afterwards, Helena went to her own room, knowing that her father and
+Gortre wished to be left alone.
+
+In the study the two men sat on either side of the fireplace. Basil wore
+a long dressing-gown of camel's-hair. He would not smoke, the doctor had
+forbidden it, but Mr. Byars lit his pipe with a sigh of satisfaction.
+
+"To think, Basil," the older man said in a broken voice, "to think that
+Christmas is upon us now! It's the vigil of Christmas, and never since
+our Lord's Passion has the world been in such a state. And worse than
+all is our utter impotence!" His voice grew almost angry. "We _know_,
+know as surely as we know anything, that this terrible business is some
+stupendous mistake or fraud. But there isn't the slightest possibility
+of any one listening to us. On one side the weightiest expert proof, on
+the other nothing but a conviction to oppose to what appear to be the
+hardest facts. I cannot blame any non-Christian for acquiescing in this
+discovery. Viewing the thing clearly and without prejudice, I can't
+blame any one. It is only the smallest minority, even of professing
+Christians, whose faith is strong enough to keep them from an utter
+denial of our Lord's Divinity. It is simply a matter of long personal
+experience that gives you and me and Helena our confidence in this
+utter darkness. But in comparison to the rest of the world, how many
+have that confidence?"
+
+He put down his pipe on the table and rested his head in his
+outstretched hands, a grey and venerable head. "It's awful, Basil," he
+said in a broken voice, and with his eyes full of tears. "In my old age
+I have seen this. I wish that I had gone with my dear wife. 'Help, Lord;
+for the godly man ceaseth; for the faithful fail from among the children
+of men.' But what is so bitter to me, my dear boy, is the sight of the
+utter overthrow of Faith. It all shows how terribly weak the majority of
+Christians are. Surface and symbol! symbol and surface!"
+
+"It will not last long," said Gortre, gravely. "For my part, Father, I
+think that this terrible trial is allowed and permitted by God to bring
+about a great and future triumph for His Son, which will marshal,
+organise, and consolidate Faith as nothing has ever done before. I am
+convinced of it."
+
+"Yes, it must be that," answered the vicar; "undoubtedly that is God's
+purpose. But I would that the light might come in my time. And I fear I
+shall not live to see it. I'm an old man now, Basil; this has aged me
+very much, and I shall not live much longer. It is God's will, but it is
+hard to know that one will die seeing Christ dethroned in the hearts of
+men, the Cross broken."
+
+"While I have been quietly up-stairs," said Gortre, "many strange
+thoughts have come to me, of which I want to speak to you to-night. I
+have things to tell you which I have mentioned to no one as yet. But
+before I go into these matters--very dark and terrible ones, I fear--I
+want you to give me a _résumé_ of the position of things as they are
+now. The present state is not clear in my mind. I have not read many of
+the papers, and I want a sort of bird's-eye view of what is going on."
+
+"The position at present," said Mr. Byars, "from our point of view, is a
+kind of anarchy. Within every denomination those who absolutely refuse
+to credit the truth of the discovery are in the minority. Abroad, in
+France especially, wild free-thought of the rabid Tom Paine order has
+broken out everywhere in a kind of hysterical rage against Christianity.
+The immediate social result has been an appalling increase in crimes of
+lust and cruelty. Great alarm is felt by the authorities. All the papers
+are taking a horribly cynical view. They say that the delusion of
+Christianity has clouded men's brains for so long that they are now
+incapable of bearing the truth, and that the best way to govern the
+State is to go on making believe. On the other hand, the vast majority
+of Roman Catholics, both abroad and in England, have remained utterly
+uninfluenced. It is one of the most marvellous triumphs of discipline
+and order that history has ever witnessed. The Pope forbade the
+slightest notice of the discovery to be taken by priests or people in
+the first instance. Then, when the Report of the Committee was issued,
+with only one dissentient voice--Sir Michael Manichoe's--a Papal Bull
+was issued. Here it is, translated in _The Tablet_, magnificent in its
+brevity and serenity."
+
+He took a paper from the table beside him and began to read:
+
+     "VENERABLE BRETHREN,--HEALTH AND APOSTOLIC BENEDICTION
+
+     "It has seemed good to Us to address you on certain points dealing
+     with the decay of faith in divine things, which is the effect of
+     pride and moral corruption. And this is the natural result of
+     pride; for when this vice has taken possession of the heart it is
+     inevitable that the Christian Faith, which demands a most willing
+     docility, should languish, and that a murky darkness in regard to
+     divine truths should close upon the mind, so that in the case of
+     many these words should be made good, 'whatever things they know
+     not they blaspheme' (St. Jude). We, however, so far from being
+     hereby turned aside from the design which We have taken in hand,
+     are, on the contrary, determined all the more zealously and
+     diligently to guide the well-disposed, so that they may be saved
+     from the perils of secular unbelief.
+
+     "And, with the help of the united prayers of the faithful, We
+     earnestly implore forgiveness for those who speak evil of holy
+     things.
+
+     "And inasmuch as certain persons not being members of the Holy
+     Catholic Church have in an extremity of criminal madness laid claim
+     to discoveries which are pretended and put forth as affecting the
+     eternal Truths of the Faith, We command you, Venerable Brethren,
+     that it shall be stated in all the churches such pretences are void
+     of truth and utterly abominable. The enemies of Christ cry out, 'We
+     will not have this man to reign over us' (Luke xix. 14), and make
+     themselves loudly heard with the utterance of that wicked purpose,
+     'Let us make away with Him.'
+
+     "We therefore charge all Christians having peace and communion with
+     the Holy Church that they shall give no ear or countenance to these
+     onslaughts upon the Faith. It is forbidden for them to speak of
+     these things among themselves, or to listen to others concerning
+     them.
+
+     "With these injunctions, Venerable Brethren, We, as a presage of
+     the divine liberality, and as a pledge of our own charity, most
+     lovingly bestow on each of you, and on the clergy and flock
+     committed to the care of each, our Apostolic Benediction."
+
+"That is the gist of it," said Mr. Byars, "though I have missed out a
+few paragraphs. The result has been that, with a few exceptions, the
+whole army of Romanists, so to speak, have closed ranks and utterly
+refused to listen to what is going on."
+
+"It's very fine, very fine indeed, as a spectacle," Gortre answered. "I
+wish we had something like that unity and discipline. But is that
+submission, possibly without the fire of an inward conviction, worth
+very much? I doubt it."
+
+"It is not for us to judge," answered the vicar. "But the result has
+been that the Catholic Church, both here and on the Continent, is
+undergoing a storm of persecution and popular hatred. There have been
+fearful fights in Liverpool, and riots between the Irish dock-labourers
+and a mob of people who called themselves Protestants last year and
+'Rationalists' to-day.
+
+"The attitude of the Low Church party is varied. Many of them are openly
+deserting to Unitarianism. Others have accepted the discovery as being a
+true one, and evolved an entirely new theory from it, while using it as
+a party weapon also. This attitude is reflected in _The Tower_ in an
+article which says that, though the actual body of Christ is now proved
+never to have risen from the dead, the _spiritual_ body was what the
+Disciples saw. It is a clever piece of work, which has attracted an
+immense number of people, and is directed entirely against the Holy
+Eucharist.[1] The Moderate and High Church parties are in some ways in a
+worse position than any other. They find themselves unable to
+compromise. "At the great meeting in the Albert Hall the other day,
+which ended up in something like a free fight, all the conclusion the
+majority of the clergy could come to was that it was utterly impossible
+to accept the discovery and remain Christian. The result everywhere is
+chaos; men are resigning their livings, there have been several
+suicides--isn't it horrible to think of?--congregations are dwindling
+everywhere, and disestablishment seems a certainty in a very short time.
+The papers are full of nothing else, of course. We are fighting tooth
+and nail upon the standpoint of personal spiritual experience, which
+nothing can alter, but in a material way how little that helps! The
+Methodists and Wesleyans are more successful than any one. They are
+holding revival meetings all over the country. Very few of these two
+bodies have joined the infidel ranks. Dissent has always implied an act
+of choice, which, at any rate, means a man is not indifferent to the
+whole thing. I suppose that is why the Wesleyans seem to be making a
+firmer and more spiritual stand than any of us. To my shame I say it,
+but the Churchmen of England are not bearing witness as these others
+are."
+
+"And the Bishops?"
+
+"Most of them don't know what to do. Of course, the great leaders of
+spiritual thought, W----, for instance, and G----, have written that
+which has brought comfort and conviction to hundreds. But see the horror
+of the position. The only way in which this awful thing can be combated
+is by just the methods which only scholars and cultivated people can
+understand. How are people who read the hard, material, logical speeches
+of people like Schuabe, or that abominable woman, Mrs. Hubert Armstrong,
+going to be convinced by the subtleties of the intellect or by the
+reiteration of a personal conviction which they cannot share? Then the
+Court party, the Archbishop, Walke, and all those, are leaning more and
+more towards the 'spiritual' body theory, though they hesitate to commit
+themselves as yet. It is all to be shelved until Convocation meets. They
+want to see how things will go in Parliament. The Erastian spirit is
+rampant. They are nearly all afraid of any ecclesiastical action. They
+are following the lead of Germany under the Kaiser."
+
+"It is all very terrible to see how much less Christianity means to
+mankind than earnest Christians believed," said Gortre, sadly. "To see
+the edifice tumbling round one like a house of paper when one thought it
+so secure and strong. What a terrible lesson this will be in the future
+to every one; what frightful shame and humiliation will come to those
+who have denied their Lord when this is over!"
+
+"When will that be, Basil?" said the vicar, wearily. "It seems as if the
+real hour of test were at hand, and that now, finally and for ever, God
+means to separate the true believers from the rest. I have thought that
+all this may be but a prelude to the Last Day of all, and that Christ's
+Second Coming is very near. But what I _cannot_ understand, what is
+utterly beyond the power of any of us to appreciate, is what this all
+_means_. How can this new tomb have been discovered after all these
+years? Can all these great experts have been deceived? There have been
+historical forgeries before, but surely this cannot be one. And yet, I
+_know_, you _know_, that our Lord rose from the dead."
+
+"I believe that to me, of all men in England, The Hand of God has given
+the key to the mystery," said Gortre.
+
+Mr. Byars started and looked uneasily at him.
+
+"Basil," he said, "I have been thoughtless. We've talked too long. You
+are not quite clear as to what you are saying. Let us read compline
+together and go to bed."
+
+He watched Basil as he spoke, but before he had finished his sentence he
+saw something in the young man's face which sent the blood leaping and
+tearing through his veins.
+
+In a sudden, utterly unreasoning way, he saw a truth, a certain
+knowledge, in Gortre's eyes which flooded his whole heart and soul with
+exaltation and joy.
+
+His good and almost saintly face looked as John's might have looked
+when, after the octave of the Resurrection Day, the eight heavy-hearted
+men were once more returning to the daily round and common task, and saw
+the Lord upon the shore.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE FIRST LINKS
+
+
+"I have been piecing things together gradually, as I lay silent
+up-stairs," said Gortre, drawing his chair a little closer to the fire.
+
+"Slowly, little by little, I have added link and link to a chain of
+circumstantial evidence which has led me to an almost incredible
+conclusion. When you have heard what I have to say you will realise two
+things. One is that there are depths of human wickedness so abysmal and
+awful that the mind can hardly conceive of them. The other is that, for
+what reason it is not for us to try and divine, I have been led, by a
+most extraordinary series of events and coincidences, to something very
+near the truth about the discovery in Jerusalem. My story begins some
+months ago, on the night before I was struck down with brain-fever. You
+will remember that Constantine Schuabe"--he spoke the name with a
+shudder of horror that instinctively communicated itself to Mr.
+Byars--"that Schuabe called here on that night about the school
+scholarships. When I went away, I left the house with him. He invited me
+to go on to Mount Prospect and I did so. Earlier in the evening we had
+been talking of the antichrist and I had said to you that I saw in
+Schuabe a modern type of the old mediæval idea. My mind was peculiarly
+sensitive on these points that night, awake, alert, and inquiring. When
+Schuabe invited me to his house, something impelled me to go, something
+outside of myself. I went, feeling that I was on the threshold of some
+discovery."
+
+He paused for a moment, white and tired with the intensity of his
+narrative.
+
+"When we got to Schuabe's house we began upon the controversial points
+which we had carefully avoided here. At first our talk was quite quiet,
+mere argument between two people having different points of view on
+religion. He went out to get some supper--the servants were all in bed.
+While he was gone, again I felt the strange assurance of something by me
+directing my actions. I felt a sense of direct spiritual protection. I
+went to the bookshelf and took down a Bible. I opened it, half ashamed
+of myself for the tinge of superstition, and my eyes fell upon the text:
+
+     "'WATCH AND PRAY.'
+
+"I could not help taking it as a direct message. Schuabe came back.
+Gradually, as I saw his bitter hatred and contempt for our Lord and the
+Christian Church becoming revealed, I was uplifted to rebuke him. He had
+dropped the veil of an _intellectual_ disagreement. Some power was given
+to me to see far into the man's soul. He knew that also, and all
+pretence between us was utterly swept away. Then I told him that his
+hate was real and active, that I saw him as he was. And these were the
+words in which he answered me, standing like Lucifer before me. For
+months they have haunted me. They are burnt in upon my brain for all
+time. '_I tell you, paid priest as you are, a blind man leading the
+blind, that a day is coming when all your boasted fabric of
+Christianity will disappear. It will go suddenly and be swept utterly
+away. And you, you shall see it. You shall be left naked of your Faith,
+stripped and bare, with all Christendom beside you. Your pale Nazarene
+shall die among the bitter laughter of the world, die as surely as he
+died two thousand years ago, and no man nor woman shall resurrect him.
+You know nothing, but you will remember my words of to-night, until you
+also become as nothing and endure the inevitable fate of mankind!_'"
+
+Mr. Byars started. As yet he realised nothing of where Basil's story was
+to lead. "A prophecy!" he cried. "It is as if he were gifted to know the
+future. Something of what he said has already come to pass."
+
+"My story is a long one, Father," said Gortre, "and as yet it is only
+begun. You will see plainer soon. Well, as he said these words I knew
+with certainty that this man was _afraid of God_. I saw his awful secret
+in his eyes, this man, antichrist indeed, _believes in our Lord_, and in
+terrible presumption dares to lift his hand against Him. Little more of
+importance happened upon that night. The next day, as you know, I fell
+ill and was so for some weeks. When I recovered and remembered perfectly
+all that had happened--do you remember how the picture of Christ fell
+and broke when Schuabe came?--I saw that I must keep all these things
+locked within my own brain. What could I do or say more than that I, a
+fanatical curate--that is what people would have said--had had a row
+with the famous agnostic millionaire and politician? I could not hope to
+explain to any one the reality of that evening, the certain knowledge I
+had of its being only a prelude to some horror that I could not foresee
+or name. So I kept my own counsel. Perhaps you may remember that on the
+night of the tea-party when I said good-bye to the people I urged them
+to keep fast hold on faith, made a special point of it?"
+
+Again Mr. Byars showed his intense interest by a sudden movement of the
+muscles of his face. But he did not speak, and Gortre continued:
+
+"Now we come to Dieppe when we were all there together. You will, of
+course, remember how Spence introduced us to Sir Robert Llwellyn, and
+how we talked over dinner at the _Pannier d'Or_. Since then, we must
+remember, Sir Robert's evidence in favour of the absolute authenticity
+of Hands's discovery has had more weight with the world than that of any
+one else. He is, of course, known to be the greatest living expert. And
+that fact also has a very important bearing on my story. After dinner,
+the conversation turned upon discoveries in exactly the direction that
+the recent discovery _has_ been made. Llwellyn expressed himself as
+believing that--I think I remember something like his actual words--'We
+are on the eve of stupendous discoveries in this direction.' None of us
+liked to pursue the discussion further. There was a little pause."
+
+"Yes!" said the vicar, "I remember it perfectly now; it all comes back
+to me quite vividly. But do you know that, beyond of course remembering
+that we were introduced to Sir Robert at Dieppe, the subject of our
+conversation had almost escaped my memory. Certainly I never thought of
+it in detail. But go on, Basil."
+
+"Well, then, Sir Robert drew a plan of the walls of Jerusalem on the
+back of a letter which he took from his pocket. As he turned the letter
+over I could not help seeing whom it was from. I read the signature
+quite distinctly, 'Constantine Schuabe.' This brings us up to a curious
+fact. Two eminent men, one antichristian, the other a famous
+archæologist, both express an opinion in my hearing. The first says
+openly that something is about to occur that will destroy faith in
+Christ, the other hints only at some wonderful impending discovery in
+the Holy Land. The connection between the two statements, startling
+enough in any case, becomes still more so when it is discovered that
+these two eminent people are in correspondence one with the other. And
+there is more than this even. Two days after that dinner I was taking a
+stroll down by the quays when I saw Sir Robert and Mr. Schuabe, who had
+just landed from the Newhaven boat, get into the Paris train together."
+
+A sudden short exclamation came from the chair on the opposite side of
+the fire. Very dimly and vaguely the vicar was beginning to see where
+Basil's story was tending. The fire had grown low, and Mr. Byars
+replenished it. The noise of the falling coals accentuated the tension
+which filled the quiet room like a gas.
+
+Then Gortre's tired, but even and deliberate, voice continued:
+
+"I will here ask you to consider one or two other points. Professor
+Llwellyn told us that he had a year's leave from the British Museum
+owing to ill health. So long a rest presupposes a real illness, does it
+not? Now, of course, one can never be sure of anything of this sort, but
+it is, at least, curious and worthy of remark that Sir Robert seemed
+outwardly in perfect health and with a hearty appetite. He also said
+that he was _en route_ for Alexandria. Well, Alexandria is the nearest
+port to Jaffa, which is but one day's ride from Jerusalem. Now comes a
+still more curious part of my story. As I have told you, our parish in
+Bloomsbury is one in which a great class of undesirable people have made
+their home. It cannot be denied that it is a centre of some peculiarly
+shameless vice. Much of the work of the clergy lies among women of a
+certain class, and great tact and resolution is needed to deal with such
+problems as these people present. Some months ago a woman, whose face
+seemed in some vague way familiar to me, began to come to church. Once
+or twice she seemed to show an inclination to speak to me or my
+colleagues after the service, but she never actually did so. Eventually
+she called on Ripon, and confessed her way of life. Her repentance
+seemed sincere, and she was anxious to turn over a new leaf. It appeared
+that the girl was a rather well-known dancer at one of the burlesque
+theatres, and I must have seen her portrait on the hoardings and
+advertisements of these places. She had been touched by something in one
+of my sermons, it seems, and Ripon requested me to go and see her. I did
+so, in the flat where she lived, and we had a chat. The poor thing was
+suffering from an internal disease, and had only a year or two to live.
+She seemed a kindly, sensible creature enough, vulgar and
+pleasure-loving, but without any very great wickedness about her,
+despite her wretched life. She wanted to get right away, to bury herself
+in the country, and live a pure and quiet life until she died. The great
+difficulty in the way was the man whose mistress she was, and of whom
+she seemed in considerable fear. I explained to her that, with the help
+of Father Ripon and myself, no harm should come to her from him, and
+that her quiet disappearance from the scenes of her past life could be
+very easily managed. Then it came out that the man in whose power she
+was was none other than Sir Robert Llwellyn. _She told me that he had
+been for some time in Palestine._ She was expecting him back every day.
+While we were talking Sir Robert actually entered the room, fresh from
+his journey. We had a fearful row, of course, and he would not go until
+I threatened to use force, and then only because he was afraid of the
+scandal. But before he went he seemed filled with a sort of coarse
+triumph even in a moment of what must have been great discomfiture for
+him. I had to explain what had happened to him. I told him frankly that
+Miss Hunt--that was the woman's name--was, by the grace of the Holy
+Spirit, about to lead a new and different life. Then this sort of
+triumph burst forth. He said that in a short time meddling priests would
+lose all their power over the minds of others. He said that Christ, 'the
+pale dreamer of the East,' should be revealed to all men at last. He
+quoted the verse about the grave from Matthew Arnold. And it was all
+done with a great confidence and certainty."
+
+He stopped, worn out, and glanced inquiringly at Mr. Byars.
+
+The vicar was evidently much moved and excited by the narrative. "The
+most curious point of all," he said, "in what you tell me is the fact of
+Sir Robert's _private_ and _secret_ visit to Palestine some months
+before the discovery was made. Such a recent visit is entirely unknown
+to the public, who have been so busy with his name of late. The
+newspapers have said nothing of it. Otherwise, I see no reason why, in
+some way or other, Mr. Schuabe and Sir Robert may not have known of this
+tomb in some way before it was discovered by Hands, and their hintings
+of a catastrophe to faith may have simply been because of this knowledge
+which they were unwilling to publish."
+
+Gortre shook his head. "No, it is not that," he said. "It is not that.
+They would never have kept the knowledge secret. You have not been
+through the scenes with these men that I have. There are a hundred
+objections to that theory. _I am absolutely persuaded that this
+'discovery' is a forgery, executed with the highest skill, by the one
+man living capable of doing it at the instigation of the one man evil
+enough to suggest it._ The hand of God is leading me towards the truth."
+
+"But the proof!" said the vicar, "the proof! Think of the tremendous
+forces arrayed against us. What can we do? No one would listen to what
+you have told me."
+
+"God will show a way," said Gortre. "I know it. I had a letter from
+Harold Spence this morning. His work is done, and he has returned. At
+the end of the week the doctor says I shall be able to get back to
+Lincoln's Inn. I shall take counsel with Harold; he is brilliant, and a
+man of the world. Together we will work to overthrow these devils."
+
+"And meanwhile," answered Mr. Byars, with a despairing gesture,
+"meanwhile hope and faith are dying out of millions of hearts, men are
+turning to sinful pleasures unafraid, hopeless, desolate."
+
+The strain had been too great, he was growing older; he bent his head on
+his hands, while the darkness crept into his soul.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+PARTICULAR INSTANCES, CONTRASTING THE OLD LADY AND THE SPECIAL
+CORRESPONDENT
+
+
+The long Manchester station was full of the sullen and almost unbearable
+roar of escaping steam. Every now and again the noise ceased with a
+suddenness that was pain, and the groups of people waiting to see the
+London train start on its four hours' rush could hear each other's
+voices strange and thin after the mighty vibration.
+
+The feast of Christmas was over. Throughout the world the festival had
+fallen chill and cold on the hearts of mankind. The _Adeste Fideles_ had
+summoned few to worship, and the praise had sounded thin and hollow.
+Even the faithful must keep their deep conviction as a hidden fire
+within them amid the din and crash of faith and the rising tides of
+negation and despair.
+
+Gortre, Helena, and Mr. Byars stood together by the train side. They
+spoke but little; the same thought was in their brains. The jarring
+materialism of the scene, its steady, heedless industry, seemed an
+outrage almost in its cold disregard of the sadness which they felt
+themselves. The great engines glided in and out of the station, the
+porters and travellers moved with busy cheerfulness as if the world were
+not in the grip of a great darkness and horror, taking no account of
+it. They stood by the door of the carriage Basil had chosen, a forlorn
+group not quite able to realise the stir of life around them.
+
+Gortre was pale and worn, but visibly better and stronger. His face was
+fixed and resolute. The vicar seemed much older, shrunken somewhat, and
+his manner was more tremulous than before. His arm was in Helena's.
+
+"Basil," said the vicar, "you are going from us into what must be the
+unknown--God grant a happy issue out of the perils and difficulties
+before you. For my part, I seem to be in an unhappy and doubting state.
+It may be that you have the key to this black mystery and can dispel the
+clouds. I shall pray daily that it may be so. It is in the hands of
+God."
+
+He sighed heavily as he gripped Basil's hand in farewell. In truth, he
+had but little hope and had hardly been able to realise the young man's
+story. It was almost inconceivable to him, the abnormal wickedness it
+suggested, the possibility that this great cloud could come upon the
+world at the action of two men, both of whom he had known, found
+pleasant, cultured people, and rather liked. The thought was too big to
+grasp, it confused and stunned him. It is a curious fact that this good
+man, who could believe, despite all contrary evidence, in the eternal
+truths of the Gospel, could not believe in the malignancy which Basil's
+story had seemed to indicate.
+
+Helena had not been told of Basil's suspicions, only of his hopes. She
+knew that there was that in his mind which might lead once more to light
+and disperse the clouds. No details were given to her, nor did she ask
+for them. She was too serene and fine for commonplace curiosity. The
+mutual trust between the lovers was absolute. Nothing could strain it,
+nothing could disturb it; and in her love and admiration for Basil,
+Helena saw nothing incongruous or incredible in the fact that the young
+man hoped himself to bring peace back to the world.
+
+To any one viewing the project with unbiassed eyes it might have seemed
+beyond possibility, would have provoked a smile, this spectacle of an
+obscure curate going up to London in a third-class carriage with hopes
+of saving his country's faith, in the expectation of overthrowing the
+gigantic edifice of learned opinion, of combating a Sanhedrin of the
+great. Such people would have said with facile pedantry that this girl
+possessed no sense of humour, imagining that they were reproaching her.
+For by some strange mental perversion most people would rather be told
+that they lack a sense of morals or duty than a sense of humour, and it
+is quite certain that this was said of John the Baptist as he preached
+in his unconventional raiment upon Jordan's banks.
+
+Helena and Basil walked slowly up and down the platform, saying
+farewell.
+
+Her words of love and hope, her serene and unquestioning confidence,
+uplifted him as nothing else could do. At this moment, big with his own
+passionate hopes and desires, yet dismayed at the immensity of the task
+before him, the trust and encouragement of one he loved were especially
+helpful and uplifting. It was the tonic he needed. And as the train
+slowly moved out of the station the bright and noble face of his lady
+was the last thing he saw.
+
+He thought long of her as the train began to gather speed and rush
+through the smoky Northern towns. As many other people, Gortre found a
+stimulus to clear, ordered thought in the sensation of rapid motion. The
+brain worked with more power, owing to the exhilaration produced in it
+by speed.
+
+As the ponderous machine which was carrying him back to the great
+theatre of strife and effort gathered momentum and power, so his mind
+became filled with high hopes, began to glow with eagerness to strike a
+great blow against the enemies of Christ.
+
+He looked at the carriage, noticing for the first time, at least
+consciously, the people who sat there. He had two fellow-passengers, a
+man and a woman. The man seemed to belong to the skilled artisan class,
+decently dressed, of sober and quiet manner. His well-marked features,
+the prominent nose, keen grey eyes, and thick reddish moustache, spoke
+eloquently of "character" and somewhat of thought. The woman was old,
+past sixty, a little withered creature, insignificant of face, her mouth
+a button, her hair grey, scanty, and ill-nourished.
+
+The man was sitting opposite to Gortre and they fell into talk after a
+time on trivial subjects. The stranger was civil, but somewhat
+assertive. He did not use the ordinary "sir."
+
+Suddenly, with a slight smile of anticipation, he seemed to gather
+himself up for discussion.
+
+"Well," he said, "I don't wish individuals no particular harm, you'll
+understand, but speaking general, I suppose you realise that your job's
+over. The Church will be swept away for good 'n' all in a few months
+now, and to my way of thinking it'll be the best thing as 'as ever come
+to the country. The Church has always failed to reach the labourin'
+man."
+
+"Because the labouring man has generally failed to reach the Church,"
+said Gortre, smiling. "But you mean Disestablishment is near, I
+suppose?"
+
+"That's it, mister," said the man. "It must come now, and about time,
+too, after all these centuries of humbug. I used to go to church years
+back and sing 'The Church's one foundation.' Its foundation's been
+proved a pack o' lies now, and down it comes. Disestablishment will
+prove the salvation of England. When religion's swept away by act o'
+Parliament, then men will have an opportunity of talking sense and
+seeing things clearly."
+
+He spoke without rudeness but with a certain arrogance and an obvious
+satisfaction at the situation. Here was a parson cornered, literally,
+forced to listen to him, with no way of escape. Gortre imagined that he
+was congratulating himself that this was not a corridor train.
+
+"I think Disestablishment is very likely to come indeed," said Gortre,
+"and it will come the sooner for recent events. Of course I think that
+it will be most barefaced robbery to take endowments from the Church
+which are absolutely her own property, and use them for secular
+purposes, but I'm not at all sure that it wouldn't be an excellent thing
+for the Church after all. But you seem to think that Disestablishment
+will destroy _religion_. That is an entire mistake, as you will find."
+
+"It's destroyed already," said the man, "let alone what's _going_ to
+happen. Since what they've found out in Jerusalem the whole thing's gone
+puff! like blowin' out a match. You can't get fifty people together in
+any town what believe in religion any more. The religion of common sense
+has come now, and it's come to stay."
+
+A voice with a curious singing inflection came from the corner of the
+carriage, a voice utterly unlike the harsh North-country accent of the
+workman. The old woman was beginning to speak.
+
+Gortre recognised the curious Cornish tones at once, and looked up with
+sudden interest.
+
+"You'm wrong, my son," said the old woman, "bitter wrong you be, and
+'tis carnal vanity that spakes within you. To Lostwithul, where I bide,
+I could show 'ee different to what you do say."
+
+The workman, a good-humoured fellow enough, smiled superior at the odd
+old thing. The wrinkled face had become animated, two deep lines ran
+from the nostrils to the corner of the lips, hard and uncompromising.
+The eyes were bright.
+
+"Well, Mother," he said, "let's hear what _you've_ got ter say. Fair
+do's in argument is only just and proper."
+
+"Ah!" she replied, "it's easy to go scat when you've not got love of the
+Lard in your heart. I be gone sixty years of age, and many as I can mind
+back-along as have trodden the path of sorrow. There be a brae lot o'
+fools about."
+
+The workman winked at Gortre with huge enjoyment, and settled himself
+comfortably in his place.
+
+"Then you don't hold with Disestablishing the Church, Mother?" he said.
+
+"I do take no stock in Church," she replied, "begging the gentleman's
+pardon"--this to Gortre. "I was born and bred a Wesleyan and such I'm
+like to die. How should I know what they'll be doing up to London church
+town? This here is my first visit to England to see my daughter, and
+it'll be the last I've a mind to take. You should come to Cornwall, my
+dear, and then you'll see if religion's over and done away with."
+
+"But you've heard of all as they've just found out at Jerusalem, surely?
+It's known now that Christ never was what He made out to be. He won't
+save no more sinners,--it's all false what the Bible says, it's been
+_proved_. I suppose you've heard about _that_ in Cornwall?"
+
+"I was down to the shop," said the old lady, with the gentle contempt of
+one speaking to a foolish child. "I was down to the shop December month,
+and Mrs. Baragwaneth showed me the _Western Morning News_ with a picture
+and a lot of talk saying the Bible was ontrue, and Captain Billy Peters,
+of Treurthian mine, he was down-along too. How 'a did laugh at 'un! 'My
+dear,' he says, ''tis like the coast guards going mackerel-seining.
+Night after night have they been out, and shot the nets, too, for they
+be alwass seein' something briming, thinking it a school o' fish, and
+not knowing 'tis but moonshine. It's want of _experience_ that do make
+folk talk so.'"
+
+"That's all very well, Mother," answered the man, slightly nettled by
+the placid assurance of her tone. "That's all pretty enough, and though
+I don't understand your fishing terms I can guess at your meaning. But
+here's the _proof_ on one side and nothing at all on t'other. Here's all
+the learned men of all countries as says the Bible is not true, _and
+proving_ it, and here's you with no learning at all just saying it _is_,
+with no proof whatever."
+
+"Do 'ee want proof, then?" she answered eagerly, the odd see-saw of her
+voice becoming more and more accentuated in her excitement. "I tell 'ee
+ther's as many proofs as pilchards in the say. Ever since the Lard
+died--ah! 'twas a bitter nailing, a bitter nailing, my dear!"--she
+paused, almost with tears in her voice, and the whole atmosphere of the
+little compartment seemed to Basil to be irradiated, glorified by the
+shining faith of the old dame--"ever since that time the proofs have
+been going on. Now I'll tell 'ee as some as I've see'd, my son. Samson
+Trevorrow to Carbis water married my sister, May Rosewarne, forty years
+ago. He would drink something terrible bad, and swear like a foreigner.
+He'd a half-share in a trawler, three cottages, and money in the bank.
+First his money went, then his cottages, and he led a life of sin and
+brawling. He were a bad man, my dear. Every one were at 'un for an
+ongodly wastrel, but 'a kept on. An' the Lard gave him no children; May
+could not make a child to him, for she were onfruitful, but he would not
+change. All that folk with sense could do was done, but 't were no
+use."
+
+"Well, I know the sort of man," said the workman, with conviction. His
+interest was roused, that unfailing interest which the poorer classes
+take in each other's family history.
+
+"Then you do know that nothing won't turn them from their evil ways?"
+
+"When a chap gets the drink in him like that," replied the artisan,
+"there's no power that will take him from it. He'd go through sheet iron
+for it."
+
+"And so would Samson Trevorrow, my dear," she continued. "One night he
+came home from Penzance market, market-peart, as the saying is, drunk if
+you will. My sister said something to 'un, what 't was I couldn't say,
+but he struck her, for the first time. Next morning was the Sunday, and
+when she told him of what he'd done overnight, he was shamed of himself,
+and she got him to come along with her to chapel. 'T was a minister from
+Bodmin as prached, and 'ee did prache the Lard at Sam until the Word got
+hold on 'un and the man shook with repentance at his naughty life. He
+did kneel down before them all and prayed for forgiveness, and for the
+Lard to help 'un to lead a new life. From that Sabbath till he died,
+many years after, Sam never took anything of liquor, he stopped his
+sweering and carrying on, and he lived as a good man should. And in a
+year the Lard sent 'un a son, and if God wills I shall see the boy this
+afternoon, for he's to meet the train. There now, my son, that be gospel
+truth what I tell 'ee. After that can you expect any one with a grain of
+sense to listen to such foolish truck as you do tell? The Lard did that
+for Samson Trevorrow, changed 'un from black to white, 'a did. If the
+Queen herself were to tell me that the Lard Jesus wasn't He, I wouldn't
+believe her."
+
+As Gortre drove from Euston through the thronged veins of London
+towards the Inn, he thought much and with great thankfulness of the
+little episode in the train. Such simple faith, such supreme conviction,
+was, he knew, the precious possession of thousands still. What did it
+matter to these sturdy Nonconformists in the lone West that _savants_
+denied Christ? All over England the serene triumph of the Gospel, deep,
+deep down in the hearts of quiet people, gave the eternal lie to Schuabe
+and his followers. Never could they overcome the Risen Lord in the human
+heart. He began to realise more and more the ineffable wonder of the
+Incarnation.
+
+Before he had arrived at Chancery Lane the London streets began to take
+hold of him once more with the old familiar grip. How utterly unchanged
+they were! It seemed but a day since he had left them; it was impossible
+at the moment of re-contact to realise all that had passed since he had
+gone away.
+
+He was to have an immediate and almost terrifying reminder of it. The
+door of the chambers was not locked, and pushing it open, he entered.
+
+Always most sensitive to the _atmosphere_ of a room, moral as well as
+material, he was immediately struck by that of the chambers, most
+unpleasantly so, indeed. Certain indications of what had been going on
+there were easily seen. Others were not so assertive, but contributed
+their part, nevertheless, to the subtle general impression of the place.
+
+The air was stale with the pungent smell of Turkish tobacco and spirits.
+It was obvious that the windows had not been as freely opened as their
+wont. A litter of theatre programmes lay on one chair. On another was a
+programme of a Covent Garden ball and a girl's shoe of white satin, into
+which a fading bouquet of hothouse flowers had been wantonly crushed.
+The table was covered with the _débris_ of a supper, a _pâté_, some
+long-necked bottles which had held Niersteiner, a hideous box of pink
+satin and light blue ribbons half full of _glacé_ plums and chocolates.
+
+The little bust of the Hermes of Praxiteles, which stood on one of the
+bookcases, had been maltreated with a coarseness and vulgarity which
+hurt Basil like a blow. The delicate contour of the features, the pure
+white of the plaster, were soiled and degraded. The cheeks had been
+rouged up to the eyes, which were picked out in violet ink. The brows
+were arched with an "eyebrow pencil" and the lips with a vivid cardinal
+red.
+
+Basil put down his portmanteau and grew very pale as he looked round on
+these and many other evidences of sordid and unlovely riot. His heart
+sank within him. He began to fear for Harold Spence.
+
+Even as he looked round, Spence came into the room from his bed-chamber.
+He was dressed in a smoking jacket and flannel trousers. Basil saw at
+once that he had been drinking heavily. The cheeks were swollen under
+the pouch of the eye, he was unshaven, and his manner was full of noisy
+and tremulous geniality.
+
+There are men in whom a week or two of sudden relapse into old and evil
+courses has an extraordinarily visible effect. Spence was one of them.
+At the moment he looked as the clay model compares with the finished
+marble.
+
+Gortre was astounded at the change, but one thing the modern London
+clergyman learns is tact. The situation was obvious, it explained itself
+at once, and he nerved himself to deal with it warily and carefully.
+
+Spence himself was ill at ease at they went through the commonplaces of
+meeting. Then, when they were both seated by the fire and were smoking,
+he began to speak frankly.
+
+"I can see you are rather sick, old man," he said. "Better have it out
+and done with, don't you think?"
+
+"Tell me all about it, old fellow," said Gortre.
+
+"Well, there isn't very much to tell, only when I came back from
+Palestine after all that excitement I felt quite lost and miserable.
+Something seemed taken away out of one's life. Then there didn't seem
+much to do, and some of the old set looked me up and I have been
+racketing about town a good bit."
+
+"I thought you'd got over all that, Harold; because, putting it on no
+other grounds, you know the game is _not_ worth the candle."
+
+"So I had, Basil, before"--he swallowed something in his throat--"before
+_this_ happened. I didn't believe in it at first, of course, or, at
+least, not properly, when I got Hands's letter. But when I got out
+East--and you don't know and won't be able to understand how the East
+turns one's ideas upside down even at ordinary times--when I got out
+there and _saw_ what Hands had found, then everything seemed slipping
+away. Then the Commission came over and I was with them all and heard
+what they had to say. I know the whole private history of the thing from
+first to last. It made me quite hopeless--a terrible feeling--the sort
+of utter dreariness that Poe talks of that the man felt when he was
+riding up to the House of Usher. Of course, thousands of people must
+have felt just the same during the past weeks. But to have the one thing
+one leaned upon, the one hope that kept one straight in this life, the
+hope of another and happier one, cut suddenly out of one's
+consciousness! Is it any wonder that one has gone back to the old
+temptations? I don't think so, Basil."
+
+His voice dropped, an intense weariness showed in his face. His whole
+body seemed permeated by it, he seemed to sink together in his chair.
+All the mental pain he had endured, all the physical languor of fast
+living, that terrible nausea of the soul which seizes so imperiously
+upon the vicious man who is still conscious of sin; all these flooded
+over him, possessed him, as he sat before his friend.
+
+An enormous pity was in Basil's heart as he saw this concrete weakness
+and misery. He realised what he had only guessed at before or seen but
+dimly. He would not have believed this transformation possible; he had
+thought Harold stronger. But even as he pitied him he marvelled at the
+Power which had been able to keep the man pure and straight so long.
+Even this horrid _débâcle_ was but another, if indirect, testimony to
+the power of Faith.
+
+And, secondly, as he listened to his friend's story, a deep anger, a
+righteous wrath as fierce as flame burned within him as he thought of
+the two men who, he was persuaded, had brought this ruin upon another.
+In Spence he was able to see but a single case out of thousands which he
+knew must be similar to it. The evil passions which lie in the hearts of
+all men had been loosened and unchained; they had sprung into furious
+activity, liberated by the appalling conspiracy of Schuabe and Llwellyn.
+
+It is noticeable that there was by this time hardly any doubt in
+Gortre's mind as to the truth of his suspicions.
+
+"I understand it all, old man," he said, "and you needn't tell me any
+more. I can sympathise with you. But I have much to tell you--news, or,
+at least, theories, which you will be astounded to hear. Listen
+carefully to me. I believe that just as you were the instrument of first
+bringing this news to public notice, so you and I are going to prove its
+falsity, to unearth the most wicked conspiracy in the world's history.
+Pull yourself together and follow me with all your power. All hope is
+not yet gone."
+
+Basil saw, with some relief, the set and attentive face before him, a
+face more like the old Spence. But, as he began to tell his story, there
+flashed into his mind a sudden picture of the old Cornish woman in the
+train, and he marvelled at that greater faith as his eye fell upon the
+foul disorder of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE TRIUMPH OF SIR ROBERT LLWELLYN
+
+
+In the large, open fireplaces of the Sheridan Club dining-room, logs of
+pine and cedar wood gave out a regular and well-diffused warmth.
+Outside, the snow was still falling, and beyond the long windows,
+covered with their crimson curtains, the yellow air was full of soft and
+silent movement.
+
+The extreme comfort of the lofty, panelled dining-room was accentuated a
+hundred-fold, to those entering it, by the chilly experience of the
+streets.
+
+The electric lights burnt steadily in their silk shades, the gleams
+falling upon the elaborate table furniture in a thousand points of
+dancing light.
+
+At one of the tables, laid for two people, Sir Robert Llwellyn was
+sitting. He was in evening dress, and his massive face was closely
+scrutinising a printed list propped up against a wine-glass before him.
+His expression was interested and intent. By his side was a sheet of the
+club note-paper, and from time to time he jotted down something upon it
+with a slender gold pencil.
+
+The great archæologist was ordering dinner for himself and a guest with
+much thought and care.
+
+     _Crême d'asperge à la Reine_
+
+in his neat writing, the letters distinct from one another--almost like
+an inscription in Uncial Greek character, one might have fancied.
+
+_Turbot à l'Amiral_ promised well; the plump, powerful fingers wrote it
+down.
+
+_Poulardes du Mans rôties_ with _petits pois à la Française_ with a
+_salade Niçoise_ to follow; that would be excellent! Then just a little
+_suprème de pêches, à la Montreuil_, which is quite the best kind of
+_suprème_, then some _Parmesan_ before the coffee.
+
+"Quite a simple dinner, Painter," he said to the steward of the
+room,--the famous "small dining-room" with its alcoves and discreet
+corners,--"simple but good. Of course you will tell Maurice that it is
+for _me_. I want him to do quite his best. If you will send this list
+off to the kitchens with a message, we will go into the wines together."
+
+They went carefully into the wines.
+
+"Remember that we shall want the large liqueur glasses," he said, "with
+the Tuileries brandy. In fact, I think I'll take a little now, as an
+_apéritif_."
+
+The man bowed confidentially and went away. He returned with a long
+bottle of curious shape with an imperial crown blown in the glass. It
+was some of the famous brandy which had been lately found bricked up in
+a cellar close to the _Place Carrousel_, and was worth its weight in
+gold.
+
+On the tray stood one of the curious liqueur glasses lately introduced
+into the club by Sir Robert. It was the shape of a port-wine glass, but
+enormously large, capable of holding a pint or more, and made of glass
+as thin as tissue paper and fragile as straw. The steward poured a very
+little of the brandy into the great glass and twirled it round rapidly
+by the stem. This was the most epicurean device for bringing out the
+bouquet of the liqueur.
+
+Llwellyn sipped the precious liquid with an air of the most intense
+enjoyment. His face glowed with enthusiasm.
+
+"Wonderful, wonderful!" he said in a hushed voice. "There, take it away
+and bring me an olive. Then I will go down-stairs and wait for my friend
+in the smoking-room. You will serve the soup at five minutes past
+eight."
+
+He got up from the table and moved silently over the heavy carpet to the
+door.
+
+It was about seven o'clock. At eight Constantine Schuabe was coming to
+the Sheridan Club to dine.
+
+Sir Robert sat in the smoking-room with a tiny cigarette of South
+American tobacco, wrapped in maize leaf and tied round the centre with a
+tiny cord of green silk. His face expressed nothing but the most
+absolute repose. His correspondence with life was at that moment as
+complete as the most perfect health and discriminating luxury could make
+it.
+
+He stretched out his feet to the blaze and idly watched the reflection
+in the points of his shining boots.
+
+The room was quite silent now. A few men sat about reading the evening
+papers, and there was a subdued hum of talk from a table where two men
+were playing a casual game of chess, in which neither of them seemed
+much interested. A large clock upon the oak mantel-shelf ticked with
+muffled and soothing regularity.
+
+Llwellyn picked up a sixpenny illustrated paper, devoted to amusements
+and the lighter side of life, and lazily opened it.
+
+His eye fell upon a double-page article interspersed with photographs of
+actors and actresses. The article was a summing-up of the year's events
+on the lighter stage by an accepted expert in such matters. He read as
+follows:
+
+     "The six Trocadero girls whom I remember in Paris recently billed
+     as 'The Cocktails,' never forget that grace is more important in
+     dancing than mere agility. They are youthful looking, pretty and
+     supple, and their manœuvres are cunningly devised. The _diseuse_ of
+     the troupe, Mdlle. Nepinasse, sings the Parisian success, _Viens
+     Poupoule_, with considerable 'go' and swing. But in hearing her at
+     the 'Gloucester' the other night I could not help regretting the
+     disappearance of brilliant Gertrude Hunt from the boards where she
+     was so great an attraction. _Poupoule_, or its English equivalent,
+     is just the type of song, with its attendant descriptive dance, in
+     which that gay little lady was seen at her best. In losing her, the
+     musical-comedy stage has lost a player whose peculiar individuality
+     will not easily be replaced. Gertrude Hunt stood quite alone among
+     her sisters of the Profession. Who will readily forget the pert
+     _insouciance_, the little trick of the gloved hands, the mellow
+     calling voice? It has been announced that this popular favourite
+     has disappeared for ever from the stage. But there is a distinct
+     mystery about the sudden eclipse of this star, and one which
+     conjecture and inquiry has utterly failed to solve. Well, I, in
+     common with thousands of others, can only sigh and regret it. Yet I
+     should like to think that these lines would meet her eye, and she
+     may know that I am only voicing the wishes of the public when I
+     call to her to come back and delight our eyes and ears as before."
+
+By the side of the paragraph there was a photograph of Gertrude Hunt. He
+stared at it, his mind busy with memories and evil longing. The bold,
+handsome face, the great eyes, looked him full in the face. Never had
+any woman been able to hold him as this one. She had become part of his
+life. In his mad passion for the dancer he had risked everything, until
+his whole career had depended upon the good-will of Constantine Schuabe.
+There had been no greater pleasure than to satisfy her wishes, however
+tasteless, however vulgar. And then, hastening back to her side with a
+fortune for her (the second he had poured into the white grasping
+hands), he had found her with the severe young priest. A power which he
+was unable to understand had risen up as a bar to his enormous egoism.
+She had gone, utterly disappeared, vanished as a shadow vanishes at the
+moving of a light.
+
+And all his resources, all those of the theatre people with whom she had
+been so long associated, had utterly failed to trace her.
+
+The Church had swallowed her up in its mystery and gloom. She was lost
+to him for ever. And the fierce longing to be with her once more burnt
+within him like the unhallowed flame upon the altar of an idol.
+
+As he regarded the chaos into which the Church was plunged he would
+laugh to himself in horrid glee. His indifference to all forms of
+religious congregations had gone. He felt an active and bitter hatred
+now hardly less than that of Schuabe himself. And all the concentrated
+hatred and incalculable malice that his poisoned brain distilled was
+focussed and directed upon the young curate who had been the means and
+instrument of his discomfiture. He had begun to plan schemes of swift
+revenge, laughing at himself sometimes for the crude melodrama of his
+thoughts.
+
+As a waiter with his powdered hair and white silk stockings showed
+Schuabe into the smoking-room, the Jew saw with surprise the flushed and
+agitated face of his host, so unlike its usual sensual serenity. He
+wondered what had arisen to disturb Llwellyn, and he made up his mind
+that he would know it before the evening was over.
+
+Schuabe, on his part, seemed depressed and in poor spirits. There was a
+restlessness, quite foreign to his usual composure, which appeared in
+little nervous tricks of his fingers. He toyed with his wine-glass and
+did poor justice to the careful dinner.
+
+"Everything is going on very well," Llwellyn said. "My book is nearly
+finished, and the American rights were sold yesterday. The Council of
+the Free Churches have appointed Dr. Barker to write a counterblast. Who
+could have foreseen the stir and tumult in the world? Everything is
+toppling over in the religious world. I have read of your triumphal
+progress in the North--this asparagus soup is excellent."
+
+"I don't feel very much inclined to talk of these things to-night," said
+Schuabe. "To tell the truth, my nerves are a little out of order, and I
+have been doing too much. I've got in that ridiculous state in which one
+is constantly apprehending some sinister event. Everything has gone
+well, and yet I'm like this. It is foolish. How humiliating a thought it
+is, Llwellyn, that even intellects like yours and mine are entirely
+dependent upon the secretions of the liver!"
+
+He smiled rather grimly, and the disturbance of the regular repose and
+immobility of his face showed depths of weary unhappiness which betrayed
+the tumult within.
+
+He recovered himself quickly, anxious, it seemed, to betray his thoughts
+no further.
+
+"You seemed upset when I came into the club," he said. "You ought to be
+happy enough. Debts all gone, fifty thousand in the bank, reputation
+higher than ever, and all the world listening to everything you've got
+to say." He smiled rather bitterly, as Llwellyn raised a glass of
+champagne to his lips.
+
+"Exactly," said Llwellyn. "I've got everything I wanted a few months
+ago, and one of the principal inducements for wanting it has gone."
+
+"Oh! you mean that girl?" answered Schuabe, contemptuously. "Well, buy
+another. They are for sale in all the theatres, you know."
+
+"It's all very well to sneer like that," replied Llwellyn. "It's nothing
+to me that you're about as cold-blooded as a fish, but you needn't sneer
+at a man who is not. Because you enjoy yourself by means of asceticism
+you have no more virtue than I have. I am fond of this one girl; she has
+become necessary to my life. I spent thousands on her, and then this
+abominable young parson takes her away--" He ground his teeth savagely,
+his face became purple, he was unable to finish his sentence.
+
+Curiously enough Schuabe seemed to be in sympathy with his host's rage.
+A deadly and vindictive expression crept into his eyes, which were
+nevertheless more glittering and cold than before.
+
+"Gortre has come back to London. He has been here nearly a week," said
+Schuabe, quickly.
+
+The other started. "You know his movements then? What has he to do with
+_you_?"
+
+"More than, perhaps, you think. Llwellyn, that young man is dangerous!"
+
+"He's done me all the harm he can already. There is nothing else he can
+do, unless he elopes with Lady Llwellyn, an event which I should view
+with singular equanimity."
+
+"At any rate, I take sufficient interest in that person's movements to
+have them reported to me daily."
+
+"Why on earth----?"
+
+"Simply because he guesses, or will guess, at the truth about the
+Damascus Gate sepulchre!"
+
+Llwellyn grew utterly white. When he spoke it was with several
+preliminary moistenings of the lips.
+
+"But what proof can he have?"
+
+"Don't be alarmed, Llwellyn. We are perfectly safe in every way. Only
+the man is an enemy of mine, and even small enemies are obnoxious. He
+won't disturb either of us for long."
+
+The big man gave a sigh of relief. "Well, you manage as you think best,"
+he said. "Confound him! He deserves all he gets--let's change the
+subject. It's a little too Adelphi-like to be amusing."
+
+"I am going to hear Pachmann in the St. James's Hall. Will you come?"
+
+Llwellyn considered a moment. "No, I don't think I will. I'm going out
+to a supper-party in St. John's Wood later--Charlie Fitzgerald's, the
+lessee of the Piccadilly. I shall go home and read a novel quietly. To
+tell the truth, I feel rather depressed, too. Everything seems going too
+well, doesn't it?"
+
+Schuabe's voice shook a little as he replied shortly.
+
+For a brief moment the veil was raised. Each saw the other with eyes
+full of the fear that was lurking within them.
+
+For weeks they had been at cross purposes, simulating a courage and
+indifference they did not feel.
+
+Now each knew the truth.
+
+They knew that the burden of their terrible secret was beginning to
+press and enclose them with its awful weight. Each had imagined the
+other free from his own terror, that terror that lifts up its head in
+times of night and silence, the dread Incubus that murders sleep.
+
+The two men went out of the club together without speaking. Their hearts
+were beating like drums within them; it was the beginning of the agony.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Llwellyn, his coat exchanged for a smoking jacket, lay back in a leather
+chair in his library. Since his return from Palestine he had transferred
+most of his belongings to a small flat in New Bond Street. He hardly
+ever visited his wife now. The flat in Bloomsbury Court Mansions had
+been given up when Gertrude Hunt had gone.
+
+In New Bond Street Sir Robert lived alone. A housekeeper in the basement
+of the buildings looked after his rooms and his valet slept above.
+
+The new _pied à terre_ was furnished with great luxury. It was not the
+garish luxury and vulgar splendour of Bloomsbury Court--that had been
+the dancer's taste. Here Llwellyn had gathered round him all that could
+make life pleasant, and his own taste had seen to everything.
+
+As he sat alone, slightly recovered from the nervous shock of the
+dinner, but in an utter depression of spirits, his thoughts once more
+went back to his lost mistress.
+
+It was in times like these that he needed her most. She would distract
+him, amuse him, where a less vulgar, more intellectual woman would have
+increased his boredom.
+
+He sighed heavily, pitying himself, utterly unconscious of his
+degradation. The books upon the shelves, learned and weighty monographs
+in all languages, his own brilliant contributions to historical science
+among them, had no power to help him. He sighed for his rowdy Circe.
+
+The electric bell of the flat rang sharply outside in the passage. His
+man was out, and he rose to answer it himself.
+
+A friend probably had looked him up for a drink and smoke. He was glad;
+he wanted companionship, easy, genial companionship, not that pale devil
+Schuabe, with his dreary talk and everlasting reminder.
+
+He went out into the passage and opened the front door. A woman stood
+there.
+
+She moved, and the light from the hall shone on her face.
+
+The eyes were brilliant, the lips were half parted.
+
+It was Gertrude Hunt.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They were sitting on each side of the fire.
+
+Gertrude was pale, but her dark beauty blazed at him.
+
+She was smoking a cigarette, just as in the old time.
+
+A little table with a caraffe of brandy and bottles of seltzer in a
+silver stand stood between them.
+
+Llwellyn's face was one large circle of pleasure and content. His eyes
+gleamed with an evil triumph as he looked at the girl.
+
+"Good Heavens!" he cried, "why, Gertie, it's almost worth while losing
+you to have you back again like this. It's just exactly as it used to
+be, only better; yes, better! So you got tired of it all, and you've
+come back. What a little fool you were ever to go away, dear!"
+
+"Yes, I got tired of it," she repeated, but in a curiously strained
+voice.
+
+He was too exhilarated to notice the strange manner of her reply.
+
+"Well, I've got any amount of ready cash now," he said joyously. "You
+can have anything you like now that you've given up the confounded
+parsons and become sensible again."
+
+She seemed to make an effort to throw off something that oppressed her.
+
+"Now, Bob," she said, "don't talk about it. I've been a little fool, but
+that's over. What a lot you've got to tell me! What did you do all the
+time you were away? Where did you raise the 'oof from? Tell me
+_everything_. Let's be as we were before. No more secrets!"
+
+He seemed to hesitate for a moment.
+
+She saw that, and stood up. "Come and kiss me, Bob," she said. He went
+to her with unsteady footsteps, as if he were intoxicated by the fury of
+his passion.
+
+"Tell me everything, Bob," she whispered into his ear.
+
+The man surrendered himself to her, utterly, absolutely.
+
+"Gertie," he said, "I'll tell you the queerest story you ever heard."
+
+He laughed wildly.
+
+"I've tricked the whole world by Jove! cleared fifty thousand pounds,
+and made fools of the whole world."
+
+She laughed, a shrill, high treble.
+
+"Dear old Bob," she cried; "clever old Bob, you're the best of them all!
+What have you done this time? Tell me all about it."
+
+"By God, I will," he cried. "I'll tell you the whole story, little
+girl." His voice was utterly changed.
+
+"Yes, everything!" she repeated fiercely.
+
+Her body shook violently as she spoke.
+
+The man thought it was in response to his caresses.
+
+And the face which looked out over the man's shoulder, and had lately
+been as the face of Delilah, was become as the face of Jael, the wife of
+Heber the Kenite.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"No more secrets, Bob?"
+
+"No more secrets, Gertie; but how pale you look! Take some brandy,
+little girl. Now, I'm going to make you laugh! Listen!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+PROGRESS
+
+
+Sir Michael Manichoe, Father Ripon, and Harold Spence were sitting in
+Sir Michael's own study in his London house in Berkeley Square. A small
+circular table with the remains of a simple meal showed that they had
+dined there, without formality, more of necessity than pleasure.
+
+When a small company of men animated by one strenuous purpose meet
+together, the same expression may often be seen on the face of each one
+of them. The three men in the study were curiously alike at this moment.
+A grim resolution, something of horror, a great expectation looked out
+of their eyes.
+
+Sir Michael looked at his watch. "Gortre ought to be here directly," he
+said. "It won't take him very long to drive from Victoria. The train
+must be in already."
+
+Father Ripon nodded, without speaking.
+
+There was another interval of silence.
+
+Then Spence spoke. "Of course it is only a _chance_," he said. "Gertrude
+Hunt may very likely be able to give us no information whatever. One can
+hardly suppose that Llewellyn would confide in her."
+
+"Not fully," said Father Ripon. "But there will be letters probably. I
+feel sure that Gortre will come back with some contributory evidence, at
+all events. We must go to work slowly, and with the greatest care."
+
+"The greatest possible care," repeated Sir Michael. "On the shoulders of
+us four people hangs an incredible burden. We must do nothing until we
+are _sure_. But ever since Gortre's suspicions have been known to me,
+ever since Schuabe asked you that curious question in the train, Ripon,
+I have felt absolutely assured of their truth. Everything becomes clear
+at once. The only difficulty is the difficulty of believing in such
+colossal wickedness, coupled with such supreme daring."
+
+"It is hard," said Father Ripon. "But probably one's mind is dazzled
+with the consequences, the _size_, and immensity of the fraud. Apart
+from this question of bigness, it may be that there is, given a certain
+Napoleonic type of brain, no more danger or difficulty in doing such
+gigantic evil than in doing evil on a smaller scale."
+
+"Perhaps the size of the operation blinds people--" Spence was
+continuing, when the door opened and the butler showed Gortre into the
+room.
+
+He wore a heavy black cloak and carried a Paisley travelling rug upon
+his arm.
+
+The three waiting men started up at his approach, with an unspoken
+question on the lips of each one of them.
+
+Gortre began to speak at once. He was slightly flushed from his ride
+through the keen, frosty air of the evening. His manner was brisk,
+hopeful.
+
+"The interview was excessively painful, as I had anticipated," he began.
+"The result has been this: I have been able to get no direct absolute
+confirmation of what we think. On the other hand, what I _have_ heard
+establishes something and has made me morally certain that we are on the
+right track. I think there can be no doubt about that. Again, there is a
+strong possibility that we shall know much more very shortly."
+
+"Have you had anything to eat?" asked Sir Michael.
+
+"No, sir, and I'm hungry after my journey. I'll have some of this cold
+beef, and tell you everything that has happened while I eat."
+
+He sat down, began his meal, and told his story in detail.
+
+"I found Miss Hunt," he said, "in her little cottage by the coast-guard
+watch-house, looking over the sea. Of course, as you know, she is known
+as Mrs. Hunt in the village. Only the rector knows her story--she has
+made herself very beloved in Eastworld, even in the short time she has
+been there. I asked her, first of all, about her life in general. Then,
+without in any way indicating the object of my visit--at that point--I
+led the conversation up to the subject of the Palestine 'discovery.' Of
+course she had heard of it, and knew all the details. The rector had
+preached upon it, and the whole village, so it seems, was in a ferment
+for a week or so. Then, in both Church and the Dissenting chapels--there
+are two--the whole thing died away in a marvellous manner. The history
+of it was extremely interesting. Every one came to service just the same
+as usual, life went on in unbroken placidity. The fishermen, who compose
+the whole population of the village, absolutely _refused_ to believe or
+discuss the thing. So utterly different from townspeople! They simply
+felt and knew intuitively that the statements made in the papers _must_
+be untrue. So without argument or worry they ignored it. Miss Hunt said
+that the church has been fuller than ever before, the people coming as a
+sort of stubborn protest against any attack upon the faith of their
+fathers. For her own part, when she realised what the news meant or
+would mean, Miss Hunt had a black time of terror and struggle. She is a
+woman with a good brain, and saw at once what it would mean to her. Her
+own words were infinitely pathetic. 'I went out on the sands,' she said,
+'and walked for miles. Then when I was tired out I sat down and cried,
+to think that there would never be any Jesus any more to save poor
+girls. It seemed so empty and terrible, and I'd only been trying to be
+good such a short time. I went to evensong when I got back; the bell was
+tolling just as usual. And as I sat there I saw that it _couldn't_ be
+true that Jesus was just a good man, and not God. I wondered at myself
+for doubting, seeing what He'd done for me. If the paper was right, then
+why was it I was so happy, happier than ever before in my life--although
+I am going to die soon? Why was it that I could go away and leave Bob
+and the old life? why was it that I could see Jesus in my walks, hear
+the wind praying--feel that everything was speaking of Him?' That was
+the gist of what she said, though there was much more. I wish I could
+tell you adequately of the deep conviction in her voice and eyes. One
+doesn't often see it, except in very old people. After this I began to
+speak of our suspicions as delicately as possible. It was horribly
+difficult. One was afraid of awakening old longings and recalling that
+man's influence. I was relieved to find that she took it very well
+indeed. Her feelings towards the man have undergone a complete change.
+She fears him, not because he has yet an influence over her, but with a
+hearty fear and horror of the life she was living with him. When I told
+her what we thought, she began at once by saying that from what she knew
+of Llwellyn he would not stop even at such wickedness as this. She said
+that he only cared for two things, and kept them quite distinct. When he
+is working he throws his whole heart into what he is doing, and he will
+let no obstacle stand in his way. He wants to constantly assure himself
+of his own pre-eminence in his work. He must be first at any cost. When
+his work is over he dismisses it absolutely from his thoughts, and lives
+entirely for gross, material pleasures. The man seems to pursue these
+with a horrid, overwhelming eagerness. I gather that he must be one of
+the coldest and most calculating sybarites that breathes. The actual
+points I have gathered are these, and I think you will see that they are
+extremely important. Llwellyn was indebted enormously to Schuabe.
+Suddenly, Miss Hunt tells me, when Llwellyn's financial position began
+to be very shaky, Schuabe forgave him the old debts and paid him a large
+sum of money. Llwellyn paid off a lot of the girl's debts, and he told
+her that the money had come from that source. It was not a loan this
+time, he said to her, but a payment for some work he was about to do. He
+also impressed the necessity of silence upon her. While away he wrote
+several times to her--once from Alexandria, from one or two places on
+the Continent, _and twice from the German hotel, the_ 'Sabîl,' _in
+Jerusalem_."
+
+There was a sudden murmur from one or two men who were listening to
+Gortre's narrative. He had long since forgotten to eat and was leaning
+forward on the table. He paused for a moment, drank a glass of water,
+and concluded:
+
+"This then is all that I know at present, but it gives us a basis. We
+know that Sir Robert Llwellyn was staying privately at Jerusalem. Miss
+Hunt was instructed to write to him under the name of the Rev. Robert
+Lake, and she did so, thinking that his incognito was assumed owing to
+the kind of pleasures he was pursuing, and especially because of his
+recent knighthood. But in a week's time Miss Hunt has asked me to go
+down to Eastworld again, as she has hopes of getting other evidence for
+me. She will not say what this is likely to consist of, or, in fact,
+tell me anything about it. But she has hopes."
+
+"This is of great importance, Gortre," said Sir Michael; "we have
+something definite to go upon."
+
+"I will start again for Jerusalem without loss of a day," said Spence,
+his whole face lighting up and hardening at the thought of active
+occupation.
+
+"I was going to suggest it, Mr. Spence," said Sir Michael. "You will do
+what is necessary better than any of us; your departure will attract
+less notice. You will of course draw upon me for any moneys that may be
+necessary. If in the course of your investigations it may be--and it is
+extremely probable--may be necessary to buy the truth, of course no
+money considerations must stand in the way. We are working for the peace
+and happiness of millions. We are in very deep waters."
+
+Father Ripon gave a deep sigh. Then, in an instant, his face hardened
+and flushed till it was almost unrecognisable. The others started back
+from him in amazement. He began to tremble violently from the legs
+upwards. Then he spoke:
+
+"God forgive me," he said in a thick, husky voice. "God forgive me! But
+when I think of those two men, devils that they are, devils! when I
+regard the broken lives, the suicides, the fearful mass of crime, I----"
+
+His voice failed him. The frightful wrath and anger took him and shook
+him like a reed--this tall, black-robed figure--it twisted him with a
+physical convulsion inexpressibly painful to witness.
+
+For near a minute Father Ripon stood among them thus, and they were
+rigid with sympathy, with alarm.
+
+Then, with a heavy sob, he turned and fell upon his knees in silent
+prayer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A SOUL ALONE ON THE SEA-SHORE
+
+
+The little village of Eastworld is set on a low headland by the sea,
+remote from towns and any haunt of men. The white cottages of the
+fisherfolk, an inn, the church, and a low range of coast-guard
+buildings, are the only buildings there. Below the headland there are
+miles upon miles of utterly lonely sands which edge the sea in a great
+yellow scimitar as far as the eye can carry, from east to west.
+
+Hardly any human footsteps ever disturb the vast virgin smoothness of
+the sands, for the fisherfolk sail up the mouth of a sluggish tidal
+river to reach the village. All day long the melancholy sea-birds call
+to each other over the wastes, and away on the sky-line, or so it seems
+to any one walking upon the sands, the great white breakers roll and
+boom for ever.
+
+Over the flat expanses the tide, with no obstacle to slacken or impede
+its progress, rushes with furious haste--as fast, so the fisherfolks
+tell, as a good horse in full gallop.
+
+It was the beginning of the winter afternoon on the day after Gortre had
+visited Eastworld.
+
+There was little wind, but the sky hung low in cold and menacing clouds,
+ineffably cheerless and gloomy.
+
+A single figure moved slowly through these forbidding solitudes. It was
+Gertrude Hunt. She wore a simple coat and skirt of grey tweed, a
+tam-o'-shanter cap of crimson wool, and carried a walking cane.
+
+She had come out alone to think out a problem out there between the sea
+and sky, with no human help or sympathy to aid her.
+
+The strong, passionate face was paler than before and worn by suffering.
+Yet as she strode along there was a wild beauty in her appearance which
+seemed to harmonise with the very spirit and meaning of the place where
+she was. And yet the face had lost the old jaunty hardihood. Qualities
+in it which had before spoken of an impudent self-sufficiency now were
+changed to quiet purpose. There was an appeal for pity in the eyes which
+had once been bright with shamelessness and sin.
+
+The woman was thinking deeply. Her head was bowed as she walked, the
+lips set close together.
+
+Gortre's visit had moved her deeply. When she had heard his story
+something within her, an intuition beyond calm reason, had told her
+instantly of its truth. She could not have said why she knew this, but
+she was utterly certain.
+
+Her long connection with Llwellyn had left no traces of affection now.
+As she would kneel in the little windy church on the headland and listen
+to the rector, an old friend of Father Ripon's, reading prayers, she
+looked back on her past life as a man going about his business in
+sunlight remembers some horrid nightmare of the evening past. She but
+rarely allowed her thoughts to dwell upon the former partner of her sin,
+but when she did so it was with a sense of shrinking and dislike. As the
+new Light which filled her life taught, she endeavoured to think of the
+man with Christian charity and sometimes to pray that his heart also
+might be touched. But perhaps this was the most difficult of all the
+duties she set herself, although she had no illusions about the past,
+realised his kindness to her, and also that she had been at least as bad
+as he. But now there seemed a great gulf between them which she never
+cared to pass even in thought.
+
+Her repentance was so sincere and deep, her mourning for her misspent
+life so genuine, that it never allowed her the least iota of spiritual
+pride--the snare of weaker penitents when they have turned from evil
+courses. Yet, try as she would, she could never manage to really
+identify her hopes and prayers with Llwellyn in any vivid way.
+
+And now the young clergyman, the actual instrument of her own salvation
+as she regarded him, had come to her with this story in which she had
+recognised the truth.
+
+In sad and eloquent words he had painted for her what the great fraud
+had meant to thousands. He told of upright and godly men stricken down
+because their faith was not strong enough to bear the blow. There was
+the curate at Wigan, who had shot himself and left a heart-breaking
+letter of mad mockery behind him; there were other cases of suicide.
+There was the surging tide of crime, rising ever higher and higher as
+the clergy lost all their influence in the slums of London and the great
+towns. He told her of Harold Spence, mentioning him as "a journalist
+friend of mine," explaining what a good fellow he was, and how he had
+overcome his temptations with the aid of religion and faith. And he
+described his own return to Lincoln's Inn, the disorder, and Harold's
+miserable story. She could picture it all so well, that side of life.
+She knew its every detail. And, moreover, Gortre had said "the evil was
+growing and spreading each day, each hour." True as it was that the
+myriad lamps of the Faithful only burned the brighter for the
+surrounding gloom, yet that gloom was growing and rolling up, even as
+the clouds on which her unseeing eyes were fixed as she walked along the
+shore. Men were becoming reckless; the hosts of evil triumphed on every
+side.
+
+The thought which came to her as Gortre had gradually unfolded the
+object of his visit was startling. She herself might perhaps prove to be
+the pivot upon which these great events were turning. It was possible
+that by her words, that by means of her help, the dark conspiracy might
+be unveiled and the world freed from its burden. She herself might be
+able to do all this, a kind of thank-offering for the miraculous change
+that had been wrought in her life.
+
+Yet, when it was all summed up, how little she had to tell Gortre after
+all! True, her information was of some value; it seemed to confirm what
+he and his friends suspected. But still it was very little, and it meant
+long delay, if she could provide no other key to open this dark door.
+And meanwhile souls were dying and sinking....
+
+She had asked Gortre to come to her again in a week.
+
+In that time, she had said, she might have some further information for
+him.
+
+And now she was out here, alone on the sands, to ask her soul and God
+what she was to do.
+
+The clouds fell lower, a cutting wind began to moan and cry over the
+sand, which was swept up and swirled in her face. And still she went on
+with a bitterness and chill as of death in her heart.
+
+She knew her power over her former lover,--if that pure word could
+describe such an unhallowed passion,--knew her power well. He would be
+as wax in her hands, and it had always been so. From the very first she
+had done what she liked with him, and there had always been an
+undercurrent of contempt in her thoughts that a man could be led so
+easily, could be made the doll and puppet of his own passion. Nor did
+she doubt that her power still remained. She felt sure of that. Even in
+her seclusion some news of his frantic attempts to find her had reached
+her. Her beauty still remained, heightened indeed by the slow complaint
+from which she was suffering. He knew nothing of that. And, as for the
+rest--the rouge-pot, the belladonna--well, they were still available,
+though she had thought to have done with them for ever.
+
+The idea began to emerge from the mist, as it were, and to take form and
+colour. She thought definitely of it, though with horror; looked it in
+the face, though shuddering as she did so.
+
+It resolved itself into a statement, a formula, which rang and dinned
+itself repeatedly into her consciousness like the ominous strokes of a
+bell heard through the turmoil of the gathering storm,--
+
+"_If I go back to Bob and pretend I'm tired of being good, he will tell
+me all he's done._"
+
+Over and over again the girl repeated the sentence to herself. It glowed
+in her brain, and burnt it like letters of heated wire. She looked up at
+the leaden canopy which held the wind, and it flashed out at her in
+letters of violet lightning. The wind carved it in the sand,--
+
+"_If I go back to Bob and pretend I'm tired of being good, he will tell
+me what he has done._"
+
+Could she do this thing for the sake of Gortre, for the sake of the
+world? What did it mean exactly? She would be sinning terribly once
+more, going back to the old life. It was possible that she might never
+be able to break away again after achieving her purpose; one did not
+twice escape hell. It would mean that she sinned a deadly sin in order
+to help others. Ought she to do that! Was that right?
+
+The wind fifed round her, shrieking.
+
+_Could she do this thing?_
+
+She would only be sinning with her body, not with her heart, and Christ
+would know why she did so. Would He cast her out for this?
+
+The struggle went on in her brain. She was not a subtle person, unused
+to any self-communing that was not perfectly straightforward and simple.
+The efforts she was making now were terribly hard for her to endure. Yet
+she forced her mind to the work by a great effort of will, summoned all
+her flagging energies to high consideration.
+
+If she went back it _might_ mean utter damnation, even though she found
+out what she wanted to find out. She had been a Christian so short a
+time, she knew very little of the truth about these matters.
+
+In her misery and struggle she began more and more to think in this way.
+
+Suddenly she saw the thing, as she fancied, and indeed said half aloud
+to herself, "in a common-sense light." Her face worked horribly, though
+she was quite unconscious of it.
+
+"It's better that one person, especially one that's been as bad as I
+have, should go to hell than hundreds and thousands of others."
+
+And then her decision was taken.
+
+The light died out of her face, the hope also. She became old in a
+sudden moment.
+
+And, with one despairing prayer for forgiveness, she began to walk
+towards her cottage--there was a fast train to town.
+
+She believed that there could hardly be forgiveness for her act, and yet
+the thought of "the others" gave her strength to sin.
+
+And so, out of her great love for Christ, this poor harlot set out to
+sin a sin which she thought would take Him away from her for ever.
+
+
+END OF BOOK II
+
+
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+
+" ... Woman fearing and trembling"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+WHAT IT MEANT TO THE WORLD'S WOMEN
+
+
+In her house in the older, early-Victorian remnants of Kensington, Mrs.
+Hubert Armstrong sat at breakfast. Her daughter, a pretty,
+unintellectual girl, was pouring out tea with a suggestion of flippancy
+in her manner. The room was grave and somewhat formal. Portraits of
+Matthew Arnold, Professor Green, and Mark Pattison hung upon the sombre,
+olive walls.
+
+Over the mantel-shelf, painted in ornamental chocolate-coloured letters,
+the famous authoress's pet motto was austerely blazoned,--
+
+"_The decisive events of the world take place in the intellect._"
+
+Indeed, save for the bright-haired girl at the urn, the room struck just
+that note. It would be difficult to imagine an ordinary conversation
+taking place there. It was a place in which solid chunks of thought were
+gravely handed about.
+
+Mrs. Armstrong wore a flowing morning wrap of dark red material. It was
+clasped at the smooth white throat by a large cameo brooch, a dignified
+bauble once the property of George Eliot. The clear, steady eyes, the
+smooth bands of shining hair, the full, calm lips of the lady were all
+eloquent of splendid unemotional health, assisted by a careful system
+of hygiene.
+
+She was opening her letters, cutting the envelopes carefully with a
+silver knife.
+
+"Shall I give you some more tea, Mother?" the daughter asked in a
+somewhat impatient voice. The offer was declined, and the girl rose to
+go. "I'm off now to skate with the Tremaines at Henglers," she said, and
+hurriedly left the room.
+
+Mrs. Armstrong sighed in a sort of placid wonder, as Minerva might have
+sighed coming suddenly upon Psyche running races with Cupid in a wood,
+and turned to another letter.
+
+It was written in firm, strong writing on paper headed with some
+official-looking print.
+
+
+     THE WORLD'S WOMAN'S LEAGUE
+
+     LONDON HEADQUARTERS,
+     100 REGENT STREET, S. W.
+
+     SECRETARY, MISS PAULL
+
+     "MY DEAR CHARLOTTE,--I should be extremely glad to see you here
+     to-day about lunch time. I must have a long and important talk with
+     you. The work is in a bad way. I know you are extremely busy, but
+     trust to see you as the matters for conference are urgent.
+     Your affectionate Sister,
+
+          "CATHERINE PAULL."
+
+
+Miss Paull was a well-known figure in what may be called "executive"
+life. Both she and her elder sister, Mrs. Armstrong, had been daughters
+of an Oxford tutor, and had become immersed in public affairs early in
+life. While the elder became a famous novelist and leader of "cultured
+doubt," the younger had remained unmarried and thrown herself with great
+eagerness into the movement which had for its object the strengthening
+of woman's position and the lightening of her burdens, no less in
+England than over the whole world.
+
+The "World's Woman's League" was a great unsectarian society with
+tentacles all over the globe. The Indian lady missionaries and doctors,
+who worked in the zenanas, were affiliated to it. The English and
+American vigilance societies for the safe-guarding of girls, the women
+of the furtive students' clubs in Russia, the Melbourne society for the
+supply of domestic workers in the lonely up-country stations of
+Australia, all, while having their own corporate and separate
+existences, were affiliated to, and in communication with, the central
+offices of the League in Regent Street.
+
+The League was all-embracing. Christian, non-Christian, or heathen, it
+mattered nothing. It aimed at the gigantic task of centralising all the
+societies for the welfare of women throughout the globe.
+
+On the board of directors one found the names and titles of all the
+humanitarians of Europe.
+
+The working head of this vast organisation was the thin, active woman of
+middle age whose name figured in a hundred blue-books, whose speeches
+and articles were sometimes of international importance, whose political
+power was undoubtable--Miss Catherine Paull.
+
+The most important function of the League, or one of its most important
+functions, was the yearly publication of a huge report or statement of
+more than a thousand pages. This annual was recognised universally as
+the most trustworthy and valuable summary of the progress of women in
+the world. It was quoted in Parliament a hundred times each session; its
+figures were regarded as authoritative in every way.
+
+This report was published every May, and as Mrs. Hubert Armstrong drove
+to Regent Street in her brougham she realised that points in connection
+with it were to be discussed, possibly with the various sectional
+editors, possibly with Miss Paull alone.
+
+As was natural, so distinguished an example of the "higher woman" as
+Mrs. Armstrong was a great help to the League, and her near relationship
+to the secretary made her help and advice in constant request.
+
+The office occupied two extensive floors in the quadrant, housing an
+army of women clerks, typewriters, and a literary staff almost
+exclusively feminine. Here, from morning till night, was a hum of busy
+activity quite foreign to the office controlled by the more drone-like
+men. Miss Paull contrived to interest the most insignificant of her
+girls in the work that was to be done, making each one feel that in the
+performance of her task lay not only the means of earning a weekly wage,
+but of doing something for women all over the world.
+
+In short, the League was an admirable and powerful institution, presided
+over by an admirable and earnest woman of wonderful organising ability
+and the gift of tact, that _extreme_ tact necessary in dealing with
+hundreds of societies officered and ruled by women whose official
+activities did not always quell that feminine jealousy and bickering
+which generally militate against success.
+
+It was some weeks since Mrs. Armstrong had seen her sister or
+communicated with her. The great events in Jerusalem, the chaos into
+which the holders of the old creeds had been thrown, had meant a series
+of platform and journalistic triumphs for the novelist. Her importance
+had increased a thousand-fold, her presence was demanded everywhere, and
+she had quite lost touch with the League for a time.
+
+As she entered her sister's room she was beaming with satisfaction at
+the memory of the past few weeks, and anticipating with pleasure the
+congratulations that would be forthcoming. Miss Paull, in the main,
+agreed with her sister's opinions, though her extraordinarily strenuous
+life and busy activities in other directions prevented her public
+adherence to them.
+
+Moreover, her position as head of the League, which included so many
+definitely Christian societies, made it inadvisable for her to take a
+prominent controversial part as Mrs. Armstrong did.
+
+The secretary's room was large and well lit by double windows, which
+prevented the roar of the Regent Street traffic from becoming too
+obtrusive.
+
+Except that there was some evidence of order and neatness on the three
+great writing-tables, and that the books on the shelves were all in
+their places, there was nothing to distinguish the place from the
+private room of a busy solicitor or merchant.
+
+Perhaps the only thing which gave the place any really individual note
+was a large brass kettle, which droned on the fire, and a sort of
+sideboard with a good many teacups and a glass jar full of what seemed
+to be sponge cakes.
+
+The two women greeted each other affectionately. Then Miss Paull sent
+away her secretary, who had been writing with her, expressing her desire
+to be quite alone for an hour or more.
+
+"I want to discuss the report with you, Charlotte," said Miss Paull,
+deftly pouring some hot water into a green stone-ware teapot.
+
+She removed her _pince-nez_, which had become clouded with the steam,
+and waited for Mrs. Armstrong to speak.
+
+"I expected that was it when I got your note, dear," said the novelist.
+"I am sorry I have been so much away of late. But, of course, you will
+have seen how my time has been taken up. Since all Our contentions have
+been so remarkably established, of course one is looked to a great
+deal. I have to be everywhere just at present. _John Mulgrave_ has been
+through three more editions during the last fortnight."
+
+"Yes, Charlotte," answered the sister, "one hears of you on all sides.
+It is a wonderful triumph from one point of view."
+
+Mrs. Armstrong looked up quickly, with surprise in her eyes. There was a
+strange lack of enthusiasm in the secretary's tone. Indeed, it was even
+less than unenthusiastic; it hinted almost of dislike, nearly of dismay.
+
+It could not be jealousy of the blaze of notoriety which had fallen upon
+Mrs. Armstrong, the lady knew her sister too well for that. For one
+brief moment she allowed herself the unworthy suspicion that Miss Paull
+had been harbouring Christian leanings, or had, in the stress and worry
+of overwork, permitted herself a sentimental adherence to the
+Christ-myth.
+
+But it was only for a single moment that such thoughts remained in her
+brain. She dismissed them at once as disloyal to her sister and
+undignified for herself.
+
+"I don't quite understand, Catherine," she said. "Surely from _every_
+point of view this glorious vindication of the truth is of
+_incalculable_ benefit to mankind. How can it be otherwise? Now that we
+know the great teacher Jesus----"
+
+She was beginning somewhat on the lines of her public utterances, with a
+slightly inspired look which, though habit had made mechanical, was
+still sincere, when her sister checked her with some asperity.
+
+"That is all well and good," she said, her rather sharp, animated
+features becoming more harsh and eager as she spoke. "You, Charlotte,
+are at the moment concerned with the future and with abstractions. I am
+busied with the present and with _facts_. However I may share your
+gladness at this vindication, in my official capacity, and more, in the
+interests of my life work, I am bound to deplore what has happened. I
+deplore it grievously."
+
+Placid and equable as was her usual temper of mind, Mrs. Armstrong was
+hardly proof against such a sweeping assertion as this.
+
+Her face flushed slightly.
+
+"Please explain," she said somewhat coldly.
+
+"That is why I wanted you to come to-day," answered Miss Paull. "I very
+much fear you will be more than startled at what I have to tell you and
+show you. My facts are all ready--piteous, heart-breaking facts, too.
+_We_ know, here, what is going on below the surface. _We_ are confronted
+by statistics, and theories pale before them. Our system is perfect."
+
+She made a movement of her arm and pointed to a small adjacent table, on
+which were arranged various documents for inspection.
+
+The novelist followed the glance, curiously disturbed by the sadness of
+the other's voice and the bitterness of her manner. "Show me what you
+mean, dear," she said.
+
+Miss Paull got up and went to the table. "I will begin with points of
+local interest," she said, "that is, with the English statistics. In
+regard to these I will call your attention to a branch of the Social
+Question. First of all, look at the monthly map for the current month
+and the one for the month before the Palestine Discovery."
+
+She handed two outline maps of Great Britain and Ireland to her sister.
+
+The maps were shaded in crimson in different localities, the colour
+being either light, medium, or dark. Innumerable figures were dotted
+over them, referring to comprehensive marginal notes. Above each map was
+printed:
+
+     SERIES D.--CRIMES AGAINST WOMEN
+
+And the month and year were written in below in violet ink.
+
+Mrs. Armstrong held the two maps, which were mounted on stiff card, and
+glanced from one to the other. Suddenly her face flushed, her eyes
+became full of incredulous horror, and she stared at her sister. "What
+is this, Catherine?" she said in a high, agitated voice. "Surely there
+is some mistake? This is terrible!"
+
+"Terrible, indeed," Miss Paull answered. "During the last month, in
+Wales, criminal assaults have increased _two hundred per cent_. In
+England scarcely less. In Ireland, with the exception of Ulster, the
+increase has been only eight per cent. I am comparing the map before the
+discovery with that of the present month. Crimes of ordinary violence,
+wife-beating and such like, have increased fifty per cent., on an
+average, all over the United Kingdom. We have, of course, all the
+convictions, sentences, and so forth. The local agents supply them to
+the British Protection Society, they tabulate them and send them here,
+and then the maps are made in this office ready for the annual report."
+
+"But," said Mrs. Armstrong with a shocked, pale face, "is it _certain_
+that this is a case of cause and effect?"
+
+"Absolutely certain, Charlotte. Here I have over a thousand letters from
+men and women interested in the work in all the great towns. They are in
+answer to direct queries on the subject. In order that there could be no
+possibility of any sectarian bias, the form has been sent to leading
+citizens, of all denominations and creeds, who are interested in the
+work. I will show you two letters at random."
+
+She picked out two of the printed forms which had been sent out and
+returned filled in, and gave them to Mrs. Armstrong. One ran:
+
+     "_Kindly state what, in your opinion, is the cause of the abnormal
+     increase of crimes against women in Great Britain during the past
+     month, as shown by the annexed map_.
+
+     "NAME. Rev. William Carr,
+     "Vicar of St. Saviour's,
+     "Birmingtown.
+
+     "The recent 'discovery' in Palestine, which appears to do away with
+     the Resurrection of Christ, is in my opinion entirely responsible
+     for the increase of crime mentioned above. Now that the Incarnation
+     is on all hands said to be a myth, the greatest restraint upon
+     human passion is removed. In my district I have found that the
+     moment men give up Christ and believe in this 'discovery,' the
+     moment that the Virgin birth and the manifestation to the Magdalen
+     are dismissed as untrue, women's claim to consideration, and
+     reverence for women's chastity, in the eyes of these men disappear.
+
+          "WILLIAM CARR."
+
+Mrs. Armstrong said nothing whatever, but turned to the other form. In
+this case the name was that of a Manchester alderman, obviously a
+Jew--Moses Goldstein, of Goldstein & Hildesheimer, chemical bleachers.
+
+In a flowing business hand the following remarks were written:
+
+     "Regrettable increase of crime due in my opinion to sudden wave of
+     disbelief in Christian doctrines. Have questioned men in my own
+     works on the subject. Record this as fact without pretending to
+     understand it. Crimes of violence on increase among Jewish workmen
+     also. Probably sympathetic reaction against morality, though as a
+     strict Jew myself find this doubly distressing.
+
+          "MOSES GOLDSTEIN."
+
+"The famous philanthropist," murmured Mrs. Armstrong.
+
+The lady seemed dazed. Her usual calm volubility seemed to have deserted
+her.
+
+"This is a terrible blow," said Miss Paull, sadly, "and day by day
+things are getting worse as figures come in. It seems as if all our work
+has been in vain. Men seem to be relapsing into the state of the
+barbaric heathen world. But there is much more yet. I will read you an
+extract from Mrs. Mary P. Corbin's letter from Chicago. You will
+remember that she is the organising secretary of the United States
+branch of the League."
+
+She took up a bundle of closely typewritten sheets.
+
+     "'The Friend to Poor Girls' Society' in this city reports a most
+     painful state of things. The work has suddenly fallen to pieces and
+     become totally disorganised. Many of the girls have left the home
+     and returned to lives of prostitution--there seems to be no
+     restraining influence left. In a few cases girls have returned,
+     after two or three weeks of sin, mere wrecks of their former
+     selves. A---- S---- was a well-known girl on the streets when she
+     was converted and brought to the home. Five weeks ago she went
+     away, announcing her intention of resuming her former life. She has
+     just returned in a dying condition from brutal ill-usage. She says
+     that her former experience was nothing to what she has lately
+     endured. Her words are terribly significant: '_I went back as I
+     thought it was no use being good any more now that there isn't any
+     Jesus. I thought I'd have a good old time. But it's not as it was.
+     Hell's broke loose in the streets. The men are a million times
+     worse than they were. It's hell now._'
+
+     "Another awful blow has been struck at the purity work. The state
+     of the lower parts of Chicago and New York City has become so bad
+     that even the municipal authorities have become seriously alarmed.
+     Unmentionable orgies take place in public. Accordingly a bill is to
+     be rushed through Congress licensing so many houses of ill-fame in
+     each city ward, according to the Continental system."
+
+She laid down the letter. "There is no need to read more than extracts,"
+she said. "The letter is full of horrors. I may mention that the law
+against polygamy in the Mormon State of Utah is on the point of being
+repealed, and there can be no doubt that things will soon be as bad as
+ever there. Here is a letter from the Bishop of Toomarbin, who is at
+present in Melbourne, Australia. A Bill is preparing in the House of
+Legislature to make the divorce laws for men as easy and simple as
+possible, while women's privileges are to be greatly curtailed in this
+direction. In Rhodesia the mine-captains are beginning to flog native
+women quite unchecked by the local magistrates. English magistrates----"
+
+"Stop, dear," said Mrs. Armstrong, with a sudden gesture almost of fear.
+There was a craven, hunted look in the eyes of this well-known woman.
+Her face was blanched with pain. She sat huddled up in her chair. All
+the stately confidence was gone. That proud bearing of equality, and
+more than equality, with men, which was so noticeable a characteristic
+of her port and manner, had vanished.
+
+The white hand which lifted a cup of scalding tea to her lips trembled
+like a leaf.
+
+The sisters sat together in silence. They sat there, names famous in the
+world for courage, ability, resource. To these two, perhaps more than to
+any others in England, had been given the power of building up the great
+edifice of women's enlightened position at the present day.
+
+And now?
+
+In a moment all was changed. The brute in man was awake, unchained, and
+loose. The fires of cruelty and lust were lit, they heard the roaring of
+the fires like the roaring of wolves that "devour apace and nothing
+said."
+
+Mrs. Armstrong was terribly affected. Her keen intelligence told her at
+once of coming horrors of which these were but the earliest signs.
+
+The roaring of a great fire, louder and more menacing, nearer ...
+nearer.
+
+Christ had gone from the world never to return--Christ Whom the proud,
+wishful, worldly woman had not believed in.... They were flogging girls,
+selling girls ... the fires grew greater and greater ... nearer!
+
+          MARY, PITY WOMEN!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+CYRIL HANDS REDUX
+
+
+For the first two weeks after Hands's return he was utterly bewildered
+by the rush of events in which he must take part and had little or no
+time for thought.
+
+His days were filled by official conferences with his chiefs at the
+Exploring Society, from which important but by no means wealthy body he
+had suddenly attained more than financial security.
+
+Meeting succeeded meeting. Hands was in constant communication with the
+heads of the Church, Government, and Society. Interviewers from all the
+important papers shadowed him everywhere. Despite his protests, for he
+was a quiet and retiring man, photographers fought for him, and his
+long, somewhat melancholy face and pointed fair beard stared at him
+everywhere.
+
+He had to read papers at learned societies, and afterwards women came
+and carried him off to evening parties without possibility of escape.
+
+The Unitarians of England started a monster subscription for him, a
+subscription which grew so fast that the less sober papers began to
+estimate it day by day and to point out that the fortunate discoverer
+would be a rich man for life.
+
+Everywhere he was flattered, caressed, and made much of. In fact, he
+underwent what to some natures is the grimmest torture of a humane
+age--he became the MAN OF THE HOUR. Even by Churchmen and others most
+interested in denying the truth of the discovery, Hands was treated with
+consideration and deference. His own _bona fides_ in the matter was
+indubitable, his long and notable record forbade suspicion.
+
+Of Gortre Hands saw but little. Their greeting had been cordial, but
+there was some natural restraint, one fearing the attitude of the other.
+Gortre, no less than Hands, was much away from the chambers, and the
+pair had few confidences. Hands felt, naturally enough under the
+circumstances, that he would have been more comfortable with Spence. He
+was surprised to find him absent, but all he was able to glean was that
+the journalist had suddenly left for the Continent upon a special
+mission. Hands supposed that Continental feeling was to be thoroughly
+tested, and that the work had fallen to Spence.
+
+Meanwhile the invitations flowed in. The old staircase of the inn was
+besieged with callers. In order to escape them, Hands was forced to
+spend much time in the chambers on the other side of the landing, which
+belonged to a young barrister, Kennedy by name, who was able to put a
+spare sitting-room at his disposal. This gentleman, briefless and happy,
+was somewhat of the Dick Swiveller type, and it gave him intense
+pleasure to reconnoitre the opposite "oak" through the slit of his
+letter-box, and to report and speculate upon those who stood knocking
+for admission.
+
+How he loathed it all!
+
+The shock and surprise of it was not one of the least distressing
+features.
+
+Far away in the ancient Eastern city he had indeed realised the
+momentous nature of the strange and awful things he had found. But of
+the consequences to himself he had thought nothing, and of the effects
+on the world he had not had time to think.
+
+Hands had never wished to be celebrated. His temperament was poetic in
+essence, retiring in action. He longed to be back under the eye of the
+sun, to move among the memorials of the past with his Arab boys, to lie
+upon the beach of the Dead Sea when no airs stirred, and, suddenly, to
+hear a vast, mysterious breaker, coming from nowhere, with no visible
+cause, like some great beast crashing through the jungle.
+
+And he had exchanged all this for lunches at institutions, for hot rooms
+full of flowers and fools of women who said, "Oh, _do_ tell me all about
+your delightful discovery," smiling through their paint while the
+world's heart was breaking. And there was worse to come. At no distant
+date he would have to stand upon the platform at the Albert Hall, and
+Mr. Constantine Schuabe, M.P., Mrs. Hubert Armstrong, the writing
+woman--the whole crowd of uncongenial people--would hand him a cheque
+for some preposterous sum of money which he did not in the least want.
+There would be speeches----
+
+He was not made for this life.
+
+His own convictions of Christianity had never been thoroughly formulated
+or marked out in his brain. All that was mystical in the great history
+of Christ had always attracted him. He took an æsthetic pleasure in the
+beautiful story. To him more than to most men it had become a vivid
+_panoramic_ vision. The background and accessories had been part of his
+daily life for years. It was as the figure of King Arthur and his old
+knights might be to some loving student of Malory.
+
+And although his life was pure, his actions gentle and blameless, it had
+always been thus to him--a lovely and poetic picture and no more. He
+had never made a personal application of it to himself. His heart had
+never been touched, and he had never heard the Divine Voice calling to
+him.
+
+At the end of a fortnight Hands found that he could stand the strain no
+longer. His nerves were failing him; there was a constant babble of
+meaningless voices in his ear which took all the zest and savour from
+life. His doctor told him quite unmistakably that he was doing too much,
+that he was not inured to this gaiety, and that he must go away to some
+solitude by the sea and rest.
+
+The advice not only coincided with his own wishes, but made them
+possible. A good many engagements were cancelled, a paragraph appeared
+in the newspapers to say that Mr. Hands's medical adviser had insisted
+upon a thorough rest, and the man of the moment disappeared. Save only
+Gortre and the secretary of the Exploring Society, no one knew of his
+whereabouts.
+
+In a week he was forgotten. Greater things began to animate
+Society--harsh, terrible, ugly things. There was no time to think of
+Hands, the instrument which had brought them about.
+
+The doctor had recommended the remotest parts of Cornwall. Standing in
+his comfortable room at Harley Street, he expatiated, with an
+enthusiastic movement of his hand, upon the peace to be found in that
+lost country of frowning rocks and bottle-green seas, where, so far is
+it from the great centres of action, men still talk of "going into
+England" as if it were an enterprise, an adventure.
+
+Two days found him at a lonely fishing cove, rather than village,
+lodging in the house of a coast-guard, not far from Saint Ives.
+
+A few whitewashed houses ran down to the beach of the little natural
+harbour where the boats were sheltered.
+
+On the shores of the little "Porth," as it was called, the fishermen sat
+about with sleepy, vacant eyes, waiting for the signal of watchmen on
+the moor above--the shrill Cornish cry of "Ubba!" "Ubba!" which would
+tell them the mackerel were in sight.
+
+Behind the cove, running inland, were the vast, lonely moors which run
+between the Atlantic and the Channel. It is always grey and sad upon
+these rolling solitudes, sad and silent. The glory of summer gorse had
+not yet clothed them with a fleeting warmth and hospitality. As far as
+the eye could reach they stretched away with a forlorn immensity that
+struck cold to Hands's heart. Peace was here indeed, but how austere!
+quiet, but what a brooding and cruel silence!
+
+Every now and again the roving eye, in its search for incident and
+colour, was caught and arrested by the bleak engine-house of some
+ancient deserted mine and the gaunt chimney which pointed like a leaden
+finger to the stormy skies above. Great humming winds swept over the
+moor, driving flocks of Titanic clouds, an Olympian army in rout, before
+their fierce breath.
+
+Here, day by day, Hands took his solitary walk, or sometimes he would
+sit sheltered in a hollow of the jagged volcanic rocks which set round
+about the cove a barrier of jagged teeth. Down below him a hard, green
+sea boiled and seethed in an agony of fierce unrest. The black
+cormorants in the middle distance dived for their cold prey. The
+sea-birds were tossed on the currents of the wild air, calling to each
+other with forlorn, melancholy voices. This remote Western world
+resounded with the powerful voices of the waves; night and day the gongs
+of Neptune's anger were sounding.
+
+In the afternoon a weary postman tramped over the moor. He brought the
+London newspapers of the day before, and Hands read them with a strange
+subjective sensation of spectatorship.
+
+So far away was he from the world that by a paradox of psychology he
+viewed its turmoil with a clearer eye. As poetry is emotion remembered
+in tranquillity, as a painter often prefers to paint a great canvas from
+studies and memory--quiet in his studio--rather than from the actual but
+too kinetic scene, so Hands as he read the news-sheets felt and lived
+the story they had to tell far more acutely than in London.
+
+He had more time to think about what he read. It was in this lost corner
+of the world that the chill began to creep over him.
+
+The furious sounds of Nature clamoured in his ears, assaulting them like
+strongholds; these were the objective sounds.
+
+But as his subjective brain grew clear the words his eyes conveyed to it
+filled it with a more awful reverberation.
+
+The awful weight grew. He began to realise with terrible distinctness
+_the consequences_ of his discovery. They stunned him. A carved
+inscription, a crumbling tomb in half an acre of waste ground. He had
+stumbled upon so much and little more. _He_, Cyril Hands, had found
+this.
+
+His straining eyes day by day turned to the columns of the papers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+     ALL YE INHABITANTS OF THE WORLD, AND DWELLERS ON THE EARTH, SEE YE,
+     WHEN HE LIFTETH UP AN ENSIGN ON THE MOUNTAINS.--ISAIAH XVIII: 3
+
+
+Hands awoke to terrible realisation.
+
+The telegrams in the newspapers provided him with a bird's-eye view, an
+epitomised summary of a world in tumult.
+
+Out of a wealth of detail, culled from innumerable telegrams and
+articles, certain facts stood out clearly.
+
+In the Balkan States, always in unrest, a crisis, graver than ever
+before, suddenly came about. The situation _flared_ up like a petrol
+explosion.
+
+A great revival of Mohammedan enthusiasm had begun to spread from
+Jerusalem as soon as Europe had more or less definitely accepted the
+discovery made by Cyril Hands and confirmed by the international
+committee.
+
+It was no longer possible to hold the troops of the Sultan in check. It
+was openly said by the correspondents that _instructions_ had been sent
+from Yildiz Kiosk to the provincial Valis in both European and Asiatic
+Turkey that Christians were to be exterminated, swept for ever from the
+world.
+
+Telegrams of dire importance filled the columns of the papers.
+
+Hands would read in one _Daily Wire_:
+
+     "PARIS (_From our own Correspondent_).--The Prince of Bulgaria has
+     indefinitely postponed his departure, and remains at the Hotel Ritz
+     for the present. It is impossible for him to progress beyond
+     Vienna. Dr. Daneff, the Bulgarian Premier, has arrived here. In the
+     course of an interview with a representative of _Le Matin_ he has
+     stated the only hope of saving the Christians remaining in the
+     Balkan States lies in the intervention of Russia. 'The situation,'
+     Dr. Daneff is reported to have said, 'has assumed the appearance of
+     a religious war. The followers of Islam are drunk with triumph and
+     hatred of the "Nazarenes." The recent discoveries in Jerusalem
+     simply mean a licence to sweep Christians out of existence. The
+     exulting cries of "Ashahadu, lá ílaha ill Allah" have already
+     sounded the death-knell of our ancient faith in Bulgaria.' M.
+     Daneff was extremely affected during the interview, and states that
+     Prince Ferdinand is unable to leave his room."
+
+Never before in the history of Eastern Europe had the future appeared so
+gloomy or the present been so replete with horror.
+
+The massacres of bygone years were as nothing to those which were daily
+flashed over the wires to startle and appal a world which was still
+Christian, at least in name.
+
+An extract from a leading article in the _Daily Wire_ shows that the
+underlying reason and cause was thoroughly appreciated and understood in
+England no less than abroad.
+
+     "In this labyrinth of myth and murder," the article said, "a
+     sudden and spontaneous outburst of hatred, of Mussulman hatred for
+     the Christian, has now--owing to the overthrow of the chief
+     accepted doctrine of the Christian faith--become a deliberate
+     measure of extermination adopted by a barbarous Government as the
+     simplest solution of the problem in the Near East. The stupendous
+     fact which has lately burst upon the world has had effects which,
+     while they might have been anticipated in some degree, have already
+     passed far beyond the bounds of the most confirmed political
+     pessimist's dream.
+
+     "From the _fact_ of the Jerusalem discovery, ambitious agitators
+     have hurried to draw their profit. Politicians have not hesitated
+     to provoke a series of massacres, and by playing upon the worst
+     forms of Mussulman fanaticism to organise that ghastliest system of
+     crime upon the largest and most comprehensive scale. The whole
+     thing is, moreover, immensely complicated by the utter
+     unscrupulousness of that association universally notorious as the
+     Macedonian Committee. These people, who may be described as a
+     company of aspirants to the crown of immortality earned by other
+     people's martyrdom, have themselves assisted in the work of
+     lighting the fires of Turkish passion, and they have helped to
+     provoke atrocities which will enable them to pose before the eyes
+     of the civilised world as the interesting victims of Moslem
+     ferocity."
+
+Thus Hands read in his rock cave above the boiling winter sea. Thus and
+much more, as the cloud grew darker and darker over Eastern Europe,
+darker and darker day by day.
+
+In a week it became plain to the world that Bulgarians, Servians, and
+Armenians alike had collapsed utterly before the insolent exultation of
+the Turks. The spirit of resistance and enthusiasm had gone. The
+ignorant and tortured peoples had no answer for those who flung foul
+insults at the Cross.
+
+As reflected in the newspapers, the public mind in England was becoming
+seriously alarmed at these horrible and daily bulletins, but neither
+Parliament nor people were as yet ready with a suggested course of
+action. The forces of disintegration had been at work; it seemed no
+longer possible to secure a great _body_ of opinion as in the old times.
+And Englishmen were troubled with grave domestic problems also. More
+especially the great increase of the worst forms of crime attracted
+universal attention and dismay.
+
+Then news came which shook the whole country to its depths. Men began to
+look into each other's eyes and ask what these things might mean.
+
+Hands read:
+
+     "Our special correspondent in Bombay telegraphs disquieting news
+     from India. The native regiments in Bengal are becoming difficult
+     to handle. The officers of the staff corps are making special
+     reports to headquarters. Three native officers of the 100th Bengal
+     Lancers have been placed under arrest, though no particulars as to
+     the exact reason for this step have been allowed to transpire."
+
+This first guarded intimation of serious disaffection in India was
+followed, two days afterwards, by longer and far more serious reports.
+The Indian mail arrived with copies of _The Madras Mail_ and _The Times
+of India_, which disclosed much more than had hitherto come over the
+cables.
+
+Long extracts were printed from these journals in the English dailies.
+
+Epitomised, Hands learned the following facts. From a mass of detail a
+few lurid facts remained fixed in his brain.
+
+The well-meant but frequently unsuccessful mission efforts in Southern
+India were brought to a complete and utter stand-still.
+
+By that thought-willed system of communication and the almost flame-like
+mouth-to-mouth carnage of news which is so inexplicable to Western
+minds, who can only understand the workings of the electric telegraph,
+the whole of India seemed to be throbbing with the news of the downfall
+of Christianity, and this within a fortnight of the publication of the
+European report.
+
+From Cashmere to Travancore the millions whispered the news to each
+other with fierce if secret exultation.
+
+The higher Hinduism, the key to the native character in India, the wall
+of caste, rose up grim and forbidding. The passionate earnestness of the
+missionaries was met by questions they could not answer. In a few days
+the work of years seemed utterly undone.
+
+Europeans began to be insulted in the Punjaub as they had never been
+since the days before the Mutiny. English officers and civilians also
+began to send their wives home. The great P. and O. boats were
+inconveniently crowded.
+
+In Afghanistan there was a great uneasiness. The Emir had received two
+Russian officers. Russian troops were massing on the north-west
+frontier. Fanatics began to appear in the Hill provinces, claiming
+divine missions. People began to remember that every fourth man, woman,
+and child in the whole human race is a Buddhist. Asia began to feel a
+great thrill of excitement permeating it through and through. There were
+rumours of a new incarnation of Buddha, who would lead his followers to
+the conquest of the West.
+
+Troops from all over India began to concentrate near the Sri Ulang Pass
+in the Hindu-Kush.
+
+Simultaneously with these ominous rumours of war came an extraordinary
+outburst of Christian fanaticism in Russia. The peasantry burst into a
+flame of anger against England. The priests of the Greek Church not only
+refused to believe in the Palestine discovery, but they refused to
+ignore it, as the Roman Catholics of the world were endeavouring to do.
+
+They began to preach war against Great Britain for its infidelity, and
+the political Powers seized the opportunity to use religious fanaticism
+for their own ends.
+
+All these events happened with appalling _swiftness_.
+
+In the remote Cornish village Hands moved as in a dream. His eyes saw
+nothing of his surroundings, his face was pallid under the brown of his
+skin. Sometimes, as he sat alone on the moors or by the sea, he laughed
+loudly. Once a passing coast-guard heard him. The man told of it among
+the fishermen, and they regarded their silent visitor with something of
+awe, with the Celtic compassion for those mentally afflicted.
+
+On the first Sunday of his arrival Hands heard the deep singing of hymns
+coming from the little white chapel on the cliff. He entered in time for
+the sermon, which was preached by a minister who had walked over from
+Penzance.
+
+Here all the turmoil of the world beyond was ignored. It seemed as
+though nothing had ever been heard of the thing that was shaking the
+world. The pastor preached and prayed, the men and women answered with
+deep, groaning "Amens." It all mattered nothing to them. They heeded it
+no more than the wailing wind in the cove. The voice of Christ was not
+stilled in the hearts of this little congregation of the Faithful.
+
+This chilled the recluse. He could find no meaning or comfort in it.
+
+That evening he heard the daughter of the coast-guard with whom he
+lodged singing. It was a wild night, and Hands was sitting by the fire
+in his little sitting-room. Outside the wind and rain and waves were
+shouting furiously in the dark.
+
+The girl was playing a few simple chords on the harmonium and singing to
+them.
+
+"For ever with the Lord."
+
+An untuneful voice, louder than need be, but with what conviction!
+
+Hands tried to fix his attention on the newspaper which he held.
+
+He read that in Rhodesia the mine capitalists were moving for slavery
+pure and simple. It was proposed openly that slavery should be the
+penalty for law-breaking for natives. This was the only way, it
+asserted, by which the labour problem in South Africa could be solved.
+
+    "Life from the dead is in that word,
+      'Tis immortality."
+
+It seemed that there was small opposition to this proposal. It would be
+the best thing for the Kaffir, perhaps, this wise and kindly discipline.
+So the proposal was wrapped up.
+
+    "And nightly pitch my moving tent
+      A day's march nearer home."
+
+Hands saw that, quite suddenly, the _old horror of slavery had
+disappeared_.
+
+This, too, was coming, then? This old horror which Christians had
+banished from the world?
+
+    "So when my latest breath
+      Shall rend the veil in twain."
+
+Hands started. His thoughts came back to the house in which he sat. The
+girl's voice touched him immeasurably. He heard it clearly in a lull of
+the storm. Then another tremendous gust of wind drowned it.
+
+Two great tears rolled down his cheeks.
+
+It was midnight, and all the people in the house were long since asleep,
+when Hands picked up the last of his newspapers.
+
+It was Saturday's edition of the _London Daily Mercury_, the powerful
+rival of the _Wire_. A woman who had been to Penzance market had brought
+it home for him, otherwise he would have had to wait for it until the
+Monday morning.
+
+He gazed wearily round the homely room.
+
+Weariness, that was what lay heavy over mind and body--an utter
+weariness.
+
+The firelight played upon the crude pictures, the simple ornaments, the
+ship worked in worsted when the coast-guard was a boy in the Navy, the
+shells from a Pacific island, a model gun under a glass shade. But his
+thoughts were not prisoned by these humble walls and the humble room in
+which he sat. He heard the groaning of the peoples of the world, the
+tramp of armies, the bitter cry of souls from whom hope had been plucked
+for ever.
+
+He remembered the fair morning in Jerusalem when, with the earliest
+light of dawn, he had gone to work with his Arab boys before the heat of
+the day.
+
+From the Mosque of Omar he had heard the sonorous chant of the muezzin.
+
+    "THE NIGHT HAS GONE WITH THE DARKNESS, AND THE DAY APPROACHES WITH
+        LIGHT AND BRIGHTNESS!
+    "PRAISE GOD FOR SECURING HIS FAVOUR AND KINDNESS!
+    "GOD IS MOST GREAT! GOD IS MOST GREAT! I TESTIFY THAT THERE IS NO
+        GOD BUT GOD!
+    "I TESTIFY THAT MOHAMMED IS THE APOSTLE OF GOD!
+    "COME TO PRAYER!
+    "COME TO SECURITY!
+    "PRAYER IS BETTER THAN SLEEP!
+    "GOD IS MOST GREAT!
+    "THERE IS NO GOD BUT GOD!
+    "ARISE, MAKE MORNING, AND TO GOD BE THE PRAISE!"
+
+He had heard the magnificent chant as he passed by, almost kneeling with
+his Arabs. So short a time ago! Hardly three months--he had kept no
+count of time lately, but it could hardly be four months.
+
+How utterly unconscious he had been on that radiant morning outside the
+Damascus Gate! He had seen the men at work, and was sitting under his
+sun-tent writing on his pad; he was just lighting a cigarette, he
+remembered, when Ionides, the foreman, had come running up to him, his
+shrewd, brown face wrinkled with excitement.
+
+And now, even as he sat there on that stormy midnight, far from the
+world, even now the whole globe was echoing and reverberating with his
+discovery. He had opened the little rock chambers, and it seemed that
+the blows of the picks had set free a troop of ruinous spirits, who were
+devastating mankind.
+
+Pandora's box--that legend fitted what he had done, but with a deadly
+difference.
+
+He could not find that Hope remained. It would have been better a
+thousand times if the hot Eastern sun had struck him down that distant
+morning on his way through the city.
+
+The awful weight, the initial responsibility rested with _him_.
+
+_He_ alone had been the means by which the world was being shaken with
+horrors--horrors growing daily, and that seemed as if the end would be
+unutterable night.
+
+How the wind shrieked and wailed!
+
+    Εγω Ιωσηφ ὁ ἀπο Αριμαθειας.
+
+The words were written in fire on his mind!
+
+The wind was shrieking louder and louder.
+
+The Atlantic boomed in one continuous burst of sound.
+
+He looked once more at the leading article in the paper.
+
+It was that article which was long afterwards remembered as the "Simple
+Statement" article.
+
+The writer had spoken the thought that was by this time trembling for
+utterance on the lips and in the brains of all Englishmen--the thought
+which had never been so squarely faced, so frankly stated before.
+
+Here and there passages started out more vividly than the rest. The
+words seemed to start out and stab him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     "--So much for INDIA, where, sprung from the same Cause, the
+     indications are impossible to mistake.
+
+     "Let us now turn to the ANGLO-SAXON sprung communities other than
+     these Islands.
+
+     "In AMERICA we find a wave of lawlessness and fierce riot passing
+     over the country, such as it has never known before.
+
+     "The IRISHMEN and ITALIANS, who throng the congested quarters of
+     the great cities, are robbing and murdering PROTESTANTS and JEWS.
+     The UNITED STATES Legislature is paralysed between the necessity of
+     keeping order and the impossibility of resolution in the face of
+     this tremendous _bouleversement_ of belief.
+
+     "From AUSTRALIA the foremost prelate of the great country writes of
+     the utter overthrow of a communal moral sense, and concludes his
+     communication with the following pathetic words:
+
+     "_'Everywhere,'_ he says, _'I see morals, no less than the religion
+     which inculcates them, falling into neglect, set aside in a spirit
+     of despair by fathers and mothers, treated with contempt by youths
+     and maidens, spat upon and cursed by a degraded populace, assailed
+     with eager sarcasm by the polite and cultured.'_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "The terrible seriousness of the situation need hardly be further
+    insisted on here. Its reality cannot be more vividly indicated than
+    by the statement of a single fact.
+
+    "CONSOLS ARE DOWN TO SIXTY-FIVE
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "--and therefore we demand, in the name of humanity, a far more
+    comprehensive and representative searching into the facts of the
+    alleged 'discovery' at JERUSALEM. Society is falling to pieces as we
+    write.
+
+    "Who will deny the reason?
+
+    "Already, after a few short weeks, we are learning that the world
+    cannot go on without Christianity. That is the Truth which the world
+    is forced to realise. And no essay in sociology, no special pleading
+    on the part of Scientists or Historians, can shake our conviction
+    that a creed which, when sudden doubts are thrown upon it, can be
+    the means of destroying the essential fabric of human society, is
+    not the true and unassailable creed of mankind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "We foresee an immediate reaction. The consequences of the wave of
+    antichristian belief are now, and will be, so devastating, that sane
+    men will find in Disbelief and its consequences a glorious
+    recrudescence and assurance of Faith."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Hands stared into the dying fire.
+
+A solemn passage from John Bright's great speech on the Crimean War came
+into his mind. The plangent power and deep earnestness of the words were
+even more applicable now than then.
+
+     _"The Angel of Death has been abroad throughout the land: you may
+     almost hear the beating of his wings. There is no one, as when the
+     first-born were slain of old, to sprinkle with blood the lintel and
+     two side-posts of our doors, that he may spare and pass on."_
+
+So they were asking for another commission! Well, they might try that as
+a forlorn hope, but _he knew_ that his discovery was real. Could _he_ be
+mistaken possibly? Could that congress of the learned be all mistaken
+and imposed upon? It was not possible. It could not be. Would that it
+_were_ possible.
+
+There was no hope, despite the newspapers. For centuries the world had
+been living in a fool's paradise. He had destroyed it. It would be a
+hundred years before the echoes of his deed had died away.
+
+But the terrible weight of the world's burden was too heavy for him to
+bear. He knew that. Not for much longer could he endure it.
+
+The life seemed oozing out of him, pressed out by a weight--the
+sensation was physical.
+
+He wished it was all over. He had no hope for the future, and no fear.
+
+The weight was too heavy. The outside dark came through the walls, and
+began to close in on him. His heart beat loudly. It seemed to rise up in
+his throat and choke him.
+
+The pressure grew each moment; mountains were being piled upon him,
+heavier, more heavy.
+
+The wind was but a distant murmur now, but the weight was crushing him.
+Only a few more moments and his heart would burst. _At last!_
+
+The dark thing huddled on the hearth-rug, which the girl found when she
+came down in the morning, was the scholar's body.
+
+The newspaper he had been reading lay upon his chest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+A LUNCHEON PARTY
+
+
+Constantine Schuabe's great room at the Hotel Cecil had been entirely
+refurnished and arranged for the winter months.
+
+The fur of great Arctic beasts lay upon the heavy Teheran carpets, which
+had replaced the summer matting--furs of enormous value. The dark red
+curtains which hung by windows and over doors were worked with threads
+of dull gold.
+
+All the chairs were more massive in material and upholstered warmly in
+soft leather; the logs in the fireplace crackled with white flame,
+amethyst in the glowing cavern beneath.
+
+However the winter winds might sweep over the Thames below or the rain
+splash and welter on the Embankment, no sound or sign of the turmoil
+could reach or trouble the people who moved in the fragrant warmth and
+comfort of this room.
+
+For his own part Schuabe never gave any attention to the _mise-en-scène_
+by which he was surrounded, here or elsewhere. The head of a famous
+Oxford Street firm was told to call with his artists and undermen; he
+was given to understand that the best that could be done was to be done,
+and the matter was left entirely to him.
+
+In this there was nothing of the _parvenu_ or of an ignorance of art, as
+far as Schuabe was concerned. He was a man of catholic and cultured
+taste. But experience had taught him that his furnishing firm were
+trained to be catholic and cultured also, that an artist would see to it
+that no jarring notes appeared. And since he knew this, Schuabe
+infinitely preferred not to be bothered with details. In absolute
+contrast to Llwellyn, his mind was always busy with abstractions, with
+thought and forms of thought, things that cannot be handled or seen.
+They were the real things for him always.
+
+The millionaire sat alone by the glowing fire. He was wearing a long
+gown of camel's hair, dyed crimson, confined round the waist by a
+crimson cord. In this easy garment and a pair of morocco slippers
+without heels, he looked singularly Eastern. The whole face and figure
+suggested that--sinister, lonely, and splendid.
+
+The morning papers were resting on a chair by his side. He was reading
+one of them.
+
+It announced the death from heart disease of Mr. Cyril Hands while
+taking a few days' rest in a remote village of Cornwall. Not a shadow of
+regret passed over the regular, impassive face. The eyes remained in
+fixed thought. He was logically going over the bearings of this event in
+his mind. How could it affect _him_? _Would_ it affect him one way or
+the other?
+
+He paced the long room slowly. On the whole the incident seemed without
+meaning for him. If it meant anything at all it meant that his position
+was stronger than ever. The voice of the discoverer was now for ever
+silent. His testimony, his reluctant but convinced opinion, was upon
+record. Nothing could alter that. Hands might perhaps have had doubts in
+the future. He might have examined more keenly into the _way in which he
+came to examine the ground_ where the new tomb was hidden. Yes, this was
+better. That danger, remote as it had been, was over.
+
+As his eyes wandered over the rest of the news columns they became more
+alert, speculative, and anxious. The world was in a tumult, which grew
+louder and louder every hour. Thrones were rocking, dynasties trembling.
+
+He sank down in his chair with a sigh, passing his hand wearily over his
+face. Who could have foreseen this? It was beyond belief. He gazed at
+the havoc and ruin in terrified surprise, as a child might who had lit a
+little fire of straw, which had grown and devoured a great city.
+
+It was in this very room--just over there in the centre--that he had
+bought the brain and soul of the archæologist.
+
+The big man had stood exactly on that spot, blanched and trembling. His
+miserable notes of hand and promises to pay had flamed up in this fire.
+
+And now? India was slipping swiftly away; a bloody civil war was brewing
+in America; Central Europe was a smouldering torch; the whips of Africa
+were cracking in the ears of Englishmen; the fortunes of thousands were
+melting away like ice in the sun. In London gentlemen were going from
+their clubs to their houses at night carrying pistols and sword-sticks.
+North of Holborn, south of the Thames, no woman was safe after dark had
+fallen.
+
+He saw his face in an oval silver glass. It fascinated him as it had
+never done before. He gripped the leather back of a chair and stared
+fiercely, hungrily, at the image. It was _this_, this man he was
+looking at, some stranger it seemed, who had done all this. He
+laughed--a dreadful, mirthless, hollow laugh. This mass of phosphates,
+carbon, and water, this moving, talking thing in a scarlet gown, was the
+pivot on which the world was turning!
+
+His brain became darkened for a time, lost in an awful wonder. He could
+not realise or understand.
+
+And no one knew save his partner and instrument. _No one knew!_
+
+The secret seemed to be bursting and straining within him like some
+live, terrible creature that longed to rush into light. For weeks the
+haunting thought had grown and harassed him. It rang like bells in his
+memory. If only he could share his own dark knowledge. He wanted to take
+some calm, pale woman, to hold her tight and tell her all that he had
+done, to whisper it into her ears and watch the mask of flesh change and
+shrink, to see his words carve deep furrows in it, sear the eyes, burn
+the colour from the lips. He saw his own face was working with the mad
+violence of his imaginings.
+
+He _wrenched_ his brain back into normal grooves, as an engineer pulls
+over a lever. He was half-conscious of the simile as he did so.
+
+Turning away from the mirror, he shuddered as a man who has escaped from
+a sudden danger.
+
+_That_ above all things was fatal. His luxuriant Eastern imagination had
+been checked and kept in subjection all his life; the force of his
+intellect had tamed and starved it. He knew, none better, the end, the
+extinction of the brain that has got beyond control. No, come what may,
+he must watch himself cunningly that he did not succumb. A tiny speck in
+the brain, and then good-bye to thought and life for ever. He was a
+visitor of the Lancashire Asylum--had been so once at least--and he had
+seen the soulless lumps of flesh the doctors called "patients." ... "_I
+am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul_," he repeated
+to himself, and even as he did so, his other self sneered at the
+weakness which must comfort itself with a poet's rhyme and cling to an
+apothegm for readjustment.
+
+He tried to shut out the world's alarm from his mental eyes and ears.
+
+He went back to the scenes of his first triumph. They had been sweet
+indeed.
+
+Yes! worth all the price he had paid and might be called upon to pay.
+
+All over England his life's thought, his constant programme had been
+gloriously vindicated. They had hailed him as the prophet of Truth at
+first--a prophet who had cried in the wilderness for years, and who had
+at last come into his own.
+
+The voices of great men and vast multitudes had come to him as incense.
+He was to be the leader of the new religion of common sense. Why had
+they doubted him before, led away by the old superstitions?
+
+Men who had hated and feared him in the old days, had spoken against him
+and his doctrines as if both were abhorred and unclean, were his friends
+and servants now. Christians had humbled themselves to the
+representative of the new power. Bishops had consulted him as to the
+saving of the Church, and its reconstruction upon "newer, broader, more
+illuminated lines." They had come to him with fear--anxious, eager to
+confess the errors of the past, swift to flatter and suggest that, with
+his help, the fabric and political power of the Church might yet stand.
+
+He was shown, with furtive eyes and hesitating lips, from which the
+shame had not yet been cleansed, how desirable and necessary it was that
+in the reconstruction of Christianity the Church should still have a
+prominent and influential part.
+
+He had been a colossus among them all. But--and he thought of it with
+anger and the old amazement--all this had been _at first_, when the
+discovery had flashed over a startled world. While the thing was new it
+had been a great question, truly the greatest of all, but it had been
+one which affected men's minds and not their bodies. That is speaking of
+the world at large.
+
+As has already been pointed out, only _religious_ people--a vast host,
+but small beside the mass of Englishmen--were disturbed seriously by
+what had happened. The price of bread remained the same; beef was no
+dearer.
+
+During these first weeks Schuabe had been all-powerful. He and his
+friends had lived in a constant and stupendous triumph.
+
+But now--and in his frightful egoism he frowned at the thick black
+head-lines in the newspapers--the whole attitude of every one was
+changed. There was a reflex action, and in the noise it made Schuabe was
+forgotten.
+
+Men had more to think of now. There was no time to congratulate the man
+who had been so splendidly right.
+
+_Consols were at 65!_
+
+Bread was rising each week. War was imminent. On all sides great
+mercantile houses were crashing. Each fall meant a thousand minor
+catastrophes all over the country.
+
+The antichristians had no time to jeer at the Faithful; they must work
+and strain to save their own fortunes from the wreck.
+
+The mob, who were swiftly bereft of the luxuries which kept them in
+good-humour, were turning on the antichristian party now. In their
+blind, selfish unreason they cried them down, saying that they were
+responsible for the misery and terror that lay over the world.
+
+With an absolute lack of logic, the churches were crowded again. The
+most irreligious cried for the good old times. Those who had most
+coarsely exulted over the broken Cross now bewailed it as the most awful
+of calamities.
+
+Christianity was daily being terribly avenged through the pockets and
+stomachs of the crowd!
+
+It was bizarre beyond thinking, sordid in its immensity, vulgar in its
+mighty soulless greed, but TRUE, REAL, a FEARFUL FACT.
+
+A stupendous _confusion_.
+
+Two great currents had met in a maelstrom. The din of the disturbance
+beat upon the world's ear with sickening clamour.
+
+Louder and louder, day by day.
+
+And the man who had done all this, the brain which had called up these
+legions from hell, which had loosed these fiery sorrows on mankind, was
+in a rich room in a luxurious hotel, alone there. Again the shock and
+marvel took hold of the man and shook him like a reed.
+
+There was a round table, covered with a gleaming white cloth, by the
+fire. The kidneys in the silver dish were cold, the grease had
+congealed. The silent servants had brought up a breakfast to him. He had
+watched their clever, automatic movements. Did they know _whom_ they
+were attending on, what would happen--?
+
+His thoughts flashed hither and thither, now surveying a world in
+torture, now weaving a trivial and whimsical romance about a waiter. The
+frightful activity of his brain, inflamed by thoughts beyond the power
+of even that wonderful machine, began to have a consuming physical
+effect.
+
+He felt the grey matter bubbling. Agonising pains shot from temple to
+temple, little knives seemed hacking at the back of his eyes. Once
+again, in a wave of unutterable terror, the fear of madness submerged
+him.
+
+On this second occasion he was unable to recall his composure by any
+effort which came from within himself. He stumbled into his adjoining
+dressing-room and selected a bottle from a shelf. It was bromide of
+potassium, which he had been taking of late to deaden the clamour and
+vibration of his nerves.
+
+In half an hour the drug had calmed him. His face was very pale, but set
+and rigid. The storm was over. He felt shattered by its violence, but in
+an artificial peace.
+
+He took a cigarette.
+
+As he was lighting it his valet entered and announced that Mr. Dawlish,
+his man of business, was waiting in an anteroom.
+
+He ordered that he should be shown in.
+
+Mr. Dawlish was the junior partner of the well-known firm of city
+solicitors, Burrington & Tuite. That was his official description. In
+effect he was Schuabe's principal man of business. All his time was
+taken up by the millionaire's affairs all over England.
+
+He came in quickly--a tall, well-dressed man, hair thin on the forehead,
+moustache carefully trained.
+
+"You look very unwell, Mr. Schuabe," he said, with a keen glance. "Don't
+let these affairs overwhelm you. Nothing is so dangerous as to let the
+nerves go in times like these."
+
+Schuabe started.
+
+"How are things, Dawlish?" he said.
+
+"Very shaky, very shaky, indeed. The shares of the Budapest Railway are
+to be bought for a shilling. I am afraid your investments in that
+concern are utterly lost. When the Bourses closed last night dealings in
+Foreign Government Stock were at a stand-still. Turkish C and O bonds
+are worthless."
+
+Again the millionaire started. "You bring me a record of disaster," he
+said.
+
+"Baumann went yesterday," continued the level voice.
+
+"My cousin," said Schuabe.
+
+"The worst of it is that the situation is getting worse and worse. We
+have, as you know, made enormous efforts. But all attempts you have made
+to uphold your securities have only been throwing money away. The last
+fortnight has been frightful. More than two hundred thousand pounds have
+gone. In fact, an ordinary man would be ruined by the last month or two.
+Your position is better because of the real property in the Manchester
+mills."
+
+"Trade has almost ceased."
+
+"Close the mills down and wait. You cannot go on."
+
+"If I do, ten thousand men will be let loose on the city with nothing
+but the Union funds to fall back on."
+
+"If you don't, you will be what Baumann is to-day--a bankrupt."
+
+"I have eighty thousand cash on deposit at the Bank of England."
+
+"And if you throw that away after the rest you will be done for. You
+don't realise the situation. It _can't_ recover. War is inevitable.
+India will go, I feel it. England is going to turn into a camp. Religion
+is the pretext of war everywhere. Take your money from the Bank in cash
+and lock it up in the Safe Deposit strong rooms. Keep that sum, earning
+nothing, for emergencies, then wait for the other properties to recover.
+It will be years perhaps, but you will win through in the end. The
+freehold sites of the mills are alone worth almost anything. It is only
+_paper_ millionaires that are easily ruined. You are a great property
+owner. But you must walk very warily, even you. Who could have foreseen
+all this? I see that fellow Hands is dead--couldn't stand the sight of
+the mischief he'd done, I suppose. The fool! the eternal fool! why
+couldn't he have kept his sham discovery to himself? Look at the
+unutterable misery it has brought on the world."
+
+"You yourself, Dawlish, are you suffering the common fate?"
+
+"I? Certainly not! That is to say, I suffer of course, but not fatally.
+All my investments are in buildings in safe quarters. I may have to
+reduce rents for a year or two, but my houses will not be empty. And
+they are my own."
+
+"Fortunate man," said Schuabe; "but why _sham_ discovery?"
+
+"Out of business hours," said the solicitor, with some stiffness and
+hesitation, "I am a Roman Catholic, Mr. Schuabe. Good-morning. I will
+send the transfer round for you to sign."
+
+The cool, machine-like man went away. The millionaire knew that his
+fortune was tottering, but it moved him little. He knew that his power
+in the country was nearly over, had dwindled to nothing in the stir of
+greater things around. Money was only useful as a means of power, and
+with a sure prescience he saw that he would never regain his old
+position.
+
+The hour was over.
+
+Whatever would be the outcome of these great affairs, the hour was past
+and over.
+
+The one glowing thought which burned within him, and seemed to be eating
+out his life, was the awful knowledge that he and no other man had set
+in motion this terrible machinery which was grinding up the civilised
+world.
+
+Day and night from that there was no relief.
+
+His valet again entered and reminded his master that some people were
+coming to lunch. He went away and began to dress with the man's help.
+
+The guests were only two in number. One was Ommaney, the editor of the
+_Daily Wire_, the other Mrs. Hubert Armstrong.
+
+Both the lady and gentleman came in together at about two o'clock.
+
+Mrs. Armstrong was much changed in appearance. Her face had lost its
+serenity; her manner was quick and anxious; her voice strained.
+
+The slim, quiet editor, on the other hand, seemed to be untouched by
+worry. Quiet and inscrutable as ever, the only change in him, perhaps,
+was a slight briskness, an aroma rather than an actual expression of
+good humour and _bien-être_.
+
+They sat down to the meal. Schuabe, in his dark grey frock-coat, the
+careful _ensemble_ of his dress no less than the regular beauty of his
+face--now smooth and calm--seemed to be beyond all mundane cares. Only
+the lady was ill at ease.
+
+The conversation at first was all of the actual news of the day, as it
+had appeared in the morning's newspapers. Hands's death was discussed.
+"Poor fellow!" said Mrs. Armstrong, with a sigh; "it is sad to think of
+his sudden ending. The burden was too much for him to bear. I can
+understand it when I look round upon all that is happening; it is
+terrible!"
+
+"Surely you do not regret the discovery of the truth?" said Schuabe,
+quickly.
+
+"I am beginning to fear truth," said the lady. "The world, it seems, was
+not ripe for it. In a hundred years, perhaps, our work would have paved
+the way. But it is premature. Look at the chaos all around us. The
+public has ceased to think or read. They are reading nothing. Three
+publishers have put up the shutters during the week."
+
+The journalist interrupted with a dry chuckle. "They are reading the
+_Daily Wire_," he said; "the circulation is almost doubled." He sent a
+congratulatory glance to Schuabe.
+
+The millionaire's great holding in the paper was a secret known only to
+a few. In the stress of greater affairs he had half forgotten it. A
+swift feeling of relief crossed his brain as he realised what this meant
+to his tottering fortunes.
+
+"Poor Hands!" said the editor, "he was a nice fellow. Rather unpractical
+and dreamy, but a nice fellow. Owing to him we had the greatest chance
+that any paper has ever had in the history of journalism. We owe him a
+great debt. The present popularity and influence of the paper has
+dwarfed, positively dwarfed, all its rivals. I have given the poor
+fellow three columns to-day; I wish I could do more."
+
+"Do you not think, Mr. Ommaney," asked Mrs. Armstrong, "that in the
+enormous publication of telegrams and political foreign news, the
+glorious fact that the world has at last awakened to a knowledge of the
+glorious truths of real religion is being swamped and forgotten? After
+all, what will be the greatest thing in history a hundred years from
+now? Will it not be the death of the old superstitions rather than a
+mutiny in the East or a war with Russia? Will not the names of the
+pioneers of truth remain more firmly fixed in the minds of mankind than
+those of generals and chancellors?"
+
+The editor made it quite plain that these were speculations with which
+he had nothing whatever to do.
+
+"It's dead, Mrs. Armstrong," he said brutally. "The religious aspect is
+utterly dead, and wouldn't sell an extra copy of the paper. It would be
+madness to touch it now. The public gaze is fixed on Kabul River and
+St. Petersburg, Belgrade and Constantinople. They have almost forgotten
+that Jerusalem exists. I sent out twelve special correspondents ten days
+ago."
+
+Mrs. Armstrong sighed deeply. It was true, bitterly true. She was no
+longer of any importance in the public eye. No one asked her to lecture
+now. The mass meetings were all over. Not a single copy of _John
+Mulgrave_ had been sold for a month. How differently she had pictured it
+all on that winter's morning at Sir Michael's; how brightly and
+gloriously it had begun, and now how bitter the _dénouement_, how
+utterly beyond foresight? What was this superstition, this Christianity
+which in its death struggles could overthrow a world?
+
+"_The decisive events of the world occur in the intellect._" Yes, but
+how soon do they leave their parent and outstrip its poor control?
+
+There was no need for women _now_. That was the bitterest thought of
+all. The movement was over--done with. A private in the Guards was a
+greater hero than the leader of an intellectual movement. What a
+monstrous _bouleversement_ of everything!
+
+Again the lady sighed deeply.
+
+"No," she said again, "the world was not yet strong enough to bear the
+truth. I have sold my Consols," she continued; "I have been advised to
+do so. I was investing for my daughter when I am gone. Newspaper shares
+are the things to buy now, I suppose! My brokers told me that I was
+doing the wisest thing. They said that they could not recover for
+years."
+
+"The money market is a thing in which I have very little concern except
+inasmuch as it affects large public issues," said the editor. "I leave
+it all to my city editor and his staff--men in whom I have the greatest
+possible trust. But I heard a curious piece of news last night. I don't
+know what it portends; perhaps Mr. Schuabe can tell me; he knows all
+about these things. Sir Michael Manichoe, the head of the Church
+political party, you know has been buying Consols enormously. Keith, my
+city editor, told me. He has, so it appears, invested enormous sums.
+Consols will go up in consequence. But even then I don't see how he can
+repay himself. They cannot rise much."
+
+"I wonder if I was well advised to sell?" said Mrs. Armstrong,
+nervously. "They say Sir Michael never makes a mistake. He must have
+some private information."
+
+"I don't think that is possible, Mrs. Armstrong," Ommaney said. "Of
+course Sir Michael may very likely know something about the situation
+which is not yet public. He may be reckoning on it. But things are in
+such hopeless confusion that no sane speculator would buy for a small
+rise which endured for half a day. He would not be able to unload
+quickly enough. It seems as if Sir Michael is buying for a permanent
+recovery. And I assure you that nothing can bring _that_ about. Only one
+thing at least."
+
+"What is that?" asked both Mrs. Armstrong and Schuabe together.
+
+The editor paused, while a faint smile flickered over his face. "Ah," he
+said, "an impossibility, of course. If any one discovered that 'The
+Discovery' was a fraud--a great forgery, for instance--_then_ we should
+see a universal relief."
+
+"_That_, of course, is asking for an impossibility," said Mrs.
+Armstrong, rather shortly. She resented the somewhat flippant tone of
+the great man.
+
+These things were all her life. To Ommaney they but represented a
+passing panorama in which he took absolutely no _personal_ interest. The
+novelist disliked and feared this detachment. It warred with her strong
+sense of mental duty. The highly trained journalist, to whom all life
+was but news, news, news, was a strange modern product which warred with
+her sense of what was fitting.
+
+"You're not well!" said the editor, suddenly turning to Schuabe, who had
+grown very pale. His voice reassured them.
+
+It was without a trace of weakness.
+
+The "Perfectly, thank you" was deliberate and calm as ever. Ommaney,
+however, noticed that, with a very steady hand, the host poured out
+nearly a tumbler of Burgundy and drank it in one draught.
+
+Schuabe had been taking nothing stronger than water hitherto during the
+progress of the meal.
+
+The man who had been waiting had just left the room for coffee. After
+Ommaney had spoken, there was a slight, almost embarrassed, silence. A
+sudden interruption came from the door of the room.
+
+It opened with a quick push and turn of the handle, quite unlike the
+deliberate movements of any one of the attendants.
+
+Sir Robert Llwellyn strode into the room. It was obvious that he was
+labouring under some almost uncontrollable agitation. The great face,
+usually so jolly and fresh-coloured, was ghastly pale. There was a fixed
+stare of fright in the eyes. He had forgotten to remove his silk hat,
+which was grotesquely tilted on his head, showing the hair matted with
+perspiration.
+
+Ommaney and Mrs. Armstrong sat perfectly still.
+
+They were paralysed with wonder at the sudden apparition of this famous
+person, obviously in such urgent hurry and distress.
+
+Then, with the natural instinct of well-bred people, their heads turned
+away, their eyes fell to their plates, and they began to converse in an
+undertone upon trivial matters.
+
+Schuabe had risen with a quick, snake-like movement, utterly unlike his
+general deliberation. In a moment he had crossed the room and taken
+Llwellyn's arm in a firm grip, looking him steadily in the face with an
+ominous and warning frown.
+
+That clear, sword-like glance seemed to nerve the big man into more
+restraint. A wave of artificial composure passed over him. He removed
+his hat and breathed deeply.
+
+Then he spoke in a voice which trembled somewhat, but which nevertheless
+attained something of control.
+
+"I am really very sorry," he said, with a ghastly attempt at a smile,
+"to have burst in upon you like this. I didn't know you had friends with
+you. Please excuse me. But the truth is--the truth is, that I am in
+rather a hurry to see you. I have an important message for you from--"
+he hesitated a single moment before he found the ready lie--"from Lord
+----. There are--there is something going on at the House of Commons
+which--But I will tell you later on. How do you do, Mrs. Armstrong? How
+are you, Ommaney? Fearfully rushed, of course! We archæologists are the
+only people who have leisure nowadays. No, thanks, Schuabe, I lunched
+before I came. Coffee? Oh, yes; excellent!"
+
+His manner was noticeably forced and unnatural in its artificial
+geniality. The man, who had now entered with coffee, brought the tray to
+him, but instead of taking any he half filled an empty cup with Kümmel
+and drank it off.
+
+His hurried explanation hardly deceived the two shrewd people at the
+table, but at least it made it obvious that he wished to be alone with
+their host.
+
+There was a little desultory conversation over the coffee, in which
+Llwellyn took a too easy and hilarious part, and then Mrs. Armstrong got
+up to go.
+
+Ommaney followed her.
+
+Schuabe walked with them a little way down the corridor. While he was
+out of the room, Llwellyn walked unsteadily to a sideboard. With shaking
+hand he mixed himself a large brandy-and-soda. His shaking hands, the
+intense greed with which he swallowed the mixture, were horrible in
+their sensual revelation. The mask of pleasantness had gone; the reserve
+of good manners disappeared.
+
+He stood there naked, as it were--a vast bulk of a man in deadly fear.
+
+Schuabe came back and closed the door silently. He drew Llwellyn to the
+old spot, right in the centre of the great room. There was a wild
+question in his eyes which his lips seemed powerless to utter.
+
+"Gertrude!" gasped the big man. "You know she came back to me. I told
+you at the club that it was all right between us again?"
+
+An immeasurable relief crossed the Jew's face. He pushed his friend away
+with a snarl of concentrated disgust.
+
+"You come here," he hissed venomously, "and burst into my rooms to tell
+me of your petty _amours_. Have I not borne with the story of your lust
+and degradation enough? You come here as if the--." He stopped suddenly.
+The words died away on his lips.
+
+Llwellyn was transformed.
+
+Even in his terror and agitation an ugly sneer blazed out upon his face.
+His nostrils curled with evil laughter. His voice became low and
+threatening. Something subtly _vulgar_ and _common_ stole into it. It
+was this last that arrested Schuabe. It was horrible.
+
+"Not quite so fast, my good friend," said Llwellyn. "Wait and hear my
+story; and, confound you! if you talk to me like that again, I'll kill
+you! Things are equal now, my Jewish partner--equal between us. If I am
+in danger, why, so are you; and either you speak civilly or you pay the
+penalty."
+
+A curious thing happened. The enormous overbearing brutality of the man,
+his _vitality_, seemed to cow and beat down the master mind.
+
+Schuabe, for the moment, was weak in the hands of his inferior. As yet
+he had heard nothing of what the other had come to tell; he was
+conscious only of hands of cold fear knocking at his heart.
+
+He seemed to shrink into himself. For the first and last time in his
+life, the inherited slavishness in his blood asserted itself.
+
+He had never known such degradation before. The beauty of his face went
+out like an extinguished candle. His features grew markedly Semitic; he
+cringed and fawned, as his ancestors had cringed and fawned before fools
+in power hundreds of years back.
+
+This inexpressibly disgusting change in the distinguished man had its
+immediate effect upon his companion. It was new and utterly startling.
+He had come to lean on Schuabe, to place the threads of a dreadful
+dilemma in his hand, to rest upon his master mind.
+
+So, for a second or two, in loathsome pantomime the men bowed and
+salaamed to each other in the centre of the room, not knowing what they
+did.
+
+It was Sir Robert who pulled himself together first. The fear which was
+rushing over him in waves gave him back a semblance of control.
+
+"We must not quarrel now," he said in a swift, eager voice. "Listen to
+me. We are on the brink of terrible things. Gertrude Hunt came back to
+me, as you know. She told me that she was sick to death of her friends
+the priests, that the old life called her, that she could not live
+apart from me. She mocked at her sudden conversion. I thought that it
+was real. I laughed and mocked with her. I trusted her as I would trust
+myself."
+
+He paused for a moment, choking down the immense agitation which rose up
+in his throat and half strangled speech.
+
+Schuabe's eyes, attentive and fixed, were still uncomprehending. Still
+the Jew did not see whither Llwellyn was leading--could not understand.
+
+"She's gone!" said the big man, all colour fading absolutely from his
+face. "And, Schuabe, in my mad folly and infatuation, in my incredible
+foolishness ... _I told her everything_."
+
+A sudden sharp animal moan burst from Schuabe's lips--clear, vibrant,
+and bestial in the silence.
+
+His rigidity changed into an extraordinary trembling. It was a temporary
+palsy which set every separate limb trembling with an independent
+motion. He waited thus, with an ashen face, to hear more.
+
+Llwellyn, when the irremediable fact had passed his lips, when the
+enormous difficulty of confession was surmounted, proceeded with slight
+relief:
+
+"This might, you will think, be just possibly without significance for
+us. It might be a coincidence. _But it is not so, Schuabe._ I know now,
+as certainly as I can know anything, that she came to me, was sent to
+me, by the people who have got hold of her. _There has been suspicion
+for some time_, there must have been. We have been ruined by this woman
+I trusted."
+
+"But why ... how?"
+
+"Because, Schuabe, as I was walking down Chancery Lane not an hour since
+I saw Gertrude come out of Lincoln's Inn with the clergyman Gortre. They
+got into a cab together and drove away. And more: I learn from Lambert,
+my assistant at the Museum, that Harold Spence, the journalist, who is a
+member of his club and a friend of his, _left for Palestine several
+days ago_."
+
+"I have just heard," whispered Schuabe, "that Sir Michael Manichoe has
+been buying large parcels of Consols."
+
+"The thing is over. We must----"
+
+"Hush!" said the Jew, menacingly. "All is not lost yet. Perhaps, the
+strong probability is, that only this Gortre knows yet. Even if anything
+is known to others, it is only vague, and cannot be substantiated until
+the man in Palestine gets a letter. Without this woman and Gortre we are
+safe."
+
+The Professor looked at him and understood. Nor was there any terror in
+his face, only a faint film of relief.
+
+Five minutes afterwards the two distinguished men, talking easily
+together, walked through the vestibule of the hotel, down the great
+courtyard and into the roaring Strand.
+
+A hotel clerk explained the celebrities to a voluble group of American
+tourists as they went by.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+BY THE TOWER OF HIPPICUS
+
+
+Harold Spence was essentially a man of action. His mental and moral
+health depended for its continuance upon the active prosecution of
+affairs more than most men's.
+
+A product of the day, "modern" in his culture, modern in his ideals, he
+must live the vivid, eager, strenuous life of his times or the fibres of
+his brain became slack and loosened.
+
+In the absorbing interest of his first mission to the East Spence had
+found work which exactly suited his temperament. It was work which keyed
+him up to his best and most successful efforts.
+
+But when that was over, when the news that he had given brilliantly to
+the world became the world's and was no longer his, then the reaction
+set in.
+
+The whole man became relaxed and unstrung; he was drifting into a sloth
+of the mind and body when Gortre had arrived from the North with his
+message of Hope.
+
+The renewed opportunity of action, the tonic to his weak and waning
+faith--that faith which alone was able to keep him clean and
+worthy--again strung up the chords of his manhood till they vibrated in
+harmony.
+
+Once more Spence was in the Holy City.
+
+But a short time ago he was at Jerusalem as the collective eye of
+millions of Englishmen, the telegraph wires stretched out behind him to
+London.
+
+Now he was, to all official intents, a private person, yet, as the
+steamer cast anchor in the roadstead of Jaffa, he had realised that a
+more tremendous responsibility than ever before rested with him.
+
+The last words spoken to Spence in England had been those of Sir Michael
+Manichoe. The great man was bidding him good-bye at Charing Cross.
+
+"Remember," he had said, "that whatever proof or help we may get from
+this woman, Gertrude Hunt, will be but the basis for you to work on in
+the East. We shall cable every result of our investigations here.
+Remember that, as we think, you have immense ability and resource
+against you. Go very warily. As I have said before, _no_ sum is too
+great to sacrifice, no sacrifice too great to make."
+
+There had been a day's delay at Jaffa. It had been a day of strange,
+bewildering thoughts to the journalist.
+
+The "Gate of the Holy Land" is not, as many people suppose, a fine
+harbour, a thronged port.
+
+The navies of the ancient world which congregated there were smaller
+than even the coasting steamers of to-day. They found shelter in a
+narrow space of more or less untroubled water between the shelving rock
+of the long, flat shore and a low reef rising out of the sea parallel to
+the town. The vessels with timber for Solomon's Temple tossed almost
+unsheltered before the terraces of ochre-coloured Oriental houses.
+
+For several hours it had been too rough for the passengers on the French
+boat to land. More than a mile of restless bottle-green sea separated
+them from the rude ladders fastened to the wave-washed quay.
+
+There had been one of the heavy rain-storms which at that season of the
+year visit Palestine. Over the Moslem minarets of the town the purple
+tops of the central mountains of Judah and Ephraim showed clear and far
+away.
+
+The time of waiting gave Spence an opportunity for collecting and
+ordering his thoughts, for summing up the situation and trying to get at
+the very heart of its meaning.
+
+The messagery steamer was the only one in the roads. Two coasting craft
+with rags of light brown sails were beating over the swell into the
+Mediterranean.
+
+The sky was cloudy, the air still and warm. Only the sea was turbulent
+and uneasy, the steamer rolled with a sickening, regular movement, and
+the anchor chains beat and rattled with the precision of a pendulum.
+
+Spence sat on the india-rubber treads of the steps leading up to the
+bridge, with an arm crooked round a white-painted stanchion supporting
+the hand-rail. A few yards away two lascars were working a chain and
+pulley, drawing up zinc boxes of ashes from the stoke-hold and tipping
+them into the sea. As the clinkers fell into the water a little cloud of
+steam rose from them.
+
+There were but few passengers on the ship, which wore a somewhat
+neglected, "off-duty" aspect. No longer were the cabins filled with
+drilled bands of tourists with their loud-voiced lecturing cleric in
+charge. Not now was there the accustomed rush to the main deck, the
+pious ejaculations at the first sight of Palestine, the electric
+knocking at the hearts even of the least devout.
+
+Nobody came to Jerusalem now from England. From Beyrout to Jaffa the
+maritime plain was silent and deserted, and no tourists plucked the
+roses of Sharon any more.
+
+A German commercial traveller, with cases of cutlery, from Essen, was
+arguing with the little Greek steward about his wine bill; a
+professional photographer from Alexandria, travelling with his cameras
+for a New York firm of art publishers; two Turkish officers smoking
+cigarettes; a Russian gentleman with two young sons; a fat man in
+flannels and with an unshaven chin, very much at home; an orange buyer
+from a warehouse by the Tower Bridge--these were the undistinguished
+companions of the journalist.
+
+The steward clapped his hands; _déjeuner_ was ready. The passengers
+tumbled down to the saloon. Spence declined the loud-voiced Cockney
+invitation of the fruit merchant and remained where he was, gazing with
+unseeing eyes at the low Eastern town, which rose and fell before him as
+the ship rolled lazily from side to side.
+
+There was something immensely, tremendously incongruous in his position.
+It was without precedent. He had come, in the first place, as a sort of
+private inquiry agent. He was a detective charged by a group of three or
+four people, a clergyman or two, a wealthy Member of Parliament, to find
+out the year-old movements--if, indeed, movements there had been!--of a
+distinguished European professor. He was to pry, to question, to
+deceive. This much in itself was utterly astonishing, strangely
+difficult of realisation.
+
+But how much more there was to stir and confuse his brain!
+
+He was coming back alone to Jerusalem. But a short time ago he had seen
+the great _savants_ of Europe--only thirty miles beyond this Eastern
+town--reluctantly pronounce the words which meant the downfall of the
+Christian Faith.
+
+The gunboat which had brought them all was anchored in this very spot. A
+Turkish guard had been waiting yonder on the quay, they had gone along
+the new road to Jerusalem in open carriages,--through the orange
+groves,--riding to make history.
+
+And now he was here once more.
+
+While he sat on this dingy steamer in this remote corner of the
+Mediterranean, it was no exaggeration to say that the whole world was in
+a state of cataclysm such as it had hardly, at least not often, known
+before.
+
+It was his business to watch events, to forecast whither they would
+lead. He was a Simon Magus of the modern world, with an electric wire
+and stylographic pen to prophesy with. He of all men could see and
+realise what was happening all over the globe. He was more alarmed than
+even the man in the street. This much was certain.
+
+And a day's easy ride away lay the little town which held the acre of
+rocky ground from which all these horrors, this imminent upheaval, had
+come.
+
+Again it seemed beyond the power of his brain to seize it all, to
+contain the vastness of his thoughts.
+
+These facts, which all the world knew, were almost too stupendous for
+belief. But when he dwelt upon the _personal_ aspect of them he was as a
+traveller whose way is irrevocably barred by sheer precipice.
+
+At the very first _he_ had been one mouthpiece of the news. For some
+hours the packet containing it had hung in the dressing-room of a London
+Turkish bath.
+
+His act had recoiled upon himself, for when Gortre found him in the
+chambers he was spiritually dying.
+
+Could this suspicion of Schuabe and Llwellyn possibly be true? It had
+seemed both plausible and probable in Sir Michael's study in London. But
+out here in the Jaffa roadstead, when he realised--or tried to
+realise--that on him might depend the salvation of the world.... He
+laughed aloud at that monstrous grandiloquent phrase. He was in the
+nineteenth century, not the tenth.
+
+He doubted more and more. Had it been any one else it might have been
+possible to believe. But he could not see himself in this stupendous
+_rôle_.
+
+The mental processes became insupportable; he dismissed thought with a
+great effort of will and got up from his seat.
+
+At least there was some _action_, something definite to do waiting for
+him. Speculation only blurred everything. He would be true to the trust
+his friends in England reposed in him and leave the rest to happen as it
+was fated.
+
+There was a relief in that attitude--the Arab attitude. _Kismet!_
+
+Griggs, the fruit merchant, came up from the saloon wiping his lips.
+
+"Bit orf," he said, "waiting like this. But the sea will go down soon.
+Last spring I had to go on to Beyrout, the weather was that rough. Ever
+tried that Vin de Rishon le Zion? It's a treat. Made from Bordeaux vines
+transplanted to Palestine--you'll pass the fields on the way up--just
+had a half bottle. Hallo!--look, there's the boat at last--old Francis
+Karane's boat. Must go and look after my traps."
+
+A long boat was creeping out from behind the reef. Spence went to his
+cabin to see after his light kit. It was better to move and work than to
+think.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was early morning, the morning after Spence's arrival in Jerusalem.
+He slept well and soundly in his hotel room, tired by the long ride--for
+he had come on horseback over the moonlit slopes of Ajalon.
+
+When at length he awoke it was with a sensation of mental and bodily
+vigour, a quickening of all his pulses in hope and expectation, which
+was in fine contrast to the doubts and hesitations of the Jaffa roads.
+
+A bright sun poured into the room.
+
+He got up and went to the window. There was a deep, unspoken prayer in
+his heart.
+
+The hotel was in Akra, the European and Christian quarter of Jerusalem,
+close by the Jaffa Gate, with the Tower of Hippicus frowning down upon
+it.
+
+The whole extent of the city lay beneath the windows in a glorious
+panorama, washed as it was in the brilliant morning light. Far beyond, a
+dark shadow yet, the Olivet range rose in background to the minarets and
+cupolas below it.
+
+His eye roved over the prospect, marking and recognising the buildings.
+
+There was the purple dome of the great Mosque of Omar, very clear
+against the amber-primrose lights of dawn.
+
+Where now the muezzin called to Allah, the burnt-offerings had once
+smoked in the courts of the Temple--it was in that spot the mysterious
+veil had parted in symbol of God's pain and death. It was in the porches
+bounding the court of the Gentiles that Christ had taught.
+
+Closer, below the Antonia Tower, rose the dark, lead-covered cupola of
+the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
+
+Great emotion came to him as he gazed at the shrine sacred above all
+others for so many centuries.
+
+He thought of that holy spot diminished in its ancient glory in the eyes
+of half the Christian world.
+
+Perhaps no more would the Holy Fire burst forth from the yellow, aged
+marble of the Tomb at Easter time.
+
+Who could say?
+
+Was not he, Harold Spence, there to try that awful issue?
+
+He wondered, as he gazed, if another Easter would still see the wild
+messengers bursting away to Nazareth and Bethlehem bearing The Holy
+Flame.
+
+The sun became suddenly more powerful. It threw a warmer light into the
+grey dome, and, deep down, the cold, dark waters of Hezekiah's Pool
+became bright and golden.
+
+The sacred places focussed the light and sprang into a new life.
+
+He made the sign of the Cross, wondering fancifully if this were an
+omen.
+
+Then with a shudder he looked to the left towards the ogre-grey Turkish
+battlements of the Damascus Gate.
+
+It was there, over by the Temple Quarries of Bezetha, the New Tomb of
+Joseph lay.
+
+Yes! straight away to the north lay the rock-hewn sepulchre where the
+great doctors had sorrowfully pronounced the end of so many Christian
+hopes.
+
+How difficult to believe that so short a distance away lay the centre of
+the world's trouble! Surely he could actually distinguish the
+guard-house in the wall which had been built round the spot.
+
+Over the sad Oriental city--for Jerusalem is always sad, as if the
+ancient stones were still conscious of Christ's passion--he gazed
+towards the terrible place, wondering, hoping, fearing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was very difficult to know how to begin upon this extraordinary
+affair.
+
+When he had made the first meal of the day and was confronted with the
+business, with the actual fact of what he had to do, he was aghast at
+what seemed his own powerlessness.
+
+He had no plan of action, no method. For an hour he felt absolutely
+hopeless.
+
+Sir Robert Llwellyn, so his friends believed, had been in Jerusalem
+prior to the discovery of the New Tomb.
+
+The first duty of the investigator was to find out whether that was
+true.
+
+How was he to do it?
+
+In his irresolution he decided to go out into the city. He would call
+upon various people he knew, friends of Cyril Hands, and trust to events
+for guiding his further movements.
+
+The rooms where Hands had always stayed were close to the schools of the
+Church Missionary Society; he would go there. Down in the Mûristan area
+he could also chat with the doctor at the English Ophthalmic Hospice; he
+would call on his way to the New Tomb.
+
+It was at The Tomb that he might learn something, perhaps, yet how
+nebulous it all was, how unsatisfying!
+
+He set out, down the roughly paved streets, through the arched and
+shaded bazaars--places less full of colour and more sombre than the
+markets of other Oriental cities--to the heart of the city, where the
+streets were bounded by the vision of the distant hills of Olivet.
+
+The religious riots and unrest were long since over. The pilgrims to the
+Church of the Holy Sepulchre were less in number, but were mostly
+Russians of the Greek Church, who still accepted the Church of the Holy
+Sepulchre as the true goal of their desires.
+
+The Greeks and Armenians hated each other no more than usual. The Turks
+were held in good control by a strong governor of Jerusalem. Nor was
+this a time of special festival. The city, never quite at rest, was
+still in its normal condition.
+
+The Bedouin women with their unveiled faces, tattooed in blue, strode to
+the bazaars with the butter they had brought in from their desert herds.
+They wore gaudy head-dresses and high red boots, and they jostled the
+"pale townsmen" as they passed them; free, untamed creatures of the sun
+and air.
+
+As Spence passed by the courtyard of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre a
+crowd of Fellah boys ran up to him with candles ornamented with scenes
+from the Passion, pressing him to buy.
+
+The sun grew hotter as he walked, though the purple shadows of the
+narrow streets were cool enough. As he left the European heights of Akra
+and dived deep into the eastern central city, the well-remembered scenes
+and smells rose up like a wall before him and the rest of life.
+
+He began to walk more slowly, in harmony with the slow-moving forms
+around. He had been to Omdurman with the avenging army, knew
+Constantinople during the Greek war--the East had meaning for him.
+
+And as the veritable East closed round him his doubts and self-ridicule
+vanished. His strange mission seemed possible here.
+
+As he was passing one of the vast ruined structures once belonging to
+the mediæval knights of St. John, thinking, indeed, that he himself was
+a veritable Crusader, a thin, importunate voice came to him from an
+angle of the stone-work.
+
+He looked down and saw an old Nurié woman sitting there. She belonged to
+the "Nowar," the unclean pariah class of Palestine, who are said to
+practise magic arts. A gipsy of the Sussex Downs would be her sister in
+England.
+
+The woman was tattooed from head to foot. She wore a blue turban, and
+from squares and angles drawn in the dust before her, Spence knew her
+for a professional geomancer or fortune-teller.
+
+He threw her a coin in idle speculation and asked her "his lot" for the
+immediate future.
+
+The woman had a few shells of different shapes in a heap by her side,
+and she threw them into the figures on the ground.
+
+Then, picking them up, she said, in bastard Arabic interspersed with a
+hard "K"-like sound, which marks the nomad in Palestine, "Effendi, you
+have a sorrow and bewilderment just past you, and, like a black star, it
+has fixed itself on your forehead. A letter is coming to you from over
+the seas telling you of work to do. And then you will leave this country
+and cross home in a steamer, with a story to tell many people."
+
+Spence smiled at the glib prophecy. Certainly it might very well outline
+his future course of action, but it was no more than a shrewd and
+obvious guess.
+
+He was turning to go away when the woman opened her clothes in front,
+showing the upper part of her body literally covered with tattoo marks,
+and drew out a small bag.
+
+"Stay, my lord," she said. "I can tell you much more if you will hear. I
+have here a very precious stone rubbed with oil, which I brought from
+Mecca. Now, if you will hold this stone in your hand and give me the
+price you shall hear what will come to you, O camel of the house!"
+
+The curious sensation of "expectation" that had been coming over Spence,
+the fatalistic waiting for chance to guide him which, in this wild and
+dream-like business, had begun to take hold of him, made him give the
+hag what she asked.
+
+There was something in clairvoyance perhaps; at any rate he would hear
+what the Nurié woman had to say.
+
+She took a dark and greasy pebble from the bag and put it in his hand,
+gazing at his fingers for a minute or two in a fixed stare without
+speaking.
+
+When at last she broke the silence Spence noticed that something had
+gone out of her voice. The medicant whine, the ingratiating invitation
+had ceased.
+
+Her tones were impersonal, thinner, a _recitative_.
+
+"Ere sundown my lord will hear that a friend has died and his spirit is
+in the well of souls."
+
+"Tell me of this friend, O my aunt!" Spence said in colloquial Arabic.
+
+"Thy friend is a Frank, but more than a Frank, for he is one knowing
+much of this country, and has walked the stones of Jerusalem for many
+years. Thou wilt hear of his death from the lips of one who will tell
+thee of another thou seekest, and know not that it is he.... Give me
+back the stone, lord, and go thy way," she broke off suddenly, with
+seeming sincerity. "I will tell thee no more, for great business is in
+thy hands and thou art no ordinary wayfarer. Why didst thou hide it from
+me, Effendi?"
+
+Drawing her blue head-dress over her face, the woman refused to speak
+another word.
+
+Spence passed on, wondering. He knew, as all travellers who are not
+merely tourists know, that no one has ever been quite able to sift the
+fraud and trickery from the strange power possessed by those Eastern
+geomancers. It is an undecided question still, but only the shallow dare
+to say that _all_ is imposture.[2]
+
+And even the London journalist could not be purely materialistic in
+Jerusalem, the City of Sorrows.
+
+He went on towards his destination. Not far from the missionary
+establishment was a building which was the headquarters of the Palestine
+Exploring Society in Jerusalem.
+
+Cyril Hands had always lived up in Akra among the Europeans, but much of
+his time was necessarily spent in the Mûristan district.
+
+The building was known as the "Research Museum."
+
+Hands and his assistants had gathered a valuable collection of ancient
+curiosities.
+
+Here were hundreds of drawings and photographs of various excavations.
+Accurate measurements of tombs, buried houses, ancient churches were
+entered in great books.
+
+In glass cases were fragments of ancient pottery, old Hebrew seals,
+scarabs, antique fragments of jewellery--all the varied objects from
+which high scholarship and expert training was gradually, year by year,
+providing a luminous and entirely fresh commentary on Holy Writ.
+
+Here, in short, were the tools of what is known as the "Higher
+Criticism."
+
+Attached to the museum was a library and drawing office, a photographic
+dark room, apartments for the curator and his wife. A man who engaged
+the native labour required for the excavations superintended the work of
+the men and acted as general agent and intermediary between the European
+officials and all Easterns with whom they came in contact.
+
+This man was well known in the city--a character in his way. In the
+reports of the Exploring Society he was often referred to as an
+invaluable assistant. But a year ago his portrait had been published in
+the annual statement of the fund, and the face of the Greek Ionides in
+his turban lay upon the study tables of many a quiet English vicarage.
+
+Spence entered the courtyard of the building. It was quiet and deserted;
+some pigeons were feeding there.
+
+He turned under a stone archway to the right, pushed open a door, and
+entered the museum.
+
+There was a babel of voices.
+
+A small group of people stood by a wooden pedestal in the centre of the
+room, which supported the famous cruciform font found at Bîâr Es-seb'a.
+
+They turned at Spence's entrance. He saw some familiar faces of people
+with whom he had been brought in contact during the time of the first
+discovery.
+
+Two English missionaries, one in orders, the English Consul, and
+Professor Theodore Adams, the American archæologist, who lived all the
+year round in the new western suburb, stood speaking in grave tones and
+with distressed faces--so it seemed to the intruder.
+
+An Egyptian servant, dressed in white linen, carrying a bunch of keys,
+was with them.
+
+In his hand the Consul held a roll of yellow native wax.
+
+An enormous surprise shone out on the faces of these people as Spence
+walked up to him.
+
+"Mr. Spence!" said the Consul, "we never expected you or heard of your
+coming. This is most fortunate, however. You were his great friend. I
+think you both shared chambers together in London?"
+
+Spence looked at him in wonder, mechanically shaking the proffered hand.
+
+"I don't think I quite understand," he said. "I came here quite by
+chance, just to see if there was any one that I knew about."
+
+"Then you have not heard--" said the clergyman.
+
+"I have heard nothing."
+
+"Your friend, our distinguished fellow-worker, Professor Hands, is no
+more. We have just received a cable. Poor, dear Hands died of heart
+disease while taking a seaside holiday."
+
+Spence was genuinely affected.
+
+Hands was an old and dear friend. His sweet, kindly nature, too dreamy
+and retiring perhaps for the rush and hurry of Occidental life, had
+always been wonderfully welcome for a month or two each year in
+Lincoln's Inn. His quaint, learned letters, his enthusiasm for his work
+had become part of the journalist's life. They were recurring pleasures.
+And now he was gone!
+
+Now it was all over. Never more would he hear the quiet voice, hear the
+water-pipe bubble in the quiet old inn as night gave way to dawn....
+
+His brain whirled with the sudden shock. He grew very pale, waiting to
+hear more.
+
+"We know little more," said the Consul, with a sigh. "A cable from the
+central office of the Society has just stated the fact and asked me to
+take official charge of everything here. We were just about to begin
+sealing up the rooms when you came. There are many important documents
+which must be seen to. Mr. Forbes, poor Hands's assistant, is away on
+the shores of the Dead Sea, but we have sent for him by the camel
+garrison post. But it will be some weeks before he can be here,
+probably."
+
+"This is terribly sad news for me," said Spence at length. "We were, of
+course, the dearest friends. The months when Hands was in town were
+always the pleasantest. Of course, lately we did not see so much of each
+other; he had become a public character. He was becoming very depressed
+and unwell, terrified, I almost think, at what was going on in the world
+owing to the discovery he had made, and he was going away to
+recuperate. But I knew nothing of this!"
+
+"I am sorry," said the Consul, "to have to tell you of such a sad
+business, but we naturally thought that somehow you knew--though, of
+course, in point of time that would hardly be possible, or only just
+so."
+
+"I am in the East," said Spence, giving an explanation that he had
+previously prepared if it became necessary to account for his
+presence--"I am here on a mission for my newspaper--to ascertain various
+points about public opinion in view of all these imminent international
+complications."
+
+"Quite so, quite so," said the Consul. "I shall be glad to help you in
+any way I can, of course. But when you came in we were wondering what we
+should do exactly about poor Hands's private effects, papers, and so on.
+When he went on leave all his things were packed in cases and sent down
+here from his rooms in the upper city. I suppose they had better be
+shipped to England. Perhaps you would take charge of them on your
+return?"
+
+"I expect you will hear from his brother, the Rev. John Hands, a
+Leicestershire clergyman, when the mail comes in," said Spence. "This is
+a great blow to me. I should like to pay my poor friend some public
+tribute. I should like to write something for English people to read--a
+sketch of his life and work here in Jerusalem--his daily work among you
+all."
+
+His voice faltered. His eyes had fallen on a photograph which hung upon
+the wall. A group of Arabs sat at the mouth of a rock tomb. In front of
+them, wearing a sun helmet and holding a ten-foot surveyor's wand, stood
+the dead professor. A kindly smile was on his face as he looked down
+upon the white figures of his men.
+
+"It would be a gracious tribute," said one of the missionaries. "Every
+one loved him, whatever their race or creed. We can all tell you of him
+as we saw him in our midst. It is a great pity that old Ionides has
+gone. He was the confidential sharer of all the work here, and Hands
+trusted him implicitly. He could have told you much."
+
+"I remember Ionides well," said Spence. "At the time of the discovery,
+of course, he was very much in evidence, and he was examined by the
+committee. Is the old fellow dead, then?"
+
+"No," answered the missionary. "Some time ago, just after the Commission
+left, in fact, he came into a considerable sum of money. He was getting
+on in years, and he resigned his position here. He has taken an olive
+farm somewhere by Nabulûs, a Turkish city by Mount Gerizim. I fear we
+shall never see him more. He would grieve at this news."
+
+"I think," said Spence, "I will go back to my hotel. I should like to be
+alone to-day. I will call on you this evening, if I may," he added,
+turning to the Consul.
+
+He left the melancholy group, once more beginning their sad business,
+and went out again into the narrow street.
+
+He wanted to be alone, in some quiet place, to pay his departed friend
+the last rites of quiet thought and memory. He would say a prayer for
+him in the cool darkness of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
+
+How did it go?
+
+     "_So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this
+     mortal shall have put on immortality; Then shall be brought to pass
+     the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. O
+     death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?_"
+
+Always all his life long he had thought that these were perhaps the most
+beautiful of written words.
+
+He turned to the right, passed the Turkish guard at the entrance, and
+went down the narrow steps to the "Calvary" chapel.
+
+The gloom and glory of the great church, its rich and sombre light, the
+cool yet heavy air, saddened his soul. He knelt in humble prayer.
+
+When he came out once more into the brilliant sunlight and the noises of
+the city he felt braver and more confident.
+
+He began to turn his thoughts earnestly and resolutely to his mission.
+
+Swiftly, with a quick shock of memory, he remembered his talk with the
+old fortune-teller. It was with an unpleasant sense of chill and shock
+that he remembered her predictions.
+
+Some strange sense of divination had told her of this sad news that
+waited for him. He could not explain or understand it. But there was
+more than this. It might be wild and foolish, but he could not thrust
+the woman's words from his brain.
+
+She knew he was in quest of some one. She said he would be told....
+
+He entered the yellow stone portico of the hotel with a sigh of relief.
+The hall was large, flagged, and cool. A pool of clear water was in the
+centre, glimmering green over its tiles. The eye rested on it with
+pleasure. Spence sank into a deck-chair and clapped his hands. He was
+exhausted, tired, and thirsty.
+
+An Arab boy came in answer to his hand-clapping. He brought an envelope
+on a tray.
+
+It was a cable from England.
+
+Spence went up-stairs to his bedroom. From his kit-bag he drew a small
+volume, bound in thick leather, with a locked clasp.
+
+It was Sir Michael Manichoe's private cable code--a precious volume
+which great commercial houses all over the world would have paid great
+sums to see, which the great man in his anxiety and trust had confided
+to his emissary.
+
+Slowly and laboriously he de-coded the message, a collection of letters
+and figures to be momentous in the history of Christendom.
+
+These were the words:
+
+     "_The woman has discovered everything from Llwellyn. All suspicions
+     confirmed. Conspiracy between Llwellyn and Schuabe. You will find
+     full confirmation from the Greek foreman of Society explorations,
+     Ionides. Get statement of truth by any means, coercion or money to
+     any amount. All is legitimate. Having obtained, hasten home,
+     special steamer if quicker. Can do nothing certain without your
+     evidence. We trust in you. Hasten._
+
+          "MANICHOE."
+
+He trembled with excitement as he relocked the code.
+
+It was a light in a dark place. Ionides! the trusted for many years! The
+eager helper! The traitor bought by Llwellyn!
+
+It was afternoon now. He must go out again. A caravan, camels, guides,
+must be found for a start to-morrow.
+
+It would not be a very difficult journey, but it must be made with
+speed, and it was four days, five days away.
+
+He passed out of the hotel and by the Tower of Hippicus.
+
+A new drinking fountain had been erected there, a domed building, with
+pillars of red stone and a glittering roof, surmounted by a golden
+crescent.
+
+Some camel drivers were drinking there. He was passing by when a tall,
+white-robed figure bowed low before him. A voice, speaking French, bade
+him good-day.
+
+The face of the man seemed familiar. He asked him his name and business.
+
+It was Ibrahim, the Egyptian servant he had seen at the museum in the
+morning.
+
+The rooms had been sealed up, and the man had been to the Consul's
+private house with the keys.
+
+This man had temporarily succeeded the Greek Ionides.
+
+Spence turned back to the hotel and bade Ibrahim follow him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+UNDER THE EASTERN STARS: TOWARDS GERIZIM
+
+
+The night was cold and still, the starlight brilliant in the huge hollow
+sapphire of the sky.
+
+Wrapped in a heavy cloak, Spence sat at the door of one of the two
+little tents which composed his caravan.
+
+Ibrahim the Egyptian, a Roman Catholic, as it seemed, had volunteered to
+act as dragoman. In a few hours this man had got together the necessary
+animals and equipment for the expedition to Nabulûs.
+
+Spence rode a little grey horse of the wiry Moabite breed, Ibrahim a
+Damascus bay. The other men, a cook and two muleteers, all Syrians of
+the Greek Church, rode mules.
+
+The day's march had been long and tiring. Night, with its ineffable
+peace and rest, was very welcome.
+
+On the evening of the morrow they would be on the slopes of Ebal and
+Gerizim, near to the homestead of the man they sought.
+
+All the long day Spence had asked himself what would be the outcome of
+this wild journey. He was full of a grim determination to wring the
+truth from the renegade. In his hip pocket his revolver pressed against
+his thigh. He was strung up for action. Whatever course presented
+itself, that he would take, regardless of any law that there might be
+even in these far-away districts.
+
+His passport was specially endorsed by the Foreign Office; he bore a
+letter, obtained by the Consul, from the Governor of Jerusalem to the
+Turkish officer in command of Nabulûs.
+
+He had little doubt of the ultimate result. Money or force should obtain
+a full confession, and then, a swift rush for London with the charter of
+salvation--for it would be little less than that--and the engine of
+destruction for the two terrible criminals at home.
+
+As they marched over the plains the red anemone and blue iris had peeped
+from the herbage. The ibex, the roebuck, the wild boar, had fled from
+the advancing caravan.
+
+Eagles and vultures had moved heavily through the sky at vast heights.
+Quails, partridges, and plovers started from beneath the horses' feet.
+
+As the sun plunged away, the owls had begun to mourn in the olive
+groves, the restless chirping of the grasshoppers began to die away, and
+as the stars grew bright, the nightingale--the lonely song-bird of these
+solitudes--poured out his melody to the night.
+
+The camp had been formed under the shade of a clump of terebinth and
+acacias close to a spring of clear water which made the grass around it
+a vivid green, in pleasant contrast to the dry, withered herbage in the
+open.
+
+The men had dug out tree roots for fuel, and a red fire glowed a few
+yards away from Spence's tent.
+
+A group of silent figures sat round the fire. Now and then a low murmur
+of talk sounded for a minute and then died away again. A slight breeze,
+cool and keen, rustled in the trees overhead. Save for that, and the
+occasional movement of one of the hobbled horses, no sound broke the
+stillness of the glorious night.
+
+It was here, so Spence thought, that the Lord must have walked with His
+disciples on the journey between Jerusalem and Nazareth.
+
+On such a night as this the little group may have sat in the vale of El
+Makhna in quiet talk at supper-time.
+
+The same stars looked down on him as they did on those others two
+thousand years ago. How real and true it all seemed here! How much
+_easier_ it was to realise and believe than in Chancery Lane!
+
+Why did men live in cities?
+
+Was it not better far for the soul's health to be here alone with God?
+
+Here, and in such places as these, God spoke clear and loud to the
+hearts of men. He shuddered as the thought of his own lack of faith came
+back to him.
+
+In rapid review he saw the recent time of his hopelessness and shame.
+How utterly he had fallen to pieces! It was difficult to understand the
+pit into which he was falling so easily when Basil had come to him.
+
+Now, the love of God ran in his veins like fire, every sight and sound
+spoke to him of the Christus Consolator.
+
+It was more than mere cold belief, a _love_ or personal devotion to
+Christ welled up in him. The figure of the Man of Sorrows was very near
+him--there was a great fiery cross of stars in the sky above him.
+
+He entered the little tent to pray. He prayed humbly that it might be
+even thus until the end. He prayed that this new and sweet communion
+with his Master might never fade or lessen till the glorious daylight of
+Death dawned and this sojourning far from home was over.
+
+And, in the name of all the unknown millions whom he was come to this
+far land to aid, he prayed for success, for the Truth to be made
+manifest, and for a happy issue out of all these afflictions.
+
+"And this we beg for Jesus Christ, _His_ sake."
+
+Then much refreshed and comforted he emerged once more into the serene
+beauty of the night.
+
+He lit his pipe and sat there, quietly smoking. Presently Ibrahim the
+Egyptian began to croon a low song, one of the Egyptian songs that
+soldiers sing round the camp-fires.
+
+The man had done his term of compulsory service in the past, and perhaps
+this sudden transition from the comfortable quarters in Jerusalem to the
+old life of camp-fire and _plein air_ had its way with him and opened
+the springs of memory.
+
+This is part of what he sang in a thin, sad voice:
+
+    _Born in Galiub, since my birth, many times have I seen the
+         Nile's waters overflow our fields.
+    And I had a neighbour, Sheikh Abdehei, whose daughter's face was
+         known only to me:
+    Nothing could be compared to the beauty and tenderness of Fatmé.
+    Her eyes were as big as coffee cups, and her body was firm with the
+         vigour of youth.
+    We had one heart, and were free from jealousies, ready to be
+         united.
+    But Allah curse the military inspector who bound my two hands,
+    For, together with many more, we were marched off to the camp.
+    I was poor and had to serve, nothing could soften the inspector's
+         heart.
+    The drums and the trumpets daily soon made me forget my cottage and
+         the well-wheel on the Nile._
+
+The long-drawn-out notes vibrated mournfully in the night air.
+
+Sadly the singer put his hand to one side of his head, bending as if he
+were wailing.
+
+The quaint, imaginative song-story throbbed through many phases and
+incidents, and every now and again the motionless figures round the red
+embers wailed in sympathy.
+
+At last came the end, a happy climax, no less loved by these simple
+children of the desert than by the European novel reader.
+
+    _ ... So that I was in the hospital and had become most seriously
+        ill.
+    But swifter than the gazelle, the light of my life came near the
+        hospital.
+    And called in at the window, "Ibrahim! my eye! my heart!"
+    And full of joy I carried her about the camp, and presented her to
+        all my superiors, leaving out none, from the colonel down to the
+        sergeant.
+    I received my dismissal, to return to Galiub and to marry.
+    Old Abdehei was awaiting us, to bless us. God be praised!_
+
+So sang Ibrahim, the converted Christian, the Moslem songs of his youth;
+for here, in El Makhna, the plain of Shechem, there were no missionaries
+with their cold reproof and little hymns in simple couplets.
+
+The fire died away, and they slept until dawn flooded the plain.
+
+When, on the next day, the sun was waning, though still high in the
+western heavens, the travellers came within view of the ancient city of
+Nabulûs.
+
+There was a great tumult of excitement in Spence's pulses as he saw the
+city, radiant in the long afternoon lights, and far away.
+
+Here, in the confines of this distant glittering town, lay the last link
+in the terrible secret which he was to solve.
+
+On either side the purple slopes of the mountains made a mighty frame to
+the terraced houses below. Ebal and Gerizim kept solemn watch and ward
+over the city.
+
+The sun was just sinking as they rode into the suburbs. It was a lovely,
+placid evening.
+
+The abundant cascades of water, which flow from great fissures in the
+mountain and make this Turkish town the jewel of the East, glittered in
+the light.
+
+Below them the broad, still reservoirs lay like plates of gold.
+
+They rode through luxuriant groves of olives, figs, and vines,
+wonderfully grateful and refreshing to the eye after the burnt brown
+herbage of the plain, towards the regular camping-ground where all
+travellers lay.
+
+In the cool of the evening Spence and Ibrahim rode through the teeming
+streets to the Governor's house.
+
+It was a city of fanatics, so the Englishman had heard, and during the
+great Moslem festivals the members of the various, and rather extensive,
+missionary establishments were in constant danger. But as the two men
+rode among the wild armed men who sat in the bazaars or pushed along the
+narrow streets they were not in any way molested.
+
+After a ceremonious introduction and the delivery of the letter from the
+Governor of Jerusalem, Spence made known his business over the coffee
+and cigarettes which were brought immediately on his arrival.
+
+The Governor was a placid, pleasant-mannered man, very ready to give his
+visitor any help he could.
+
+It was represented to him that the man Ionides, who had but lately
+settled in the suburbs, was in the possession of some important secrets
+affecting the welfare of many wealthy residents in Jerusalem. These, it
+was hinted, were of a private nature, but in all probability great
+pressure would have to be put upon the Greek in order to receive any
+satisfactory confession.
+
+The conversation, which was carried on in French, ended in an eminently
+satisfactory way.
+
+"Monsieur will understand," said the Governor, "that I make no inquiry
+into the nature of the information monsieur wishes to obtain. I may or
+may not have my ideas upon that subject. The Greek was, I understand,
+intimately connected with the recent discoveries in Jerusalem. Let that
+pass. It is none of my business. Here I am a good Moslem, Allah be
+praised! it is a necessity of my official position."
+
+He laughed cynically, clapped his hands for a new brass vessel of
+creaming coffee and continued:
+
+"A political necessity, Monsieur, as a man of the world, will quite
+understand me. I have been in London, at the Embassy, and I myself am
+free from foolish prejudices. I am not Moslem in heart nor am I
+Christian--some coffee, Monsieur?--yes! Monsieur also is a man of the
+world!"
+
+Spence, sitting cross-legged opposite his host, had smiled an answering
+cynical smile at these words. He shrugged his shoulders and threw out
+his hands. Everything depended upon making a good impression upon this
+local autocrat.
+
+"Eh bien, monsieur avait raison-même--that, I repeat, is not my affair.
+But this letter from my brother of Jerusalem makes me of anxiety to
+serve your interests. And, moreover, the man is a Greek, of no great
+importance--we are not fond of the Greeks, we Turks! Now it is most
+probable that the man will not speak without persuasion. Moreover, that
+persuasion were better officially applied. To assist monsieur, I shall
+send Tewfik Pasha, my nephew, and captain commandant of the northern
+fort, with half a dozen men. If this dog will not talk they will know
+how to make him. I suppose you have no scruples as to any means they may
+employ? There are foolish prejudices among the Western people."
+
+Spence took his decision very quickly. He was a man who had been on many
+battle-fields, knew the grimness of life in many lands. If torture were
+necessary, then it must be so. The man deserved it, the end was great if
+the means were evil. It must be remembered that Spence was a man to
+whom the very loftiest and highest Christian ideals had not yet been
+made manifest. There are degrees in the struggle for saintliness; the
+journalist was but a postulant.
+
+He saw these questions of conduct roughly, crudely. His conscience
+animated his deeds, but it was a conscience as yet ungrown. And indeed
+there are many instruments in an orchestra, all tuneful perhaps to the
+conductor's beat, which they obey and understand, yet not all of equal
+eminence or beauty in the great scheme of the concert.
+
+The violin soars into great mysteries of emotion, calling high "in the
+deep-domed empyrean." The flutes whisper a chorus to the great story of
+their comrade. Yet, though the plangent sounding of the kettle-drums,
+the single beat of the barbaric cymbals are in one note and unfrequent,
+yet these minor messages go to swell the great tone-symphony and make it
+perfect in the serene beauty of something _directed and ordained_.
+
+"Sir," said the journalist, "the man must be made to speak. The methods
+are indifferent to me."
+
+"Oh, that can be done; we have a way," said the Governor.
+
+He shifted a little among his cushions. A certain dryness came into his
+voice as he resumed:
+
+"Monsieur, however, as a man of the world, will understand, no doubt,
+that when a private individual finds it necessary to invoke the powers
+of law it is a vast undertaking to move so ponderous a machine?... also
+it is a privilege? It is not, of course, a personal matter--_ça m'est
+égal_. But there are certain unavoidable and indeed quite necessary
+expenses which must be satisfied."
+
+Spence well understood the polite humbug of all this. He knew that in
+the East one buys justice--or injustice--as one can afford it. As the
+correspondent of that great paper over which Ommaney presided, he had
+always been able to spend money like water when it had been necessary.
+He had those powers now. There was nothing unusual to him in the
+situation, nor did he hesitate.
+
+"Your Excellency," he said, "speaks with great truth upon these points.
+It is ever from a man of your Excellency's penetration that one hears
+those dicta which govern affairs. I have a certain object in view, and I
+realise that to obtain it there are certain necessary formalities to be
+gone through. I have with me letters of credit upon the bank of Lelain
+Delaunay et Cie., of Jaffa, Jerusalem, and Athens."
+
+"A sound, estimable house," said the Governor, with a very pleased
+smile.
+
+"It but then remains," said Spence, "to confer with the secretary of
+your Excellency as to the sum which is necessary to pay for the legal
+expenses of the inquiry."
+
+"You speak most sensibly," said the Turk. "In the morning I will send
+the captain commandant and the soldiers to the encampment. My secretary
+shall accompany them. Then, Monsieur, when the little preliminaries are
+arranged, you will be free to start for the farm of this dog Ionides. It
+is not more than four miles from your camp, and my nephew will guide you
+there. May Allah prosper your undertaking."
+
+"--And have you in His care," replied Spence. "I will now have the
+honour to wish your Excellency undisturbed rest."
+
+He rose and bowed. The Turkish gentleman rose also and shook hands in
+genial European fashion.
+
+"Monsieur," he said, with an expansive smile, "Monsieur is without doubt
+a thorough man of the world."
+
+That night, in the suburbs of the city, sweet and fragrant as the olive
+groves and fig trees were, cool and fresh as the night wind was, Spence
+slept but little.
+
+He could hear the prowling dogs of the streets baying the Eastern moon,
+the owls hooted in the trees, but it was not these distant sounds, all
+mellowed by the distance, which drove rest and sleep away. It was the
+imminent sense of the great issues of the morrow, a wild and fierce
+excitement which forbade sleep or rest and filled his veins with fire.
+
+He could not quite realise what awful things hung upon the event of the
+coming day. He knew that his brain could not contain the whole terror
+and vastness of the thought.
+
+Indeed, he felt that _no_ brain could adequately realise the importance
+of it all.
+
+Yet even that partial realisation of which he was capable was enough to
+drive all peace away, the live-long night, to leave him nothing but the
+plangent, burning thought.
+
+He was very glad when the cool, hopeful dawn came.
+
+The nightmare of vigil was gone. Action was at hand. He prayed in the
+morning air.
+
+Presently, from the city gates, he saw a little cavalcade drawing near,
+twelve soldiers on wiry Damascene horses, an officer, with the
+Governor's secretary riding by his side.
+
+Those preliminaries of a signed draft upon the bank, which cupidity and
+the occasion demanded, were soon over.
+
+These twelve soldiers and their commandant cost him two hundred pounds
+"English"; but that was nothing.
+
+If his own words were ineffective, then the cord and wedge must do the
+rest. It had to be paid for.
+
+The world was waiting.
+
+On through the olive groves and the vines laden with purple. On, over
+the little stone-bridged cascades and streams--sweet gifts of lordly
+Ebal--round the eastern wall of the town, crumbling stone where the
+mailed lizards were sleeping in the sun; on to the low roofs and vivid
+trees where the Greek traitor had made his home!
+
+At length the red road opened before them on to a burnt plain which was
+the edge and brim of the farm.
+
+It lay direct and patent to the view, the place of the great secret.
+
+Ionides was waiting for them, under a light verandah which ran round the
+house, before they reached the building.
+
+He had seen them coming over the plain.
+
+A little elderly olive-skinned man, with restless eyes the colour of
+sherry, bowed and bent before them with terrified inquiry in every
+gesture.
+
+His gaze flickered over the arms and shabby uniforms of the soldiers
+with hate and fear in it mingled with a piteous cringing. It was the
+look which the sad Greek boatmen on the shores of the Bosphorus wear all
+their lives.
+
+Then he saw Spence and recognised him as the Englishman who had been the
+friend of Hands, and was at the meetings of the Conference.
+
+The sight of the journalist seemed to affect him like a sudden blow. The
+fear and uneasiness he had shown at the first sight of the Turkish
+soldiers were intensified a thousand-fold.
+
+The man seemed to shrink and collapse. His face became ashen grey, his
+lips parched suddenly, for his tongue began to curl round them in order
+to moisten their rigidity.
+
+With a great effort he forced himself to speak in English first, fluent
+enough but elementary, and then in a rush of French, the language of all
+Europe, and one with which the cosmopolitan Greek is ever at home.
+
+The captain gave an order. His men dismounted and tied up the horses.
+
+Then, taking the conduct of the affair into his own hands at once, he
+spoke to Ionides with a snarling contempt and brutality that he would
+hardly have used to a strolling street dog.
+
+"The English gentleman has come to ask you some questions, dog. See to
+it that you give a true answer and speedy. For, if not, there are many
+ways to make you. I have the warrant of his Excellency the Governor to
+do as I please with you and yours."
+
+The Greek made an inarticulate noise. He raised one long-fingered,
+delicate hand to his throat.
+
+Spence, as he watched, could not help a feeling of pity. The whole
+attitude of the man was inexpressibly painful in its sheer terror.
+
+His face had become a white wedge of fear.
+
+The officer spoke again.
+
+"You will take the English pasha into a private room," he said sternly,
+"where he will ask you all he wishes. I shall post two of my men at the
+door. Take heed that they do not have to summon me. And meanwhile bring
+out food and entertainment for me and my soldiers."
+
+He clapped his hands and the women of the house, who were peering round
+the end of the verandah, ran to bring pilaff and tobacco.
+
+Spence, with two soldiers, closely following the swaying, tottering
+figure of Ionides, went into a cool chamber opening on to the little
+central courtyard round which the house was built.
+
+It was a bare room, with a low bench or ottoman here and there.
+
+But, on the walls, oddly incongruous in such a setting, were some framed
+photographs. Hands, in a white linen suit and a wide Panama hat, was
+there; there was a photograph of the museum at Jerusalem, and a picture
+cut from an English illustrated paper of the Society's great excavations
+at Tell Sandahannah.
+
+It was odd, Spence thought gravely, that the man cared to keep these
+records of his life in Jerusalem, crowned as it was with such an act of
+treachery.
+
+He sat down on the ottoman. The Greek stood before him, cowering against
+the wall.
+
+It was a little difficult to know how he should begin; what was the best
+method to ensure a full confession.
+
+He lit a cigarette to help his thoughts.
+
+"What did Sir Robert Llwellyn give you?--how much?" he said suddenly.
+
+Again the look of ashen fear came over the Greek's face. He struggled
+with it before he spoke.
+
+"I am sorry that your meaning is not plain to me, sir. I do not know of
+whom you speak."
+
+"I speak of him whom you served secretly. It was with your aid that the
+'new' tomb was found. But before it was found you and Sir Robert
+Llwellyn were at work there. I have come to obtain from you a detailed
+confession of how the thing was done, who cut the inscription?--I must
+know everything. If not, I tell you with perfect truth, your life is not
+safe. The Governor has sent men with me and you will be made to speak."
+
+He spoke with a deep menace in his tone, and at the same time drew his
+revolver from the hip pocket of his riding-breeches and held it on his
+knee.
+
+He had begun to realise the awful nature of this man's deed more and
+more poignantly in his presence. True, he was the tool of greater
+intelligences, and his guilt was not so heavy as theirs. Nevertheless,
+the Greek was no fool, he had something of an education, he had not done
+this thing blindly.
+
+The man crouched against the wall, desperate and hopeless.
+
+One of the soldiers outside the door moved, and his sabre clanked.
+
+The sound was decisive. With a broken, husky voice Ionides began his
+miserable confession.
+
+How simple it was! Wild astonishment at the ease with which the whole
+thing had been done filled the journalist's brain.
+
+The tomb, already known to the Greek, the slow carving of the
+inscription at dead of night by Llwellyn, the new coating of _hamra_
+sealing up the inner chamber.
+
+And yet, so skilfully had the forgeries been committed, chance had so
+aided the forgers, and their secret had been so well preserved that the
+whole world of experts was deceived.
+
+In the overpowering relief of the confession Spence was but little
+interested in the details, but at length they were duly set down and
+signed by the Greek in the presence of the officer.
+
+By midnight the journalist was far away on the road to Jerusalem.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE LAST MEETING
+
+
+In Sir Robert Llwellyn's flat in Bond Street the electric bell suddenly
+rang, a shrill tinkle in the silence.
+
+Schuabe, who sat by the window, looked up with a strained, white face.
+
+Avoiding his glance, Llwellyn rose and went out into the passage. The
+latch of the door clicked, there was a murmur of voices, and Llwellyn
+returned, following a third person.
+
+Schuabe gave a scarcely perceptible shudder as this man entered.
+
+The man was a thick-set person of medium height, clean shaven. He was
+dressed in a frock-coat and carried a silk hat, neither new nor smart,
+yet not seedy nor showing any evidences of poverty. The man's face was
+one to inspire a sensitive or alert person with a sudden disgust and
+terror for which a name can hardly be found. It was an utterly
+abominable and black soul that looked out of the still rather bilious
+eyes.
+
+The eyes were much older than the rest of the face. They were full of a
+cold and deliberate cruelty and, worse even than this, such a hideous
+_knowledge_ of unmentionable crime was there! The lips made one thin,
+wicked curve which hardly varied in direction, for this man could not
+smile.
+
+He belonged to a certain horrible gang who infest the West End of
+London, bringing terror and ruin to all they meet. These people haunt
+the bars and music halls of the "pleasure" part of London.
+
+It were better for a man that he had never been born--a thousand times
+better--than that he should go among these men. Black shame and horrors
+worse than death they bring with both hands to the bitter fools who
+lightly meet them unknowing what they are.
+
+Constantine Schuabe, in the moment when he saw this man--knowing well
+who and what he was--knew the bitterest moment of his life.
+
+Vast criminal that he was himself, mighty in his evil brain, ... he was
+pure; certain infamies were not his.... He spat into his handkerchief
+with an awful physical disgust.
+
+"This is my friend, Nunc Wallace," said Llwellyn, pale and trembling.
+
+The man looked keenly at his two hosts. Then he sat down in a chair.
+
+"Well, gentlemen," he said in correct English, but with a curious lack
+of _timbre_, of life and feeling in his voice--he spoke as one might
+think a corpse would speak--"I'm sorry to say that it's all off. It
+simply can't be done at any price. Even I myself, 'King of the boys' as
+they call me, confess myself beaten."
+
+Schuabe gave a sudden start, almost of relief it seemed.
+
+Llwellyn cleared his throat once or twice before he could speak. When
+the words came at length there was a nauseous eagerness in them.
+
+"Why not, Wallace? Surely _you_ and your friends--it must be something
+very hard that you can't manage."
+
+The words jostled each other in their rapid utterance.
+
+"Give me a drink, Sir Robert, and I'll tell you the reason," said the
+man.
+
+Then, with an inexpressible assumption of confidence and an identity of
+interests, which galled and stung the two wretched men till they could
+hardly bear the torture of it, he began:
+
+"You see, it's like this; we can generally calculate on 'putting a man
+through it' if he's anything to do with racing on the Turf. I've seen a
+man's face kicked liver colour, and no one knew who did it. But this
+parson was a more difficult thing altogether. Then it has been very much
+complicated by the fact of his friend coming back.
+
+"The idea was to get into the chambers on the evening of this Spence's
+arrival and put them both through it. In fact, we'd arranged everything
+fairly well. But two nights ago, as I was in the American bar, at the
+Horsecloth, a man touched me on the arm. It was Detective Inspector
+Melton. He knows everything. 'Nunc,' he said, 'sit down at one of these
+little tables and have a drink. I want to say a few words to you.' Well,
+of course I had to. He knows every one of the boys.
+
+"'Now, look here,' he said straight out. 'Some of your crowd have been
+watching the Rev. Basil Gortre of Lincoln's Inn; also, you've had a man
+at Charing Cross waiting for the continental express. Now, I've nothing
+against you _yet_, but I'll just tell you this. The people behind you
+aren't any guarantee for you. It's not as you think. This is a big
+thing. I'll tell you something more. This Mr. Gortre and this Mr.
+Spence you're waiting for are guarded night and day by order of the Home
+Secretary. It's an international affair. You can no more touch them than
+you can touch the Prince of Wales. Is that clear? If it's not, then
+you'll come with me at once on suspicion. I can put my finger on Bunny
+Watson'--he's my organising pal, gentlemen--'inside of an hour.'"
+
+He stopped at last, taking another drink with a shaking hand, watching
+the other two with horribly observing eyes.
+
+His cleverness had at once shown him that he had stumbled into something
+far more dangerous than any ordinary incident of his horrid trade. A
+million pounds would not have made him touch the "business" now. He had
+come to say this to his employers now.
+
+The unhappy men became aware that the man was looking at them both with
+a new expression. There was wonder in his cold eyes now, and a sort of
+fear also. When Llwellyn had first sought him with black and infamous
+proposals, there had been none of this. _That_ had seemed ordinary
+enough to him, the reason he did not inquire or seek to know.
+
+But now there was inquiry in his eyes.
+
+Both Schuabe and Llwellyn saw it, knew the cause, and shuddered.
+
+There was a tense silence, and then the creature spoke again. There was
+a loathsome confidential note in his voice.
+
+"Now, gentlemen," he said, "you've already paid me well for any little
+kindness I may have been able to try to do for you. I suppose, now that
+the little job is 'off,' I shall not get the rest of the sum agreed
+upon?"
+
+Schuabe, without speaking, made a sign to Llwellyn. The big man got up,
+went to a little nest of mahogany drawers which stood on his
+writing-table, and opening one of them, took from it a bundle of notes.
+
+He gave them to the assassin. "There, Nunc," he said; "no doubt you've
+done all you could. You won't find us ungrateful. But I want to ask you
+a few questions."
+
+The man took the notes, counted them deliberately, and then looked up
+with a gleam of satisfied greed passing over his face--the gleam of a
+pale sunbeam in hell.
+
+"Ask anything you like, sir," he said; "I'll give you any help I can."
+
+Already there was a ring almost of patronage in his voice. The word
+"help" was slightly emphasised.
+
+"This inspector, who is he exactly? I mean, is he an important person?"
+
+"He is the man who has charge of all the big things. He goes abroad when
+one of the big city men bunk to South America. He generally works
+straight from the Home Office; he's the Government man. To tell the
+truth, I was surprised to meet _him_ in the Horsecloth. One of the
+others generally goes there. When _he_ began to talk, I knew that there
+was something important, more than usual."
+
+"He definitely said that he knew your--backers?"
+
+"Yes, he did; and what's more, gentlemen, he seemed to know too much
+altogether about the business. I don't pretend to understand it. _I_
+don't know why a young parson and a press reporter are being looked
+after by Government as if they were continental sovereigns and the
+Anarchists were trying to get at them--no more than I know why two such
+gentlemen as you are wanting two smaller men put through it. But all's
+well that ends well. _I'm_ satisfied enough, and I'm extremely glad that
+I got this notice in time to stop it off. But whatever you do,
+gentlemen, give up any idea of doing those two any harm. You couldn't do
+it--couldn't get near them. Give it up, gentlemen. Somehow or other,
+they know all about it. Be careful. Now I'm off. Good-day, gentlemen.
+Look after yourselves. I fear there is trouble brewing somewhere, though
+it won't come through _me_. They can't _prove_ anything on our side."
+
+He went slowly out of the room, back into the darkness of the pit whence
+he came, to the dark which mercifully hides such as he from the gaze of
+dwellers under the heavens.
+
+Only the police of London know all about these men, and their
+imaginations are not, perhaps, strong enough to let the horror of
+contact remain with them.
+
+When he had gone, Llwellyn sank heavily into a chair. He covered his
+face with his hands and moaned.
+
+"Oh, fool that I was to try anything of the sort!" hissed Schuabe. "I
+might have known!"
+
+"What is the state of things, really, do you suppose?" said Llwellyn.
+
+"Imminent with doom for us!" Schuabe answered in a deep and melancholy
+voice. "It is all clear to me now. Your woman was set on to you by these
+men from the first. They are clever men. Michael Manichoe is behind them
+all. She got the story. Spence has been sent to verify it. He has got
+everything from Ionides. The Government has been told. These things have
+been going on during the last few hours. Spence has cabled something of
+his news, perhaps not all. He will be back to-day, this afternoon. He
+will have left Paris by now, and almost be nearing Amiens. In that
+train, Llwellyn, lies our death-warrant. Nothing can stop it. They will
+send the news all over the world to-night. It will be announced in
+London by dinner-time, probably."
+
+Llwellyn groaned again. In this supreme hour of torture the sensualist
+was nearer collapse than the ascetic. His life told heavily. He looked
+up. His face was green-grey save where, here and there, his fingers had
+pressed into, and left red marks upon, the cheeks, which had lost their
+firmness and begun to be pendulous and flabby.
+
+"What do you think must be the end?" he said.
+
+"The end is here," said Schuabe. "What matters the form or manner of it?
+They may bring in a bill and hang us, they will certainly give us penal
+servitude for life, but probably we shall be torn in pieces by the mob.
+There is only one thing left."
+
+He made an expressive gesture. Llwellyn shuddered.
+
+"All is not necessarily at an end," he said. "I shall make a last effort
+to get away. I have still got the clergyman's clothes I wore when I went
+to Jerusalem. There will be time to get out of London before this
+evening."
+
+"All over the continent and America you would be known. There is no
+getting away nowadays. As for me, I shall go down to my place in
+Manchester by the mid-day train. There is just time to catch it. And
+there I shall die before they can come to me."
+
+He got up and strode away out of the flat with a set, stern face. Never
+a passing look did he give to the man he had enriched and damned for
+ever. Never a gesture of farewell.
+
+Already he was as one in the grave. Llwellyn, left to himself in the
+silent, richly furnished flat, fell into hysterical sobbing.
+
+His big body shook with the vehemence of his unnatural terror. His moans
+and cries were utterly without dignity or pathos. He was filled with the
+immense self-pity of the sensualist.
+
+It is the added torture which comes to the evil-liver.
+
+In the hour of blackness, every moment of physical gratification or sin
+adds its weight to the terrible burden which must be borne.
+
+This man felt that he was lost. Perhaps all hope was not quite dead. He
+called on all his courage to make a last attempt at escape.
+
+He must leave this place at once. He would go first to his house in
+Upper Berkeley Street, Lady Llwellyn's house! His wife.
+
+Something strange and long forgotten moved within him at that word. What
+might not his life have been by her side, a life lived in open honour!
+What had he done with it all? His great name, his fame, were built up
+slowly by his long and brilliant work. Yet all the time that fair
+edifice was being undermined by secret workers. The lusts of the flesh
+were deep below the structure, their hammers were always slowly
+tapping--and now it was all over.
+
+He drove up to his own door, unlocked it, and went up the stairs to his
+own rooms.
+
+Though he had not been near them for weeks, he saw--with how keen a pang
+of regret--that they were swept and tidy, ready for his coming at any
+time.
+
+He rang the bell.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+DEATH COMING WITH ONE GRACE
+
+
+The door opened softly. A long beam of late winter sunshine which had
+been pouring in at the opposite window and striking the door with its
+projection of golden powder suddenly framed, played over, and lighted up
+the figure of Lady Llwellyn.
+
+Sir Robert stood in the middle of the pleasant room and looked at her.
+
+The sunlight showed up the grey pallor of her face, the lines of sorrow
+and resignation, the faded hair, the thin and bony hands.
+
+"Kate," he said in a weak voice.
+
+It was the first time he had called her by her name for many years.
+
+The tired face lit up with a swift and divine tenderness.
+
+She made a step forward into the room.
+
+He was swaying a little, giddy, it seemed.
+
+She looked him full in the face and saw things there which she had
+never seen before. A great horror was upon him, a frightful awakening
+from the long, sensual sloth of his life.
+
+Moving, working, in that great countenance, generally so impassive,
+uninfluenced by any emotion--at least to her long watchings--except by a
+moody irritation, she saw Doom, Fate, the Call of the Eumenides.
+
+It came to the poor woman in a sudden wave of illuminating certainty.
+
+She _knew_ the end had come.
+
+And yet, strangely enough, she felt nothing but a quickening of the
+pulses, a swift embracing pity which was almost a joy in its breaking
+away of barriers.
+
+If the end were here, it should be together--at last together.
+
+For she loved this cruel, sinning man, this lover of light loves, this
+man of purple, fine linen, and the sparkling deadly wines of life.
+
+"Kate!"
+
+He said it once more.
+
+Her manner changed. Shrinking, timidity, fear, fled for ever. In her
+overpowering rush of protecting love all the diffidences of temperament,
+all the bars which he had forced her to build around her instincts, were
+swept utterly away.
+
+She went quickly up to him, folded him in her arms.
+
+"Robert!" she said, "poor boy, the end has come to it all. I knew it
+must come some day. Well, we have not been happy. I wonder if _you_ have
+been happy? No, I don't think so. But now, Robert, you have me to
+comfort you with my love once more, my poor Robert, once more, as in the
+old, simple days when we were young."
+
+She led him to a couch.
+
+He trembled violently. His decision of movement seemed to have gone.
+His purpose of flight had for the moment become obscure.
+
+And now, into this man's heart came a remorse and regret so awful, a
+realisation so sudden and strong, so instinct with a pain for which
+there is no name, that everything before his eyes turned to burning
+fire.
+
+The flames of his agony burnt up the veils which had for so long
+obscured the truth. They shrivelled and vanished.
+
+Too late, too late, he knew what he had lost.
+
+The last agony wrenched his brain round again to another and more
+terrible contemplation.
+
+His thoughts were in other and outside hands, which pulled his brain
+from one scene to another as a man moves the eye of the camera obscura
+to different fields of view.
+
+Incredible as it may seem, for the first time Llwellyn _realised what he
+had done_--realised, that is, in its entirety, the whole horror and
+consequences of that action of his which was to kill him now.
+
+He had not _been able_ to see the magnitude and extent of his crime
+before--either at the time when it was proposed to him, except at the
+first moment of speech, or after its committal.
+
+His brain and temperament had been wrapped round in the hideous fact of
+sensuality, which deadens and destroys sensation.
+
+And now, with his wife's thin arms round him, her withered cheek pressed
+to his, her words of glad love, a martyr's swan song in his ears, he
+_saw_, _knew_, and _understood_.
+
+Through the terror of his thoughts her words began to penetrate.
+
+"I know, Robert--husband, I know. The end is here. But what has
+happened? Tell me everything, that I may comfort you the more. Tell me,
+Robert, _for the dear Christ's sake_!"
+
+At those words the man stiffened. "For the dear Christ's sake!"
+
+Suddenly, in the disorder and tumult of his tortured brain, came, quite
+foolishly and inconsequently, a quotation from an old French
+romance--full of satire and the keen cynicism of a period--which he had
+been reading:
+
+     "_'Tres volontiers,' repartit le démon.
+     'Vous aimez les tableaux changeans;
+     Je veux vous contenter.'_"
+
+Yes! the devil who was torturing him now had shown him many moving
+aspects of life. _Les tableaux changeans!_
+
+But now, at last, here was the worst moment of all.
+
+"_For the dear Christ's sake, tell me, Robert!_"
+
+How could he tell _this_?
+
+This was his last moment of peace, his last chance of any help or hope.
+
+He had begun to cling to her, to mingle foolish tears with hers--the
+while his fired brain ranged all the halls of agony.
+
+For if he told her--this gentle Christian lady, to whom he had been so
+unkind--then she would never touch him more.
+
+The last hours--there was but little time remaining--would be alone.
+ALONE!
+
+This new revelation that her love was still his, wonder of mysteries!
+this came at the last moments to aid him.
+
+A last grace before the running waters closed over him. Was he to give
+this up?
+
+The thought of flight lay like a wounded bird in his brain. It crept
+about it like some paralysed thing. Not yet dead, but inactive. Though
+he knew how terribly the moments called to him, yet he could not act.
+
+The myriad agonies he was enduring now, agonies so various and great
+that he knew Hell had none greater, these, even these were alleviated by
+the wonder of his wife's love.
+
+The terrible remorse that was knocking at his heart could not undo that.
+
+He clung to her.
+
+"Tell me all about it, Robert. I will forgive you, whatever you have
+done. I have long ago forgiven everything in my heart. There are only
+the words to say."
+
+She rested her worn, tired head on his shoulder. The sunbeams gave it a
+glory.
+
+Again the man must suffer a terrible agony. She had asked him to tell
+her all his trouble in a voice full of gentle pleading.
+
+_Whose voice did her voice recall to him; what fatal hour?_ A coarser
+voice, a richer voice, trembling, so he had thought, with love for him.
+
+"_Tell me everything, Bob!_" It was Gertrude's voice.
+
+The day of his undoing! The day when his horrid secret was wrested from
+him by the levers of his own passions. The day which had brought him to
+this. _Finis coronat opus!_
+
+But the agony within him was the agony of _contrast_.
+
+The great fires round his soul had burnt his lust away. There was no
+more regret or longing for the evil past. All the joys of a sensual life
+seemed as if they had never been. Now, the pain was the pain of a man,
+not who knows the worst too soon, but who knows the best too late!
+
+A vivid picture, a succession of thoughts following each other with such
+kinetic swiftness that they became welded in one single picture, as one
+may see a vast landscape of wood and torrent, champaign and forest, in
+one flash of the storm sword, came to him now.
+
+And, at the last, he saw himself seated at a great table in a noble
+room. There were soft lights. Silver and flowers were there. Round the
+board sat many men and women. On their faces was the calm triumph of
+those who had succeeded in a fine battle, won an intellectual strife.
+The faces were calm, powerful, serene. They were the salt of society. He
+saw his own face in a little mirror set among the flowers. His face was
+even as their faces. Self-reverence had dignified it, self-knowledge and
+self-control had turned the lines to kindly marble, defiant of time.
+
+At the other end of the table sat a calm and gracious lady, richly
+dressed in some glowing sombre stuff. She was the grave and loving
+matron who slept by his side.
+
+Full of honour, full of the glorious satisfaction of a great work well
+done, a life lived well; hand in hand, a noble and notable pair, they
+were making their fine progress together.
+
+"I am waiting, Robert, dear!"
+
+Then he knew that he must speak. In rapid words, which seemed to come
+from a vast distance, he confessed it all.
+
+He told her how Schuabe had tempted him with a vast fortune, how he was
+already in his power when the temptation had come. How his evil desires
+had so gripped him, his life of sin had become like air itself to him.
+
+He told of the secret visit to Palestine and the forgery which had
+stirred the world.
+
+As he spoke, he felt, in some subtle way, that the life and warmth were
+dying out of the arms which were round him.
+
+The electric current of devotion which had been flowing from this lady
+seemed to flicker and die away.
+
+The awful story was ended at last.
+
+Then with a face in which the horror came out in waves, inexpressibly
+terrible to see, with each beat of the pulses a wave of unutterable
+horror, she slowly rose.
+
+Her arms fell heavily to her sides, all her motions became automatic,
+jerky.
+
+Slowly, slowly, she turned.
+
+Her feet made no noise as she moved over the room. Her garments did not
+rustle. But she walked, not as an elderly woman, but a very old woman.
+
+The door clicked softly. He was left alone in the comfortable room.
+
+Alone.
+
+He stood up, tottered a few steps in the direction she had gone, and
+then, with a resounding crash which shook the furniture in a succession
+of quick rattles, his great form fell prone upon the floor.
+
+He lay there, head downwards, with the sunshine pouring on him, still
+and without any reactionary movement.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The afternoon was begun. London was as it had been for days. The
+uneasiness and unrest which were now become the common incubus of its
+inhabitants neither grew nor lessened.
+
+The afternoon papers were merely repetitions of former days. Great
+financial houses were tottering, rumours of wars were growing every
+hour, no country was at rest, no colony secure. Over the world
+lawlessness and rapine were holding horrid revel.
+
+But, and long afterwards, this fact was noticed and commented on by the
+historians: on this especial winter's afternoon there was no
+ultra-alarming shock, speaking comparatively, to the general state of
+things.
+
+In the pale winter sunshine men moved heavily about their business, the
+common burden was shared by all, but there was no loud trumpet note
+during those hours.
+
+About four o'clock some carriages drove to Downing Street. In one sat
+Sir Michael Manichoe, Father Ripon, Harold Spence, and Basil Gortre.
+
+In another was the English Consul at Jerusalem, who had arrived with
+Spence from the Holy City, Dr. Schmöulder from Berlin, and the Duke of
+Suffolk.
+
+The carriages stopped at the house of the Prime Minister and the party
+entered.
+
+Nothing occurred, visibly, for an hour, though urgent messages were
+passing over the telephone wires.
+
+In an hour's time a cab came driving furiously down the Embankment,
+round by the new Scotland Yard and St. Stephen's Club, into Parliament
+Street.
+
+The cab contained the Editor of the _Times_. Following his arrival, in a
+few seconds, a number of other cabs drove up, all at a fast pace. Each
+one contained a prominent journalist. Ommaney was among the first to
+arrive, and Folliott Farmer was with him.
+
+It was nearly an hour when these people left Downing Street, all with
+very grave faces.
+
+A few minutes after their departure Sir Michael and his party came out,
+accompanied by several ministers, including the Home Secretary and the
+Chief Commissioner of Police.
+
+Though the distance to Scotland Yard is only a few hundred yards, the
+latter gentleman jumped into a passing hansom and was driven rapidly to
+his office.
+
+This brings the time up to about six o'clock.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was quite dark in Sir Robert's room. A faint yellow flicker came
+through the window, which was not curtained, from a gas lamp in the
+street. A dull and distant murmur from the Edgeware Road could be dimly
+heard, otherwise the room was quite silent.
+
+Llwellyn did not lie where he had fallen. His swoon had lasted long and
+no one had come to succour him. But the end was not just yet. The
+merciful oblivion of passing from a swoon into death was denied him.
+
+He had come to his senses late in the afternoon, about the time that the
+large party of people had emerged on foot and in carriages from the
+narrow _cul-de-sac_ of Downing Street.
+
+He had felt very cold, an icy-cold. There had come a terrible moment.
+The physical sensation was swamped and forgotten in one frightful flash
+of realisation. He was alone, the end was at hand.
+
+Alone.
+
+Instinctively he had tried to rise. He was lying face downwards at the
+return of sensation. His legs would not answer the message of his brain
+when he tried to move them so that he might rise. They lay like long
+dead cylinders behind him. He was able to drag himself very slowly, for
+a yard or two, until he reached an ottoman. He could not lift the vast
+weight of his body into the seat. It was utterly beyond his strength. He
+propped his trunk against the seat. It was all he was able to
+accomplish. Icy-cold sweat ran down his cheeks at the exertion. After he
+had finished moving he found that all strength had left him.
+
+He was paralysed from the waist downwards. The rest of his body was too
+weak to move him.
+
+Only his brain was working with a terrible activity, there alone in the
+chill dark.
+
+There came into his molten brain the impulse to pray. Deep down in every
+human heart that impulse lies.
+
+It is a seed planted there by God that it may grow into the tree of
+salvation.
+
+The effort was sub-conscious. Almost simultaneously with it came the
+awful remembrance of what he had done.
+
+A name danced in letters of flame in his brain--JUDAS.
+
+He looked round for some means to end this unbearable torture. He could
+see nothing, the room was very cold and dark, but he knew there was a
+case of razors on a table by the window.
+
+When he tried to move he found that he could not. The paralysis was
+growing upwards.
+
+Then this was to be the end?
+
+A momentary flood of relief came over him. His blood seemed warm again.
+
+But the sensation died rapidly away, the physical and mental glow alike.
+
+He remembered those cases, frequent enough, when the whole body loses
+the power of movement, but the brain survives, active, alive, helpless.
+
+And all the sweat which the physical glow had induced turned to little
+icicles all over his body, even as the thought froze in his brain.
+
+An hour went by.
+
+Alone in the dark.
+
+His tongue was parched and dry. A sudden wonder came to him--could he
+speak still?
+
+Without realising what word he used as a test he spoke.
+
+"Kate."
+
+A gaunt whisper in the silence.
+
+Silence! How silent it was! Yet no, he could hear the distant rumbling
+of the traffic. He became suddenly conscious of it. Surely it was very
+loud?
+
+It must be this physical change which was creeping over him. His head
+was swimming, disordered.
+
+Yet it seemed strangely loud.
+
+And louder, as he began to listen intently. He could not move his head
+to catch the sound more clearly, but he was beginning to hear it well
+enough now.
+
+No traffic ever sounded quite like that. It was like an advancing tide,
+thundering, as a horse gallops, over flat, level sands.
+
+A great sea rushing towards--towards what?
+
+Then he knew what that sound was.
+
+At last he knew.
+
+He could hear the individual shouts that made up the enormous mass of
+menacing sound.
+
+The nation was coming to take its revenge upon its betrayer.
+
+Mob law!
+
+They had found him out. It was as Schuabe had said--the great conspiracy
+was at an end. The stunning truth was out, flying round the world with
+its glad message.
+
+Yet, though once more the dishonoured Cross gleamed as the one solace in
+the hearts of men whose faith had been weak, though at that moment the
+glad news was racing round the world, yet the evil was not over.
+
+The Prince of the Powers of the air had reigned too long. Not lightly
+was he to relinquish his sceptre and dominion.
+
+They were in the erst-while quiet street below. The whole space was
+packed with the roaring multitude. The cries and curses came up to him
+in one roaring volume of sound, sounds that one looking over the brink
+of the pit of hell might hear.
+
+A heavy blow upon the stout door of the old well-built house shook the
+walls where the palsied Judas lay impotent.
+
+Another crash! The room was much lighter now, the crowd below had lights
+with them.
+
+Crash.
+
+The door opened silently. Lady Llwellyn came swiftly into the room.
+
+She wore a long white robe. Her face was lighted as if a lamp shone
+behind it.
+
+In her hand was the great crucifix which was wont to hang above her bed.
+
+When Christ died and bade the dying thief ascend with him to Paradise,
+can we say that His silence condemned the other?
+
+Her face was all aglow with love.
+
+"Robert!" she said. Her voice was like the voice of an angel.
+
+Her arms are round him, her kisses press upon him, the great crucifix is
+lifted to his dying eyes.
+
+A great thunder on the stairs, furious voices, the tide rising higher,
+higher.
+
+Death.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+AT WALKTOWN AGAIN
+
+
+The news came to Walktown, the final confirmation of what had been so
+long suspected, in a short telegram from Basil, dispatched immediately
+he had left Downing Street.
+
+Mr. Byars and Helena had been kept well acquainted with every step in
+the progress of the investigation.
+
+Ever since Gortre had left Walktown, after his holiday visit, his
+suspicions had been ringing in the vicar's ears.
+
+Then, when the matter had been communicated to Sir Michael and Father
+Ripon, when Spence had started, and Mr. Byars knew that all the powers
+of wealth and intellect were at work, his hopes revived.
+
+The vicar's faith had never for a single moment wavered.
+
+In the crash of the creeds his deep conviction never wavered.
+
+The light burned steadily before the altar.
+
+He had been one of the faithful thousands, learned, simple, Methodist,
+ritualist, who _knew_ that this thing could not be.
+
+Nevertheless his courage had been failing him. Life seemed to have lost
+its sweetness, and often he humbly wondered when he should die, hoping
+that the time was not too long--not without a tremulous belief that God
+would recognise that he had fought the good fight and kept the faith.
+
+In his own immediate neighbourhood the consequences of the "Discovery"
+nearly broke his heart. He had no need to look beyond Walktown. Even the
+great political events which were stirring the world had left him
+unmoved. His own small corner of the vineyard, now, alas! so choked with
+rank, luxuriant growth, was enough for this faithful pastor. Here he saw
+nothing but vice suddenly rearing its head and threatening to overwhelm
+all else. He heard the Holy Names blasphemed with all the inventions of
+obscene imaginations, assailed with all the wit of full-blooded men
+amazed and rejoiced that they could stifle their consciences at last.
+And this after all his life-work among these folk! He had given them of
+his best. His prayers, his intellect, much of his money had been theirs.
+
+How insolently they had exulted over him, these coarse and vulgar
+hearts!
+
+When Basil had first told Mr. Byars of his suspicions the vicar can
+hardly have been blamed for regarding them sadly as the generous effects
+of a young and ardent soul seeking to find an _immediate_ way out of the
+_impasse_.
+
+The elder man knew that fraud had been at work, but he suspected no such
+modern and insolent attempt as Basil indicated. It was too much to
+believe. Gortre had left him most despondent.
+
+But his interest had soon become quickened and alive, as the private
+reports from London reached him.
+
+When he knew that great people were moving quietly, that the weight of
+Sir Michael was behind Gortre, he knew at once that in all probability
+Basil's suspicions were right.
+
+A curious change came over the vicar's public appearances and
+utterances. His sermons were full of fire, almost Pauline in their
+strength. People began to flow and flock into the great empty church at
+Walktown. Mr. Byars's fame spread.
+
+Then, swiftly, after the first week or two, had come the beginning of
+the great financial depression.
+
+It was felt acutely in Manchester.
+
+All the wealthy, comfortable, easy-going folk who grudgingly paid a
+small pew-rent out of their superfluity became alarmed, horribly
+alarmed. The Christianity which had sat so lightly upon them that at
+first opportunity they had rushed into the Unitarian meeting-houses
+became suddenly a very desirable thing.
+
+In the fall of Christianity they saw their own fortunes falling. And
+these self-deceivers would be swept back upon the tide of this reaction
+into the arms of the Anglican mother they had despised.
+
+The vicar saw all this. He was a keen expert in, and student of, human
+affairs, and withal a psychologist. He saw his opportunity.
+
+His words lashed and stung these renegades. They were made to see
+themselves as they were; the preacher cut away all the ground from under
+them. They were left face to face with naked shame.
+
+What puzzled and yet uplifted the congregation at St. Thomas's was their
+vicar's extraordinary _certainty_ that the spiritual darkness over the
+land was shortly to be removed.
+
+It was commented on, keenly observed, greatly wondered at.
+
+"Mr. Byars speaks," said Mr. Pryde, a wealthy solicitor, "as if he had
+some private information about this Palestine discovery. He is so
+confident that he magnetises one into his own state of mind, and Byars
+is not a very emotional man either. His conviction is _real_. It's not
+hysteria."
+
+And, being a shrewd, silent man, the solicitor formed his own
+conclusions, but said nothing of them.
+
+The church continued full of worshippers.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When the news from Basil came, the vicar was sitting before the fire in
+his lighted study. He had been expecting the telegram all day.
+
+His brain had been haunted by the picture of that distinguished figure
+with the dark red hair he had so often met.
+
+Again he saw the millionaire standing in his drawing-room proffering
+money for scholarships. And in Dieppe also!
+
+How well and clearly he saw the huge figure of the _savant_ in his coat
+of astrachan, with his babble of soups and _entrée_!
+
+Try as he would, the vicar could not hate these two men. The sin, the
+awful sin, yes, a thousand times. Horror could not be stretched far
+enough, no hatred could be too great for such immensity of crime.
+
+But in his great heart, in his large, human nature there was a Divine
+_pity_ for this wretched pair. He could not help it. It was part of him.
+He wondered if he were not erring in feeling pity. Was not this, indeed,
+that mysterious sin against the Holy Ghost for which there was no
+forgiveness? Was it not said of Judas that for his deed he should lie
+for ever in hell?
+
+The telegram was brought in by a neat, unconcerned housemaid.
+
+Then the vicar got up and locked the inner door of his study. He knelt
+in prayer and thanksgiving.
+
+It was a moment of intense spiritual communion with the Unseen.
+
+This good man, who had given his vigorous life and active intellect to
+God, knelt humbly at his study table while a joy and happiness not of
+this earth filled all his soul.
+
+At that supreme moment, when the sense of the glorious vindication of
+Christ flooded the priest's whole being with ecstasy, he knew, perhaps,
+a faint foreshadowing of the life the Blessed live in Heaven.
+
+For a few brief moments that imperfect instrument, the human body, was
+permitted a glimpse, a flash of the eternal joy prepared for the saints
+of God.
+
+The vicar drew very near the Veil.
+
+Helena beat at the door; he opened to her, the tall, gracious lady.
+
+She saw the news in her father's face.
+
+They embraced with deep and silent emotion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two hours later the vicarage was full of people.
+
+The news had arrived.
+
+Special editions of the evening papers were being shouted through the
+streets. Downing Street had spoken, and in Manchester--as in almost
+every great city in England--the Truth was pulsing and throbbing in the
+air, spreading from house to house, from heart to heart.
+
+Every one knew it in Walktown now.
+
+There was a sudden unanimous rush of people to the vicarage.
+
+Each big, luxurious house all round sent out its eager owners into the
+night.
+
+They came to show the pastor, who had not failed them in the darkness,
+their joy and gratitude now that light had come at last.
+
+How warm and hearty these North-country people were! Mr. Byars had never
+penetrated so deeply beneath the somewhat forbidding crust of manner and
+surface-hardness before.
+
+Mingled with the sense of shame and misery at their own lukewarmness,
+there was a fine and genuine desire to show the vicar how they honoured
+him for his steadfastness.
+
+"You've been an example to all of us, vicar," said a hard-faced,
+brassy-voiced cotton-spinner, a kindly light in his eyes, his lips
+somewhat tremulous.
+
+"We haven't done as we ought to by t' church," said another, "but you'll
+see that altered, Mr. Byars. Eh! but our faith has been weak! There'll
+be many a Christian's heart full of shame and sorrow for the past months
+this night, I'm thinking."
+
+They crowded round him, this knot of expensively dressed people,
+hard-faced and harsh-spoken, with a warmth and contrition which moved
+the old man inexpressibly.
+
+Never before had he been so near to them. Dimly he began to think he saw
+a wise and awful purpose of God, who had allowed this iniquity and
+calamity that the faith of the world might be strengthened.
+
+"We'll never forget what you've done for us, Mr. Byars."
+
+"If we've been lukewarm before, vicar, 't will be all boiling now!"
+
+"Praise God that He has spoken at last, and God forgive us for
+forgetting Him."
+
+The air was electric with love and praise.
+
+"Will you say a prayer, vicar?" asked one of the churchwardens. "It
+seems the time for prayer and a word or two like."
+
+The company knelt down.
+
+It was a curious scene. In the richly furnished drawing-room the group
+of portly men and matrons knelt at chairs and sofas, stolid,
+respectable, and middle-aged.
+
+But here and there a shoulder shook with suppressed emotion, a faint sob
+was heard. This, to many of them there, was the greatest spiritual
+moment they had ever known. Confirmation, communion, all the episodic
+mile-stones of the professing Christian's life had been experienced and
+passed decorously enough. But the inward fire had not been there. The
+deep certainty of God's mysterious commune with the brain, the deep love
+for Christ which glows so purely and steadfastly among the saints still
+on earth--these were coming to them now.
+
+And, even as the fires of the Paraclete had descended upon the Apostles
+many centuries before, so now the Holy Spirit began to stir and move
+these Christians at Walktown.
+
+The vicar offered up the joy and thanks of his people. He prayed that,
+in His mercy, God would never again let such extreme darkness descend
+upon the world. Even as He had said, "Neither will I again smite any
+more every thing living, as I have done."
+
+He prayed that all those who had been cast into spiritual darkness, or
+who had left the fold of Christ, might now return to it with contrite
+hearts and be in peace.
+
+Finally, they said the Lord's Prayer with deep feeling, and the vicar
+blessed them.
+
+And for each one there that night became a precious, helpful memory
+which remained with them for many years.
+
+Afterwards, while servants brought coffee, always the accompaniment to
+any sort of function in Walktown, the talk broke out into a hushed
+amazement.
+
+The news which had been telegraphed everywhere consisted of a statement
+signed by the Secretary of State and the archbishops that the discovery
+in Palestine was a forgery executed by Sir Robert Llwellyn at the
+instigation of Constantine Schuabe.
+
+"Ample and completely satisfying evidence is in our possession," so the
+wording ran. "We render heartfelt gratitude to Almighty God that He has
+in His wisdom caused this black conspiracy to be discovered. The thanks
+of the whole world, the gratitude of all Christians, must be for those
+devoted and faithful men who have been the instruments of Providence in
+discovering the Truth. Sir Michael Manichoe, the Rev. Basil Gortre, the
+Rev. Arthur Ripon, and Mr. Harold Spence have alone dispelled the clouds
+that have hung over the Christian world."
+
+It was a frightful shock to these people to know how a great magnate
+among them, a business _confrère_, the member for their own division, an
+intimate, should have done this thing.
+
+As long as the world lasted the Owner of Mount Prospect who had spoken
+on their platforms would be accursed. It was too startling to realise at
+once; the thought only became familiar gradually, in little jerks, as
+one aspect after another presented itself to their minds.
+
+It was incredible that this antichrist had been long housed among them
+but a mile from where they stood.
+
+"What will they do to him?"
+
+"Who can say! There's never been a case like it before, you see."
+
+"Well, the paper doesn't say, but I expect they've got them safe enough
+in London--Mr. Schuabe and the other fellow."
+
+"Just to think of our Mr. Gortre helping to find it out! Pity we ever
+let him go away from the parish church."
+
+"They can't do less than make him a bishop, I should think."
+
+"Miss Byars, you ought to be proud of your young man. There's many folk
+blessing him in England this night."
+
+And so on, and so forth; simple, homely speeches, not indeed free from a
+somewhat hard commercial view, but informed with kindliness and
+gratitude.
+
+At last, one by one, they went away. It was close upon midnight when the
+last visitor had departed.
+
+The vicar read a psalm to his daughter:
+
+     "_Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to
+     thy word. For mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou hast
+     prepared before the face of all people._"
+
+Basil was to come to them on the morrow for a long stay.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+IN THREE PICTURES
+
+     NOTE.--_The three pictures all synchronise. The episodes they
+     portray take place five years after the day upon which Sir Robert
+     Llwellyn died._--G. T.
+
+
+I. THE GRAVE
+
+Two figures walked over the cliffs.
+
+The day was wild and stormy. Huge clouds, bursting with sombre light,
+sailed over the pewter-coloured sea. The bleak magnificence of the moor
+stretched away in endless billows, as sad and desolate as the sea on
+which no sail was to be seen.
+
+The wayfarers turned out of the struggle of the bitter wind into a
+slight depression. A few scattered cottages began to come into the field
+of their vision.
+
+Soon they saw the whitewashed buildings of a coast-guard station and the
+high, square tower of a church.
+
+"So it's all settled, Spence," said one of the men, a tall, noble-faced
+man, dressed as a clerk in Holy Orders.
+
+"Yes, Father Ripon," Spence said. "They have offered me the paper. It
+was one of poor Ommaney's last wishes. Of course, we were injured in our
+circulation by the fact that we were the first to publish the news of
+the great forgery. But in two years Ommaney had brought the paper to the
+front again. He was wonderful, the first editor of his age.
+
+"I was there with Folliott Farmer and the doctors when he died. Fancy,
+it was the first time I had ever been in his flat, though we had worked
+together all these years! The simplest place you ever saw. Just a couple
+of rooms, where he slept all the daytime. No luxury, hardly even
+comfort. Ommaney had no existence apart from his work. He'd saved nearly
+all his very large salary for many years. I am an executor of his will.
+He left a legacy to Farmer, and to me also, and the rest to the
+Institute of Journalists. But I am persuaded that he did not care in the
+least what happened to his money. He never did. He wasn't mean in any
+way, but he worked all night and slept all day, and simply hadn't any
+use for money. A good-hearted man, a very brilliant editor, but utterly
+detached from any _personal_ contact with life."
+
+Father Ripon's keen face, still as eager and powerful as before, set
+into lines of thought.
+
+He sighed a little. "A modern product," he said at length. "A modern
+product, a sign of the times. Well, Spence, a power is entrusted to you
+now such as no priest can enjoy. I pray that your editorship of this
+great paper will be fine. Try to be fine always. I believe that the Holy
+Spirit will be with you."
+
+They rose up towards the moor again. "There's the church," said Spence,
+"where she lies buried. Gortre sees that the grave is kept beautiful
+with flowers. It was an odd impulse of yours, Father, to propose this
+visit."
+
+"I do odd things sometimes," said the priest, simply. "I thought that
+the sight of this poor woman's resting-place might remind you and me of
+what has passed, of what she did for the world--though no one knows it
+but our group of friends. I hope that it will remind us, remind you very
+solemnly, my friend, in your new responsibility, of what Christ means to
+the world. The shadows of the time of darkness, 'When it Was Dark'
+during the 'Horror of Great Darkness,' have gone from us. And this poor
+sister did this for her Saviour's sake."
+
+They stood by Gertrude Hunt's grave as they spoke.
+
+A slender copper cross rose above it, some six feet high.
+
+"I wonder how the poor girl managed it," said Spence at length; "her
+letter was wonderfully complete. Sir Michael--Lord Fencastle, I
+mean--showed it me some years ago. She was wonderfully adroit. I suppose
+Llwellyn had left papers about or something. But I do wonder how she did
+it."
+
+"That," said Father Ripon, "was what she would never tell anybody."
+
+"_Requiescat in pace_," said Spence.
+
+"In Paradise with Saint Mary of Magdala," the priest said softly.
+
+
+THE SECOND PICTURE
+
+_Quem Deus Vult Perdere._
+
+The chaplain of the county asylum stood by the castellated red brick
+lodge at the end of the asylum drive, talking to a group of young
+ladies.
+
+The drive, which stretched away nearly a quarter of a mile to the
+enormous buildings of the asylum, with their lofty towers and warm,
+florid architecture, was edged with rhododendrons and other shrubs.
+
+The gardens were beautifully kept. Everything was mathematically
+straight and clean, almost luxurious, indeed.
+
+The girls were three in number, young, fashionably dressed. They talked
+without ceasing in an empty-headed stream of girlish chatter.
+
+They were the daughters of a great ironfounder in the district, and
+would each have a hundred thousand pounds.
+
+The chaplain was showing them over the asylum.
+
+"How sweet of you, Mr. Pritchard, to show us everything!" said one of
+the girls. "It's awfully thrilling. I suppose we shall be quite safe
+from the violent ones?"
+
+"Oh, yes," said the chaplain, "you will only see those from a distance;
+we keep them well locked up, I assure you."
+
+The girls laughed with him.
+
+The party went laughing through the long, spotless corridors, peeping
+into the bright, airy living-rooms, where bodies without brains were
+mumbling and singing to each other.
+
+The imbecile who moved vacantly with slobbering lip, the dementia
+patient, the log-like, general paralytic--"G. P."--_things_ which must
+be fed, the barred and dangerous maniac, they saw them all with pleasant
+thrills of horror, disgust, and sometimes with laughter.
+
+"Oh, Grace, _do_ look at that funny little fat one in the corner--the
+one with his tongue hanging out! Isn't he _weird_?"
+
+"There's one actually _reading_! He _must_ be only pretending!"
+
+A young doctor joined them--a handsome Scotchman with pleasant manners.
+
+For a time the lunatics were forgotten.
+
+"Well, now, have we seen _all_, Doctor Steward?" one of the girls said.
+"All the worst cases? It's really quite a new sensation, you know, and I
+always go in for new sensations."
+
+"Did ye show the young leddies Schuabe?" said the doctor to the
+chaplain.
+
+"Bless my soul!" he replied, "I must be going mad myself. I'd quite
+forgotten to show you Schuabe."
+
+"Who is Schuabe?" said the youngest of the sisters, a girl just fresh
+from school at Saint Leonards.
+
+"Oh, _Maisie_!" said the eldest. "Surely you remember. Why, it's only
+five years ago. He was the Manchester millionaire who went mad after
+trying to blow up the tomb of Christ. I think that was it. It was in all
+the papers. A young clergyman found out what he'd been trying to do, and
+then he went mad--this Schuabe creature, I mean, not the clergyman."
+
+"Every one likes to have a look at this patient," said the doctor. "He
+has a little sleeping-room of his own and a special attendant. His money
+was all confiscated by order of the Government, but they allow two
+hundred a year for him. Otherwise he would be among the paupers."
+
+The girls giggled with pleasurable anticipation.
+
+The doctor unlocked a door. The party entered a fairly large room,
+simply furnished. In an arm-chair a uniformed attendant was sitting,
+reading a sporting paper.
+
+The man sprang up and saluted as he heard the door open.
+
+On a bed lay the idiot. He had grown very fat and looked healthy. The
+features were all coarsened, but the hair retained its colour of dark
+red.
+
+He was sleeping.
+
+"Now, Miss Clegg, ye'd never think that was the fellow that made such a
+stir in the world but five years since. But there he lies. He always
+eats as much as he can, and goes to sleep after his meal. He's waking up
+now, sir. Here, Mr. Schuabe, some ladies have come to see you."
+
+_It_ got up with a foolish grin and began some ungainly capers.
+
+"Thank you _so_ much, Mr. Pritchard," the girls said as they left the
+building. "We've enjoyed ourselves so much."
+
+"I liked the little man with his tongue hanging out the best," said one.
+
+"Oh, Mabel, you've _no_ sense of humour! That Schuabe creature was the
+funniest of _all_!"
+
+
+THE THIRD PICTURE
+
+A Sunday evensong. The grim old Lancashire church of Walktown is full of
+people. The galleries are crowded, every seat in the aisles below is
+packed.
+
+This night, Easter night, the church looks less forbidding. The harsh
+note is gone, something of the supreme joy of Holy Easter has driven it
+away.
+
+Old Mr. Byars sits in his stall. He is tired by the long, happy day, and
+as the choir sings the last verse of the hymn before the sermon he sits
+down.
+
+The delicate, intellectual face is a little pinched and transparent. Age
+has come, but it is to this faithful priest but as the rare bloom upon
+the fruits of peace and quiet.
+
+How the thunderous voices peal in exultation!
+
+Alleluia!
+
+Christ is risen! The old man turned his head. His eyes were full of
+happy tears. He saw his daughter, a young and noble matron now, standing
+in a pew close to the chancel steps. He heard her pure voice, full of
+triumph. Christ is risen!
+
+From his oak chair behind the altar rails Dean Gortre came down towards
+the pulpit.
+
+Young still--strangely young for the dignity which they had pressed on
+him for two years before he would accept it--Basil ascended the steps.
+
+Christ is risen!
+
+The organ crashed; there was silence.
+
+All the lights in the church were suddenly lowered to half their height.
+
+The two candles in the pulpit shone brightly on the preacher's face.
+
+They all saw that it was filled with holy fire.
+
+Christ is risen!
+
+     "IF CHRIST BE NOT RISEN YOUR FAITH IS VAIN"
+
+The church was absolutely still as the words of the text rang out into
+it.
+
+The people were thinking humbly, with contrite hearts, of the shame five
+years ago.
+
+     "Would that our imagination, under the conduct of Christian faith,
+     could even faintly realise the scene when the Human Soul of Our
+     Lord came with myriads of attendant angels to the grave of Joseph,
+     to claim the Body that had hung upon the cross.
+
+     "To-night, with the promise and warrant of our own resurrection
+     that His has given us, our thoughts involuntarily turn to those we
+     call the dead. We feel that this Easter is for them also an
+     occasion of rejoicing, and that the happiness of the earthly Church
+     is shared by the loving and beloved choir behind the veil.
+
+     "Christ is risen! Away with the illusions which may have kept us
+     from Him. Let us also arise and live. For, as the spouse sings in
+     the Canticles, 'The winter is past, ... the time of the singing of
+     birds is come; ... arise, my love, my fair one, and come away!'"
+
+Christ is risen!
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] This article has already been seen in the preceding chapter.
+
+[2] This particular instance of the Nurié woman is _not_ all fiction. An
+incident much resembling it actually occurred to a well-known writer on
+the intimate life of Eastern peoples. For the purposes of the narrative
+the _locale_ has been changed from the Jaffa Road--where the event took
+place--to Jerusalem itself.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+     _A Selection from the Catalogue of_
+
+     G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+
+     Complete Catalogues sent on application
+
+
+
+
+     _Bound to excite a great deal of favorable comment_
+
+     A Lost Cause
+
+     _By_
+
+     Guy Thorne
+     Author of "When It Was Dark."
+
+     Crown Octavo----$1.50
+
+     Mr. Thorne, the author of that much-discussed religious novel, _When
+     It Was Dark_, which has become the theme of hundreds of sermons, and
+     has received the highest commendation in the secular press as well
+     as in the religious publications, has written another powerful book
+     which also deals with present-day aspects of the Christian religion.
+     The new story is marked by the same dramatic and emotional strength
+     which characterized his earlier work. The special theme deals with
+     certain practices which have caused dissension in the Church, and
+     the influence of ardent religious convictions on character and
+     conduct. Written in all sincerity, the book can hardly fail to
+     arouse wide and varied attention and is destined to take its place
+     as one of the most interest-compelling works of fiction in recent
+     years.
+
+     New York--G. P. Putnam's Sons--London
+
+
+
+
+     "Something distinctly out of the common, well conceived, vividly
+     told, and stirring from start to finish."--_London Telegraph._
+
+     The Scarlet Pimpernel
+
+     By Baroness Orczy
+     _Author of "The Emperor's Candlesticks," etc._
+
+     A dramatic romance of the French Revolution and the Émigré Nobles.
+     The "Scarlet Pimpernel" was the chief of a daring band of young
+     Englishmen leagued together to rescue members of the French
+     nobility from the Terrorists of France. The identity of the
+     brilliant and resourceful leader is sacredly guarded by his
+     followers and eagerly sought by the agents of the French
+     Revolutionary Government. Scenes of intrigue, danger, and devotion,
+     follow close one upon another. The heroine is a charming, fearless
+     woman who in the end shares the honors with the "Scarlet
+     Pimpernel." In a stage version prepared by the author _The Scarlet
+     Pimpernel_ was one of the dramatic successes of the last London
+     season, Mr. Fred Terry and Miss Julia Neilson acting the leading
+     rôles.
+
+     _Crown 8vo, with Illustrations from Photographs of the Play, $1.50_
+
+     _New York_ ~ G. P. Putnam's Sons ~ _London_
+
+
+
+
+     _A Fascinating Romance_
+
+     Love Alone is Lord
+
+     _By_ F. Frankfort Moore
+     _Author of "The Jessamy Bride," etc._
+
+     This latest story by the author of _The Jessamy Bride_ has for its
+     theme the only really ideal love affair in the romantic life of
+     Lord Byron. The story opens during the poet's boyhood and tells of
+     his early devotion to his cousin, Mary Chaworth. Mr. Moore has
+     followed history very closely, and his descriptions of London
+     society when Byron was the rage are as accurate as they are
+     dramatic. Lady Caroline Lamb figures prominently in the story, but
+     the heroine continues to be Byron's early love, Mary Chaworth. His
+     attachment for his cousin was the strongest and most enduring of
+     his life, and it failed of realization only by the narrowest of
+     chances.
+
+     _Crown 8vo, $1.50_
+
+     G. P. Putnam's Sons
+
+     _New York_     _London_
+
+
+
+
+     "The cleverest work of the kind written in many years."--_Rochester
+     Herald._
+
+     OUR BEST SOCIETY
+
+     A Novel Dealing with the Life of the Rich in New York
+
+     By JOHN D. BARRY
+     Author of "The Congressman's Wife," "Mademoiselle Blanche," "A
+     Daughter of Thespis," etc.
+
+     Now in its Second Edition. Crown Octavo. Cloth, $1.50.
+
+     It is one of the most interesting descriptions of modern society
+     since "The Breadwinners," supposed to be written by John Hay. A
+     witty and cleverly drawn picture, as sure in its touch and as
+     effective in its results as a Gibson drawing.
+         _Town and Country._
+
+     The book will attract the "initiated" because the author has caught
+     the real key-note.
+         _The Independent._
+
+     Exceedingly clever in many ways. Although it is a really brilliant
+     satire, there is no bitterness. On the contrary, an air of almost
+     blissful good-humor pervades every page.
+         _St. Paul Pioneer-Press._
+
+     G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+
+     New York     London
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
+
+Punctuation has been silently corrected where there are obvious errors.
+
+Words with hyphens and accents have been standardised.
+
+Italics are indicated by underscores _like this_.
+
+The following corrections of typographical errors have been made:
+
+    "refined and, artistic" to "refined and artistic" (p.3)
+
+    "tolerent" to tolerant" (p. 29)
+
+    "it forget to jeer" to "it forgot to jeer" (p. 49)
+
+    "Salonika cigarrette" to "Salonika cigarette" (p. 53)
+
+    "forty thousands pounds" to "forty thousand pounds" (p. 67)
+
+    "volumn" to "volume" (p. 72)
+
+    "lines cames out upon it" to "lines came out upon it" (p. 90)
+
+    "weathly banker" to "wealthy banker" (p. 107)
+
+    "Dieppe its true significance" to "Dieppe--its true significance"
+    (p. 108)
+
+    "become more resonant" to "became more resonant" (p. 112)
+
+    "Schaube" to "Schuabe" (p. 193)
+
+    "Sanhedrim of the great" to "Sanhedrin of the great" (p. 235)
+
+    "Neirsteiner" to "Niersteiner" (p. 242)
+
+    "in amazemen" to "in amazement" (p. 261)
+
+    "Sir Ulang Pass" to "Sri Ulang Pass" (p. 293)
+
+    "rising but of the sea" to "rising out of the sea" (p. 323)
+
+    "Exellency" to "Excellency" (p. 350)
+
+    "the lastest visitor" to "the last visitor" (p. 384)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of When It Was Dark, by Guy Thorne
+
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diff --git a/39666-0.zip b/39666-0.zip
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of When It Was Dark, by Guy Thorne
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license
+
+
+Title: When It Was Dark
+       The Story of a Great Conspiracy
+
+Author: Guy Thorne
+
+Release Date: May 10, 2012 [EBook #39666]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN IT WAS DARK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Mark C. Orton, Margo Romberg and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+book was produced from scanned images of public domain
+material from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+     ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+     +                                      +
+     +           _By GUY THORNE_            +
+     +                                      +
+     +           When It Was Dark           +
+     +   The Story of a Great Conspiracy    +
+     +  12�. (By mail, $1.35) _Net_, $1.20  +
+     +                                      +
+     +             A Lost Cause             +
+     +              12� $1.50               +
+     +                                      +
+     +          G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS         +
+     +         _New York and London_        +
+     +                                      +
+     ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+
+
+
+
+    WHEN IT WAS DARK
+
+
+
+
+    When It Was Dark
+
+    The Story of a Great Conspiracy
+
+    By
+
+    Guy Thorne
+
+    G. P. Putnam's Sons
+    New York and London
+    The Knickerbocker Press
+    1906
+
+
+
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1904
+    BY
+    G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+
+    Published, January, 1904
+    Reprinted, May, 1904; September, 1904
+    December, 1904; September, 1905
+    October, 1905; November, 1905; January, 1906
+
+    The Knickerbocker Press, New York
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+BOOK I.
+
+CHAPTER                                              PAGE
+
+   I. An Incident by Way of Prologue                   1
+
+  II. In the Vicar's Study                             6
+
+ III. "I Think he is a Good Man"                      23
+
+  IV. The Smoke Cloud at Dawn                         33
+
+   V. A Lost Soul                                     45
+
+  VI. The Whisper                                     56
+
+ VII. Last Words at Walktown                          69
+
+VIII. A Dinner at the Pannier d'Or                    77
+
+  IX. Inauguration                                    95
+
+   X. The Resurrection Sermon                        107
+
+  XI. "Neither do I Condemn Thee"                    116
+
+ XII. Powers of Good and Evil                        126
+
+
+BOOK II.
+
+   I. While London was Sleeping                      141
+
+  II. Avoiding the Flower Pattern on the Carpet      165
+
+ III. "I, Joseph"                                    178
+
+  IV. The Domestic Chaplain's Testimony              184
+
+   V. Deus, Deus Meus, Quare Dereliquisti!           194
+
+  VI. Harness the Horses; and Get up, ye Horsemen,
+      and Stand forth with your Helmets, Furbish
+      the Spears, and Put on the Brigandines--Jer.
+      xlvi: 4                                        205
+
+ VII. The Hour of Chaos                              212
+
+VIII. The First Links                                225
+
+  IX. Particular Instances, Contrasting the Old
+      Lady and the Special Correspondent             233
+
+   X. The Triumph of Sir Robert Llwellyn             245
+
+  XI. Progress                                       256
+
+ XII. A Soul alone on the Sea-Shore                  262
+
+
+BOOK III.
+
+   I. What it Meant to the World's Women             271
+
+  II. Cyril Hands Redux                              283
+
+ III. All ye Inhabitants of the World, and
+      Dwellers on the Earth, See ye, when He
+      Lifteth up an Ensign on the Mountains--Is.
+      xviii: 3                                       289
+
+  IV. A Luncheon Party                               302
+
+   V. By the Tower of Hippicus                       322
+
+  VI. Under the Eastern Stars: towards Gerizim       342
+
+ VII. The Last Meeting                               356
+
+VIII. Death Coming with One Grace                    364
+
+  IX. At Walktown Again                              376
+
+      Epilogue                                       385
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+"The mystery of iniquity doth already work."
+
+
+
+
+WHEN IT WAS DARK
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+AN INCIDENT BY WAY OF PROLOGUE
+
+
+Mr. Hinchcliffe, the sexton, looked up as Mr. Philemon, the clerk,
+unlocked the great gates of open ironwork which led into the street.
+Hinchcliffe was cutting the lettering on a tombstone, supported by heavy
+wooden trestles, under a little shed close to the vestry door of the
+church.
+
+The clerk, a small, rotund man, clerical in aspect, and wearing a round
+felt hat, pulled out a large, old-fashioned watch. "Time for the bell,
+William," he said.
+
+The parish church was a large building in sham perpendicular. It stood
+in a very central position on the Manchester main road, rising amid a
+bare triangle of flat gravestones, and separated from the street
+pavement only by high iron railings.
+
+It was about half-past four on a dull autumn afternoon. The trams swung
+ringing down the black, muddy road, and the long procession of great
+two-wheeled carts, painted vermilion, carried coal from the collieries
+six miles away to the great mills and factories of Salford.
+
+The two men went into the church, and soon the tolling of a deep-voiced
+bell, high up in the pall of smoke which lay over the houses, beat out
+in regular and melancholy sound.
+
+Inside the building the noise of the traffic sank into a long, unceasing
+note like the _bourdon_ note of a distant organ.
+
+Hinchcliffe tolled the bell in the dim, ugly vestibule with his foot in
+a loop in the rope, sitting on the chest which held the dozen loaves
+which were given away every Sunday to the old women in the free seats.
+
+The clerk opened the green baize swing-doors and strode up the aisle
+towards the vestry, waking mournful echoes as the nails in his boots
+struck the tiled floor.
+
+Saint Thomas's Church, the mother church of Walktown, was probably the
+ugliest church in Lancashire. The heavy galleries, the drab walls, the
+terrible gloom of the vast structure, all spoke eloquently of a chilly,
+dour Christianity, a grudging and suspicious Sunday religion which
+animated its congregation.
+
+In the long rows of cushioned seats, each labelled with the name of the
+person who rented it, Sunday by Sunday the moderately prosperous and
+wholly vulgar Lancashire people sat for two hours. During the prayers
+they leaned forward in easy and comfortable concession to convention.
+Few ever knelt. During the hymn times they stood up in their places
+listening carefully to a fine choir of men and women--a choir which,
+despite its vocal excellence, was only allowed to perform the most
+stodgy and commonplace evangelical music.
+
+When the incumbent preached he was heard with the jealous watchfulness
+which often assails an educated man. The renters of the pews desired a
+Low Church aspect of doctrine and were intelligent to detect any
+divergence from it.
+
+The colour of the building was sombre. The brick-red and styx-like grey
+of the flooring, the lifeless chocolate front of the galleries, the
+large and ugly windows filled with glass which was the colour of a
+ginger-beer bottle, had all a definite quality of cheerless vulgarity.
+
+Philemon came out of the vestry door with a lighted taper. He lit two or
+three jets of the corona over the reading-desk. Then he sat down in a
+front pew close to the chancel steps and waited.
+
+The bell outside stopped suddenly, and a tall young man in a black
+Inverness cape walked hurriedly up the side aisle under the gallery
+towards the vestry.
+
+In less than a minute he came out again in surplice, stole, and
+hood,--the stole and hood were always worn at Walktown,--went to the
+reading-desk, and began to say Evensong in a level, resonant voice.
+
+At the end of each psalm Mr. Philemon recited the doxology with
+thunderous assertion and capped each prayer with an echoing "Amen."
+
+The curate, Basil Gortre, was a young fellow with a strong, impressive
+face. His eyes had the clearness of youth and looked out steadily on the
+world under his black hair. His face was of that type men call a
+"thoroughly honest" face, but, unlike the generality of such faces, it
+was neither stubborn nor stupid. The clean-shaven jaw was full of power,
+the mouth was refined and artistic, without being either sensual or
+weak.
+
+During the Creed he turned towards the east, and the clerk's
+uncompromising voice became louder and more acid as he noticed the
+action; and when the clergyman, almost imperceptibly, made the sign of
+the Cross at the words "The resurrection of the body," the old man gave
+a loud snort of disapprobation.
+
+In deference to the congregation on Sundays, and at the wish of his
+vicar, Gortre omitted these simple signs of reverence. But alone, at
+Matins or Evensong, he followed his usual habit.
+
+During the last low prayers, as dusk crept into the great church, and
+the clank and bells of the trams outside seemed to be more remote, a
+part, indeed, of that visible but not symbolic ugliness which the gloom
+was hiding, a note of fervour crept into the young man's praying which
+had only been latent there before.
+
+He was reading the third collect when the few gas jets above his head
+began to whistle, burnt blue for a few seconds, and then faded out with
+three or four faint pops.
+
+Some air had got into the pipes. Old Mr. Philemon rose noisily from his
+knees, and shuffled off to the vestry coughing and spluttering. Outside,
+with startling suddenness, a piano organ burst into a gay, strident
+melody. After a few bars the music stopped with a jerk. A police
+constable had spoken to the organ-grinder and moved him on.
+
+Gortre's voice went on in a deep, fervent monotone, unmoved by the
+darkness or the dissonance--
+
+     "_Lighten our darkness, we beseech Thee, O Lord; and by Thy great
+     mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night; for the
+     love of Thy only Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ._"
+
+The faithful, quiet voice, enduring through the dark, was a
+foreshadowing of the great cloud which was breaking over the world, big
+with disaster, imminent with gloom. It foreshadowed the divinely aided
+continuance of Truth through such a terror as men had never known
+before.
+
+It meant many things, that firm and beautiful voice--hope in the darkest
+hour for thousands of dying souls, a noble woman's happiness in time of
+dire stress and evil temptations and a death worse than the death Judas
+died--for Mr. Schuabe the millionaire and Robert Llwellyn the scholar,
+taking tea together in the Athen�um Club three hundred miles away in
+London.
+
+     "--_by Thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of
+     this night_."
+
+Mr. Philemon returned with a taper, an old and wrinkled acolyte, in time
+with his loud and sonorous AMEN.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+IN THE VICAR'S STUDY
+
+
+The vicarage of Walktown was a new and commodious house with tall
+chimneys, pointed windows, and a roof of red tiles.
+
+It was more than a mile from the church, in the residential quarter of
+the town. Here were no shops and little traffic. The solid houses of red
+brick stood in their own rather dingy grounds, where, though the grass
+was never really green, and spring came in a veil of smoky vapour when
+the wind blew from the town, there was yet a rural suggestion.
+
+The trees rose from neatly kept lawns, the gravel sweeps of the drives
+were carefully tended, and there was distant colour in the elaborate
+conservatories and palm-houses which were to be seen everywhere.
+
+Mr. Pryde, the great Manchester solicitor, had his beautiful modern
+house here. Sir John Neele, the wealthy manufacturer of disinfectants,
+lived close by, and a large proportion of the well-to-do Manchester
+merchants were settled round about.
+
+Not all of them were parishioners of Mr. Byars, the vicar of Walktown.
+Many attended the more fashionable church of Pendleborough, a mile away
+in what answered to the "country"; others were leaders in the Dissenting
+and especially the Unitarian worlds.
+
+Walktown was a stronghold of the Unitarians. The wealthy Jews of two
+generations back, men who made vast fortunes in the black valley of the
+Irwell, had chosen Walktown to dwell in. Their grandsons had found it
+more politic to abjure their ancient faith. A few had become
+Christians,--at least in name, inasmuch as they rented pews at St.
+Thomas's,--but others had compromised by embracing a faith, or rather a
+dogma, which is simply Judaism without its ritual and ceremonial
+obligations. The Baumanns, the Hildersheimers, the Steinhardts,
+flourished in Walktown.
+
+It was people of this class who supported the magnificent concerts in
+the Free Trade Hall at Manchester, who bought the pictures and read the
+books. They had brought an alien culture to the neighbourhood. The vicar
+had two strong elements to contend with,--for his parochial life was all
+contention,--on the one hand the Lancashire natives, on the other the
+wealthy Jewish families.
+
+The first were hard, uncultured people, hating everything that had not
+its origin and end in commerce. They disliked Mr. Byars because he was a
+gentleman, because he was educated, and because--so they considered--the
+renting of the pews in his church gave them the right to imagine that he
+was in some sense a paid servant of theirs.
+
+The second class of parishioners were less Philistine, certainly, but
+even more hopeless from the parish priest's point of view. In their
+luxurious houses they lived an easy, selfish, and sensual life, beyond
+his reach, surrounded by a wall of indifferentism, and contemptuous of
+all that was not tangible and material. At times the rector and the
+curate confessed to each other that these people seemed more utterly
+lost than any others with whom the work of the Church brought them in
+contact.
+
+Mr. Byars was a widower with one son, now at Oxford, and one daughter,
+Helena, who was engaged to Basil Gortre, the curate.
+
+About six o'clock the vicar sat in his study with a pile of letters
+before him. The room was a comfortable, bookish place, panelled in pitch
+pine where the walls were not covered with shelves of theological and
+philosophical works.
+
+The arm-chairs were not new, but they invited repose; the large
+engraving over the pipe-littered mantel was a fine autotype of Giacomo's
+_St. Emilia_. The room was brightly lit with electric light.
+
+Mr. Byars was a man of medium height, bald, his fine, domed forehead
+adding to his apparent age, and wore a pointed grey beard and moustache.
+He was an epitome of the room around him.
+
+The volumes on his shelves were no ancient and musty tomes, but
+represented the latest and newest additions to theological thought.
+
+Lathom and Edersheim stood together with Renan's _Vie de J�sus_ and
+Clermont-Ganneau's _Recueil d'Arch. Orient_, and Westcott guarded them
+all.
+
+The ivory crucifix which stood on the writing-table completed the
+impression of the man.
+
+Ambrose Byars at forty-five was thoroughly acquainted with modern
+thought and literature. His scholarship was tempered with the wisdom of
+an active and clear-headed man of the world. His life and habits were
+simple but unbigoted, and his broad-mindedness never obscured his
+unalterable convictions. He lived, as he conceived it his duty to live
+in his time and place, in thorough human and intellectual correspondence
+with his environment, but one thought, one absolute certainty informed
+his life.
+
+As year by year his knowledge grew greater, and the scientific criticism
+of the Scriptures undermined the faith of weaker and less richly
+endowed minds, he only found in each discovery a more vivid proof of the
+truth of the Incarnation and the Resurrection.
+
+It was his habit in discussions to reconcile all apparently conflicting
+antichristian statements and weave them into the fabric of his
+convictions. He held that, even scientifically, historically, and
+materially, the evidence for the Resurrection was too strong to be ever
+overthrown. And beyond these intellectual evidences he knew that Christ
+must have risen from the dead, because he himself had found Christ and
+was found in Him.
+
+His attitude was a careful one with all its conciseness. An anecdote
+illustrates this.
+
+One day, when walking home from a meeting of the School Board, of which
+he was a member, he had met a parishioner named Baxter, the proprietor
+of a small engineering work in the district. The man, who never came to
+church, on what he called "principle," but spent his Sundays in bed with
+a sporting paper, was one of those half-educated people who condemn
+Christianity by ridiculing the Old Testament stories.
+
+They walked together, Baxter quoting the _Origin of Species_, which he
+knew from a cheap epitomised handbook.
+
+"Do you really think, Mr. Byars," he had said, "do you really believe,
+after Darwin's discovery, that we were made by a sort of conjuring trick
+by a Supreme Power? Seven days of cooking, so to speak, and then a
+world! Why, it's childish to expect thinking people to believe it. We
+are simply evolved by scientific evolution out of the prim�val
+protoplasm."
+
+"Very possibly," said the vicar; "and who made the protoplasm, Mr.
+Baxter?"
+
+The man was silent for a minute. "Then, Mr. Byars," he said at length,
+"you do not believe the Old Testament--the Adam and Eve part, for
+instance. You do not believe the Book on which your creed is founded."
+
+"There are such things as allegories," he had answered. "The untutored
+brain must be taught the truth in such a way as it can receive it."
+
+The vicar lit his pipe and began to open his letters with a slight sigh.
+Of all men, he sometimes felt, he was the least possible one for
+Walktown. For twelve years he had worked there, and he seemed to make
+little headway. He longed for an educated congregation. Here methods too
+vulgar for his temperament seemed to be the only ones.
+
+The letters were all from applicants for the curacy which Gortre's
+impending departure would shortly leave vacant.
+
+"It will be a terrible wrench to lose Basil," he said to himself; "but
+it must be. He will have his chance and be far happier in London, in
+more congenial environment. He would never be a great success in
+Walktown. He has tried nobly, but the people won't understand him. They
+would never like him; he's too much of a gentleman. How they all hate
+breeding in Walktown! There is nothing for it, I can see. I must get an
+inferior man this time. An inferior man will go down with them better
+here. I only hope he will be a really good fellow. If he isn't, it will
+be Jerrold over again--vulgar cabals against me, and all the women in
+the place quarrelling and taking sides."
+
+He read letter after letter, and saw, with a humorous shrug of disgust,
+that he would have little difficulty in engaging the "inferior" man of
+his thoughts.
+
+The best men would not come to the North. Men of family with decent
+degrees, Oxford men, Cambridge men, accustomed to decent society and
+intellectual friends, knew far too much to accept a title in the
+Manchester district.
+
+The applications were numerous enough, but obviously from second-rate
+men, or at any rate from men who appeared to be so at first glance.
+
+A Durham graduate, 40, with five children, begged earnestly for the �120
+a year which was all Mr. Byars could offer. A few young men from
+theological colleges wanting titles, a Dublin B.A., announcing himself
+as "thoroughly Protestant in views"--they were a weary lot. A
+non-collegiate student from Oxford with a second class in Theology, a
+Manchester Grammar-School boy, whose father lived at Higher Broughton,
+seemed to promise the best. He would be able to get on with the people,
+probably. "I suppose I must have him, accent and all," the vicar said
+with a sigh, "though I suppose it's prejudice to dislike the lessons
+read with the Lancashire broad 'a' and short 'o.' St. Paul probably
+spoke with a terrible local twang! and yet, I don't know, he was too
+great to be vulgar; one doesn't like to think that----"
+
+Mr. Byars was certainly a difficult person for his congregation to
+appreciate.
+
+He picked up the letter and was re-reading it when the door opened and
+his daughter came in.
+
+Helena Byars was a tall girl, largely made and yet slender. Her hair was
+luxuriant and of a traditional "heroine" gold. She was dressed with a
+certain richness, though soberly enough, a style which, with its slight
+hint of austerity, accentuated a quiet and delicate charm. So one felt
+on meeting her for the first time. Sweet-faced she was and with an
+underlying seriousness even in her times of laughter. Her mouth was
+rather large, her nose straight and beautifully chiselled. The eyes were
+placid, intelligent, but without keenness. There was an almost matronly
+dignity about her quiet and yet decided manner.
+
+The vicar looked up at her with a smile, thinking how like her mother
+the girl was--that grave and gracious lady who looked out of the picture
+by the door, St. Cecilia in form and face. "Eh, but Helena she favours
+her mother," Hinchcliffe, the sexton, had said with the frank
+familiarity of the Lancashire workman soon after Mrs. Byars's funeral
+four years ago.
+
+"I've brought _Punch_, father," she said, "it's just come. Leave your
+work now and enjoy yourself for half an hour before dinner. Basil will
+be here by the time you're finished."
+
+She stirred the fire into a bright glow, and, singing softly to herself,
+left the study and went into the dining-room to see that the table
+looked inviting for the coming meal.
+
+About seven o'clock Gortre arrived, and soon afterwards the three sat
+down to dine. It was a simple meal, some fish, cold beef, and a pudding,
+with a bottle of beer for the curate and a glass of claret for the
+vicar. The housemaid did not wait upon them, for they found the meal
+more intimate and enjoyable without her.
+
+"I've got some news," said Gortre. "The great question of domicile is
+settled. You know there is no room in the clergy-house at St. Mary's.
+Moreover, Father Ripon thought it well that I should live outside. He
+wanted one of the assistant clergy, at least, to be in constant touch
+with lay influences, he said when I saw him."
+
+"What have you arranged, dear?" said Helena.
+
+"Something very satisfactory, I think," he answered. "My first thought
+was to take ordinary rooms in Bloomsbury. It would be near St. Mary's
+and the schools. Then I thought of chambers in one of the Inns of Court.
+At any rate I wrote to Harold Spence to ask his advice. He was at
+Merton with me, you know, lived on the same staircase in 'Stubbins,' and
+is just one of the best fellows in the world. We haven't corresponded
+much during the last three years, but I knew a letter to the New Oxford
+and Cambridge would always find him. So I wrote up. He's been University
+Extension lecturing for a time, you know, and writing too. Now he tells
+me that he is writing leaders for the _Daily Wire_ and doing very well.
+I'll read you what he says."
+
+He took a letter from his pocket, glanced down it for the paragraph he
+wanted, and began to read:
+
+      ... "--and I am delighted to hear that you have at last made up
+     your mind to leave the North country and have accepted this London
+     curacy. I asked Marsh, our ecclesiastical editor, about St. Mary's
+     last night. He tells me that it is a centre of very important
+     Church work, and has some political and social influence. Of all
+     the 'ritualistic' parishes--I use the word as a convenient
+     label--it is thought to be the sanest. Here you will have a real
+     chance. I know something of the North, and came in contact with all
+     sorts and conditions of people when I was lecturing on the French
+     Revolution round Liverpool and Manchester for the Extension. They
+     are not the people for you to succeed with, either socially or from
+     a clergyman's point of view--at least, that's my opinion, old man.
+     You ask me about rooms. I have a proposal to make to you in this
+     regard. I am now living in Lincoln's Inn with a man named
+     Hands--Cyril Hands. You may know his name. He is a great
+     arch�ologist, was a young Cambridge professor. For three years now
+     he has been working for The Palestine Exploring Society. He is in
+     charge of all the excavations now proceeding near Jerusalem, and
+     constantly making new and valuable Biblical discoveries."
+
+The vicar broke in upon the reading. "Hands!" he said; "a most
+distinguished man! His work is daily adding to our knowledge in a
+marvellous way. He has just recently discovered some important
+inscriptions at El-Edham�yeh--Jeremiah's grotto, you know, the place
+which is thought may be Golgotha, you know. But go on, I'm sorry to
+interrupt."
+
+Gortre continued:
+
+     "Hands is only at home for three months in the year, when he comes
+     to the annual meeting of the Society and recuperates at the
+     seaside. His rooms, however, are always kept for him. The chambers
+     we have are old-fashioned but very large. There are three big
+     bedrooms, a huge sitting-room, two smaller rooms and a sort of
+     kitchen, all inside the one oak. I have a bedroom and one small
+     room where I write. Hands has only one bedroom and uses the big
+     general room. Now if you care to come and take up your abode in the
+     Inn with us, I can only say you will be heartily welcome. Your
+     share of the expenses would be less than if you lived alone in
+     rooms as you propose, and you would be far more comfortable. You
+     could have your study to work in. Our laundress is nearly always
+     about, and there is altogether a pleasant suggestion of Oxford and
+     the old days in the life we lead. Of course I need hardly tell you
+     that we are very quiet and quite untroubled by any of the rowdy
+     people, all of whom live away from our court altogether. You would
+     be only five minutes' walk from St. Mary's. What do you think of
+     the idea? Let me know and I will give you all further details. I
+     hope you will decide on joining us. I should find it most
+     pleasant.--Ever yours,
+
+          "HAROLD MASTERMAN SPENCE."
+
+"An extremely genial letter," said the vicar. "I suppose you'll accept,
+Basil? It will be pleasant to be with friends like that."
+
+"Isn't it just a little, well, bachelor?" said Helena rather nervously.
+
+Gortre smiled at the question.
+
+"No, dear," he said. "I don't think you need be afraid. I know the sort
+of visions you have. The sort of thing in _Pendennis_, isn't it? The boy
+sent out for beer to the nearest public-house, and breakfast at twelve
+in the morning, cooked in the sitting-room. You don't know Harold. He is
+quite _bourgeois_ in his habits, despite his intellect, hates a muddle,
+always dresses extremely well, and goes to church like any married man.
+He was a great friend of the Pusey House people at Oxford."
+
+"The days when you couldn't be a genius without being dirty are gone,"
+said the vicar. "I am glad of it. I was staying at St. Ives last summer,
+where there is quite an artistic settlement. All the painters carried
+golf-clubs and looked like professional athletes. They drink Bohea in
+Bohemia now."
+
+Gortre talked a little about his plans for the future. He had a
+sympathetic audience. During the four years of his curacy at Walktown he
+had become very dear to Mr. Byars. He had arrived in the North from
+Oxford, after a year at Litchfield Theological College, just about the
+time that Mrs. Byars had died. His help and sympathy at such a time had
+begun a friendship with his vicar that had been firmly cemented as the
+time went on, and had finally culminated in his engagement to Helena. He
+had been the vicar's sole intellectual companion all this time, and his
+loss would be irreparable. But both men felt that his departure was
+inevitable. The younger man's powers were stifled and confined in the
+atmosphere of the place. He had private means of his own, and belonged
+to an old West-country family, and, try as he would he failed to
+identify himself socially with the Walktown people. His engagement to
+Helena Byars had increased his unpopularity. He would be far happier at
+St. Mary's in London, at the famous High Church, where he would find all
+those exterior accompaniments of religion to which he had been
+accustomed, and which, though he did not exalt the shadow into the
+substance, always made him happier when he was surrounded by them.
+
+He was to wait a year and then he would be married. There were no money
+obstacles in the way and no reason for further delay. Only the vicar
+looked forward with a sort of horror to his future loneliness, and tried
+to put the thought from him whenever it came.
+
+After dinner Helena left the two men to smoke alone in the study. There
+was a concert in the Town Hall to which she was going with Mrs. Pryde,
+the solicitor's wife, a neighbour. Her friend's carriage called for her
+about eight, and Gortre settled down for a long talk with the vicar on
+parochial affairs.
+
+They sat on each side of the dancing fire, with coffee on a table
+between them, quietly enjoying the after-dinner pipe, the best and
+finest of the five cardinal pipes of the day. It was a comfortable
+scene. The room was lighted only by a single electric reading-lamp with
+a green shade, and the firelight flickered and played over the dull gold
+and crimson of the books on the shelves, and threw red lights on the
+shining ivory of the sculptured Christ.
+
+"I daresay this North-country man will do all right," said the vicar.
+"He will be more popular than you, Basil."
+
+The young man sighed. "God knows I have tried hard enough to win their
+confidence," he said sadly, "but it was not to be. I _can't_ get in
+touch with them, vicar. They dislike my manners, my way of
+speaking--everything about me. Even the landlady of my rooms distrusts
+me because I decline to take tea with my evening chop, and charges me
+three shillings a week extra because I have what she calls 'late
+dinner'!"
+
+The vicar laughed. "At any rate," he said, "you have got hold of Leef,
+your landlord; he comes to church regularly now."
+
+"Oh, Leef illustrates more than any one else how impossible it is, for
+me, at any rate, to do much good. Last week he said to me, 'It's a fine
+thing, religion, when you've got it at last, Mr. Gortre. When I look
+back at my unregenerate years I wonder at myself. Religion tells me to
+give up certain things. It only 'armonises with the experience of any
+sensible man of my age. I don't want to drink too much, for instance. My
+health is capital, and I'm not such a fool as to spoil it. To think that
+all those years I never knew that religion was as easy as winking, and
+with a certainty of everlasting glory afterwards. I'll always back you
+up, Mr. Gortre, in saying that religion's the finest thing out.'"
+
+"Well, dear boy, you will be in another environment altogether soon.
+It's no use being discouraged. _Tot homines, quot sententi�_! We can't
+alter these things. The Essenes used to speak disrespectfully enough of
+'Ye men of Galilee,' no doubt. Sometimes I think I would rather have
+these stubborn people than those of the South, men as easy and _commode_
+as an old glove, and worth about as much. Have you seen the _Guardian_
+to-day?"
+
+"No, I haven't. I've been at the schools all the morning, visiting in
+Timperley Street till Evensong, home for a wash, and then here."
+
+"I see Schuabe is going to address a great meeting in the Free Trade
+Hall on the Education Bill."
+
+"Then he is at Mount Prospect?"
+
+"He arrived from London yesterday."
+
+The two men looked at each other in silence. Mr. Byars seemed ill at
+ease. His foot tapped the brass rail of the fender. Then, a sure sign of
+disturbance with him, he put down his pipe, which was nearly smoked
+away, and took a cigarette from a box on the table and smoked in short,
+quick puffs.
+
+Gortre's face became dark and gloomy. The light died out of it, the
+kindliness of expression, which was habitual, left his eyes.
+
+"We have never really told each other what we think of Schuabe and how
+we think of him, vicar," he said. "Let us have it out here and now while
+we are thinking of him and while we have the opportunity."
+
+"In a question of this sort," said Mr. Byars, "confidences are extremely
+dangerous as a rule, but between you and me it is different. It will
+clear our brains mutually. God forbid that you and I, in our profession
+as Christ's priests and our socio-political position as clerks in Holy
+Orders, should bear rancour against any one. But we are but human.
+Possibly our mutual confidence may help us both."
+
+There was a curious eagerness in his manner which was reflected by that
+of the other. Both were conscious of feelings ill in accord with their
+usual open and kindly attitude towards the world. Each was anxious to
+know if the other coincided with himself.
+
+Men are weak, and there is comfort in community.
+
+"From envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness--" said Gortre.
+
+"Good Lord deliver us," replied the vicar gravely.
+
+There was a tense silence for a time, only broken by the dropping of the
+coals in the grate. The vicar was the first to break it.
+
+"I'll sum up my personal impression of the man for and against," he
+said.
+
+Gortre nodded.
+
+"There can be no doubt whatever," said Mr. Byars, "that among all the
+great North-country millionaires--men of power and influence, I
+mean--Schuabe stands first and pre-eminent. His wealth is enormous to
+begin with. Then he is young--can hardly be forty yet, I should say. He
+belongs to the new generation. In Walktown he stands entirely alone.
+Then his brilliancy, his tremendous intellectual powers, are equalled by
+few men in England. His career at Oxford was marvellous, his political
+life, only just beginning as it is, seems to promise the very highest
+success. His private life, as far as we know--and everything about the
+man seems to point to an ascetic temperament and a refined habit--is
+without grossness or vice of any kind. In appearance he is one of the
+ten most striking-looking men in England. His manners are fascinating."
+
+Gortre laughed shortly, a mirthless, bitter laugh.
+
+"So far," he said, "you have drawn a picture which approaches the ideal
+of what a strong man should be. And I grant you every detail of it. But
+let me complete it. You will agree with me that mine also is true."
+
+His voice trembled a little. Half unconsciously his eyes wandered to the
+crucifix on the writing-table. In the red glow of the fire, which had
+now ceased to crackle and flame, the drooping figure on the cross showed
+distinct and clear in all its tremendous appeal to the hearts of
+mankind. Tears came into the young man's eyes, his face became drawn and
+pained. When he spoke, his voice was full of purpose and earnestness.
+
+"Yes," he said, with an unusual gesture of the hand, "Schuabe is all
+that you say. In a hard, godless, and material age he is an epitome of
+it. The curse of indifferentism is over the land. Men have forgotten
+that this world is but an inn, a sojourning place for a few hours. O
+fools and blind! The terror of death is always with them. But this man
+is far more than this--far, far more. To him has been given the eye to
+see, the heart to understand. _He, of all men living in England to-day,
+is the mailed, armed enemy of Our Lord._ No loud-mouthed atheist,
+sincere and blatant in his ignorance, no honest searcher after truth.
+All his great wealth, all his attainments, are forged into one devilish
+weapon. He is already, and will be in the future, the great enemy of
+Christianity. Oh, I have read his book! 'Even now there are many
+antichrists.' I have read his speeches in Parliament. I know his
+enormous influence over those unhappy people who call themselves
+'Secularists.' Like Diocletian, like Julian, _he hates Christ_. He is no
+longer a Jew. Judaism is nothing to him--one can reverence a Montefiore,
+admire an Adler. His attacks on the faith are something quite different
+to those of other men. As his skill is greater, so his intention is more
+evil. And yet how helpless are we who know! The mass of Christians--the
+lax, tolerant Christians--think he is a kind of John Morley. They praise
+his charities, his efforts for social amelioration. They quote, 'And God
+fulfils Himself in many ways.' I say again, O fools and blind! They do
+not know, they cannot see, this man as he is at heart, accursed and
+antichrist!" His voice dropped, tired with its passion and vehemence. He
+continued in a lower and more intimate vein:
+
+"Do you think I am a fanatic, vicar? Am I touched with monomania when I
+tell you that of late I have thought much upon the prophetic indications
+of the coming of 'the Man of Sin,' the antichrist in Holy Writ? Can it
+be, I have asked myself, as I watch the comet-like brilliance of this
+man's career, can it be that in my own lifetime and the lifetime of
+those I love, the veritable enemy of our Saviour is to appear? Is this
+man, this Jew, he of whom it is said in Jacob's words, 'Dan shall be a
+serpent by the way, an adder in the path'--the tribe of which _not one_
+was sealed?"
+
+"You are overwrought, Basil," said the elder man kindly. "You have let
+yourself dwell too much on this man and his influences. But I do not
+condemn you. I also have had my doubts and wonderings. The outside world
+would laugh at us and people who might be moved as we are at these
+things. But do we not live always with, and by help of, the Unseen? God
+alone knows the outcome of the trend of these antichristian influences,
+of which, I fear, Schuabe is the head. The Fathers are clear enough on
+the subject, and the learned men of medi�val times also. Let me read to
+you."
+
+He got up from his arm-chair, glad, it seemed, at opportunity of change
+and movement, and went to the book-shelves which lined the wall. His
+scholar's interest was aroused, his magnificent reading and knowledge of
+Christian history and beliefs engaged and active.
+
+He dipped into book after book, reading extracts from them here and
+there.
+
+"Listen. Marchantius says the ship of the Church will sink and be lost
+in the foam of infidelity, and be hidden in the blackness of that storm
+of desolation which shall arise at the coming of Antichrist. 'The sun
+shall be darkened and the stars shall fall from heaven.' He means, of
+course, the sun of faith, and that the stars, the great ecclesiastical
+dignitaries, shall fall into apostasy. But, he goes on to say, the
+Church will remain unwrecked, she will weather the storm and come forth
+'_beautiful as the moon, terrible as an army with banners_.'"
+
+His voice was eager and excited, his face was all alight with the
+scholar's eagerness, as he took down book after book with unerring
+instinct to illustrate his remarks.
+
+"Opinions as to the nature and personality of Antichrist have been very
+varied," he continued. "Some of the very early Christian writers say he
+will be a devil in a phantom body, others that he will be an incarnate
+demon, true man and true devil, in fearful and diabolic parody of the
+Incarnation of our Lord. There is a third view also. That is that he
+will be merely a desperately wicked man, acting upon diabolic
+inspirations, just as the saints act upon Divine inspirations.
+
+"Listen to St. John Damascene upon the subject. He is very express. 'Not
+as Christ assumed humanity, so will the Devil become human; but the Man
+will receive all the inspiration of Satan, and will suffer the Devil to
+take up his abode within him.'"
+
+Gortre, who was listening with extreme attention, made a short, sharp
+exclamation at this last quotation.
+
+He had risen from his seat and stood by the mantel-shelf, leaning his
+elbow upon it.
+
+One of the ornaments of the mantel was a head of Christ, photographed on
+china, from Murillo, and held in a large silver frame like a photograph
+frame.
+
+Just as the vicar had finished reading there came a sudden knock at the
+door. It startled Gortre, and he moved suddenly. His elbow slid along
+the marble of the shelf and dislodged the picture, which fell upon the
+floor and was broken into a hundred pieces, crashing loudly upon the
+fender.
+
+The housemaid, who had knocked, stood for a moment looking with dismay
+upon the breakage. Then she turned to the vicar.
+
+"Mr. Schuabe from Mount Prospect to see you, sir," she said. "I've shown
+him into the drawing-room."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+"I THINK HE IS A GOOD MAN"
+
+
+The servant had turned on the lights in the drawing room, where a low
+fire still glowed red upon the hearth, and left Constantine Schuabe
+alone to await the vicar's arrival.
+
+On either side of the fireplace were heavy hangings of emerald and
+copper woven stuff, a present to Helena from an uncle, who had bought
+them at Benares. Schuabe stood motionless before this background.
+
+The man was tall, above the middle height, and the heavy coat of fur
+which he was wearing increased the impression of proportioned size, of
+massiveness, which was part of his personality. His hair was a very dark
+red, smooth and abundant, of that peculiar colour which is the last to
+show the greyness of advancing age. His features were Semitic, but
+without a trace of that fulness, and sometimes coarseness, which often
+marks the Jew who has come to the middle period of life. The eyes were
+large and black, but without animation, in ordinary use and wont. They
+did not light up as he spoke, but yet the expression was not veiled or
+obscured. They were coldly, terribly _aware_, with something of the
+sinister and untroubled regard one sees in a reptile's eyes.
+
+The jaw, which dominated the face and completed its remarkable
+_ensemble_, was very massive, reminding people of steel covered with
+olive-coloured parchment. Handsome was hardly the word which fitted him.
+He was a strikingly handsome man; but that, like "distinction," was
+only one of the qualities which made up his personality. Force,
+power--the relentless and conscious power suggested by some great marine
+engine--surrounded him in an almost indescribable way. They were like
+exhalations. Most people, with the casual view, called him merely
+indomitable, but there were others who thought they read deeper and saw
+something evil and monstrous about the man; powerless to give an exact
+and definite reason for the impression, and dubious of voicing it.
+
+Nevertheless, now and again, two or three people would speak of him to
+each other without reserve, and on such occasions they generally agreed
+to this feeling of the sinister and malign, in much the same manner as
+the vicar and his curate had been agreeing but half an hour before his
+arrival at the house.
+
+The door opened with a quick click of the handle, and the vicar entered
+with something of suddenness. One might almost have supposed that he had
+lingered, hesitant, in the hall, and suddenly nerved himself for this
+encounter.
+
+Mr. Byars advanced to take the hand of his visitor. Beside the big man
+he seemed shrunken and a little ineffectual. He was slightly nervous in
+his manner also, for Basil's impassioned and terror-ridden words still
+rang in his ears and had their way with him.
+
+The coincidence of the millionaire's arrival was altogether too sudden
+and _bizarre_.
+
+When they had made greetings, cordial enough on the surface, and were
+seated on either side of the fire, Schuabe spoke at once upon the object
+of his visit.
+
+"I have come, Mr. Byars," he said, in a singularly clear, vibrant voice,
+"to discuss certain educational proposals with you. As you probably
+know, just at present I am taking a very prominent part in the House of
+Commons in connection with the whole problem of primary education.
+Within the last few weeks I have been in active correspondence with your
+School Board, and you will know all about the scholarships I have
+founded.
+
+"But I am now coming to you to propose something of the same sort in
+connection with your own Church schools. My opinions on religious
+matters are, of course, not yours. But despite my position I have always
+recognised that, with whatever means, both the clergy and my own party
+are broadly working towards one end.
+
+"Walktown provides me with very many thousands a year, and it is my duty
+in some way or another to help Walktown. My proposal is roughly this: I
+will found and endow two yearly scholarships for two boys in the
+national schools. The money will be sufficient, in the first instance,
+to send them to one of the great Northern Grammar Schools, and
+afterwards, always providing that the early promise is maintained, to
+either university.
+
+"My only stipulation is this. The tests shall be purely and simply
+intellectual, and have nothing whatever to do with the religious
+teaching of the schools, with which I am not in sympathy. Nevertheless,
+it is only fair that a clever boy in a Church school should have the
+same opportunities as in a secular school. I should tell you that I have
+made the same offer to the Roman Catholic school authorities and it has
+been declined."
+
+The vicar listened with great attention. The offer was extremely
+generous, and showed a most open-minded determination to put the donor's
+personal prejudices out of the question. There could be no doubt as to
+his answer--none whatever.
+
+"My dear sir," he said, "your generosity is very great. I see your point
+about the examinations. Religion is to form no part of them exactly. But
+by the time one of our boys submits himself for examination we should
+naturally hope that he would already be so firmly fixed in Christian
+principles that his after-career would have no influence upon his faith.
+Holding the opinions that you do, your offer shows a great freedom from
+any prejudice. I hope I am broad-minded enough to recognise that
+philanthropy is a fine, lovely thing, despite the banner under which the
+philanthropist may stand. I accept your generous offer in the spirit
+that it is made. Of course, the scheme must be submitted to the managers
+of the schools, of whom I am chief, but the matter practically lies with
+me, and my lead will be followed."
+
+"I am only too glad," said the big man, with a sudden and transforming
+smile, "to help on the cause of knowledge. All the details of the scheme
+I will send you in a few days, and now I will detain you no longer."
+
+He rose to go.
+
+During their brief conversation the vicar had been conscious of many
+emotions. He blamed himself for his narrowness and the somewhat
+fantastic lengths to which his recent talk with Gortre had gone. The man
+was an infidel, no doubt. His intellectual attacks upon Christian faith
+were terribly damaging and subversive. Still, his love for his
+fellow-men was sincere, it seemed. He attacked the faith, but not the
+preachers of it. And--a half thought crossed his brain--he might have
+been sent to him for some good purpose. St. Paul had not always borne
+the name of Paul!
+
+These thoughts, but half formulated in his brain, had their immediate
+effect in concrete action.
+
+"Won't you take off your coat, Mr. Schuabe," he said, "and smoke a cigar
+with me in my study?"
+
+The other hesitated a moment, looked doubtful, and then assented. He
+hung his coat up in the hall and went into the other room with the
+vicar.
+
+During the conversation in the drawing-room Helena had come back from
+the concert, and Basil, hearing her, had left the study and gone to her
+own private sanctum for a last few minutes before saying good-night.
+
+Helena sat in a low chair by the fire sipping a bowl of soup which the
+maid had brought up to her. She was a little tired by the concert, where
+a local pianist had been playing a nocturne of Chopin's as if he wanted
+to make it into soup, and the quiet of her own sitting-room, the
+intimate comfort of it all, and the sense of happiness that Basil's
+presence opposite gave her were in delightful contrast.
+
+"It was very stupid, dear," she said. "Mrs. Pryde was rather trying,
+full of dull gossip about every one, and the music wasn't good. Mr.
+Cuthbert played as if he was playing the organ in church. His touch is
+utterly unfitted for anything except the War March from _Athalie_ with
+the stops out. He knows nothing of the piano. I was in a front seat, and
+I could see his knee feeling for the swell all the time. He played _the_
+sonata as if he was throwing the moonlight at one in great solid chunks.
+I'm glad to be back. How nice it is to sit here with you, dearest!--and
+how good this Bovril is!" she concluded with a little laugh of content
+and happiness at this moment of acute physical and mental ease.
+
+He looked lovingly at her as she lay back in rest and the firelight
+played over her white arms and pale gold hair.
+
+"It's wonderful to think," he said, with a little catch in his voice,
+"it's wonderful to me, an ever-recurring wonder, to think that some day
+you and I will always be together for all our life, here and afterwards.
+What supreme, unutterable happiness God gives to His children! Do you
+know, dear, sometimes as I read prayers or stand by the altar, I am
+filled with a sort of rapture of thankfulness which is voiceless in its
+intensity. Tennyson got nearer to expressing it than any one in that
+beautiful _St. Agnes' Eve_ of his--a little gem which, with its
+simplicity and fervour, is worth far more than Keats's poem with all its
+literary art."
+
+"It is good to feel like that sometimes," she answered; "but it is well,
+I think, not to get into the way of _inducing_ such feelings. The human
+brain is such a sensitive thing that one can get into the way of
+drugging it with emotion, as it were. I think I am tinged a little with
+the North-country spirit. I always think of Newman's wonderful lines--
+
+    "'The thoughts control that o'er thee swell and throng;
+    They will condense within the soul and turn to purpose strong.
+    But he who lets his feelings run in soft luxurious flow,
+    Shrinks when hard service must be done, and faints at every blow.'
+
+"I only quote from memory. But you look tired, dear boy; you are rather
+white. Have you been overworking?"
+
+He did not answer immediately.
+
+"No," he said slowly, "but I've been having a long talk with the vicar.
+We were talking about Mr. Schuabe and his influence. Helena, that man is
+the most active of God's enemies in England. Almost when I was
+mentioning his name, by some coincidence, or perhaps for some deeper,
+more mysterious, psychical reason which men do not yet understand, the
+maid announced him. He had come to see your father on business,
+and--don't think I am unduly fanciful--the Murillo photograph, the head
+of Christ, on the mantel-shelf, fell down and was broken. He is here
+still, I think."
+
+"Yes," said Helena; "Mr. Schuabe is in the study with father. But, Basil
+dear, it's quite evident to me that you've been doing too much. Do you
+know that I look upon Mr. Schuabe as a really _good_ man! I have often
+thought about him, and even prayed that he may learn the truth; but God
+has many instruments. Mr. Schuabe is sincere in his unbelief. His life
+and all his actions are for the good of others. It is terrible--it is
+deplorable--to know he attacks Christianity; but he is tolerant and
+large-minded also. Yes, I should call him a good man. He will come to
+God some day. God would not have given him such power over the minds and
+bodies of men otherwise."
+
+Gortre smiled a little sadly,--a rather wan smile, which sat strangely
+upon his strong and hearty face--, but he said no more.
+
+He knew that his attitude was illogical, perhaps it could be called
+bigoted and intolerant--a harsh indictment in these easy, latitudinarian
+days; but his conviction was an intuition. It came from within, from
+something outside or beyond his reason, and would not be stifled.
+
+"Well, dear," he said, "perhaps it is as you say. Nerves which are
+overwrought, and a system which is run down, certainly have their say,
+and a large say, too, in one's attitude towards any one. Now you must go
+to bed. I will go down and say good-night to the rector and Mr.
+Schuabe--just to show there's no ill-feeling; though, goodness knows, I
+oughtn't to jest about the man. Good-night, sweet one; God bless you.
+Remember me also in your prayers to-night."
+
+She kissed him in her firm, brave way--a kiss so strong and loving, so
+pure and sweet, that he went away from that little room of books and
+_bric-�-brac_ as if he had been sojourning in some shrine.
+
+As Basil came into the study he found Mr. Byars and Schuabe in eager,
+animated talk. A spirit decanter had been brought in during his
+absence, and the vicar was taking the single glass of whisky-and-water
+he allowed himself before going to bed. Basil, who was in a singularly
+alert and observant mood, noticed that a glass of plain seltzer water
+stood before the millionaire.
+
+Gortre's personal acquaintance with Schuabe was of the slightest. He had
+met him once or twice on the platform of big meetings, and that was all.
+A simple curate, unless socially,--and Schuabe did not enter into the
+social life of Walktown, being almost always in London,--he would not be
+very likely to come in the way of this mammoth.
+
+But Schuabe greeted him with marked cordiality, and he sat down to
+listen to the two men.
+
+In two minutes he was fascinated, in five he realised, with a quick and
+unpleasant sense of inferiority, how ignorant he was beside these two.
+In Schuabe the vicar found a man whose knowledge was as wide and
+scholarship as profound as his own.
+
+From a purely intellectual standpoint, probably Gortre and Schuabe were
+more nearly on a level, but in pure knowledge he was nowhere. He
+wondered, as he listened, if the generation immediately preceding his
+own had been blessed with more time for culture, if the foundation had
+been surer and more comprehensive, when they were _alumni_ of the
+"loving mother" in the South.
+
+They were discussing arch�ological questions connected with the Holy
+Land.
+
+Schuabe possessed a profound and masterly knowledge of the whole Jewish
+background to the Gospel picture, not merely of the arch�ology, which in
+itself is a life study, but of the essential characteristics of Jewish
+thought and feeling, which is far more.
+
+Of course, every now and again the conversation turned towards a
+direction that, pursued, would have led to controversy. But, with mutual
+tact, the debatable ground was avoided. That Christ was a historic fact
+Schuabe, of course, admitted and implied, and when the question of His
+Divinity seemed likely to occur he was careful and adroit to avoid any
+discussion.
+
+To the young man, burning with the zeal of youth, this seemed a pity.
+Unconsciously, he blamed the vicar for not pressing certain points home.
+
+What an opportunity was here! The rarity of such a visit, the obvious
+interest the two men were beginning to take in each other--should not a
+great blow for Christ be struck on such an auspicious night? Even if the
+protest was unavailing, the argument overthrown, was it not a duty to
+speak of the awful and eternal realities which lay beneath this vivid
+and brilliant interchange of scholarship?
+
+His brain was on fire with passionate longing to speak. But,
+nevertheless, he controlled it. None knew better than he the depth and
+worth of the vicar's character. And he felt himself a junior; he had no
+right to question the decision of his superior.
+
+"You have missed much, Mr. Byars," said Schuabe, as he arose to go at
+last, "in never having visited Jerusalem. One can get the knowledge of
+it, but never the colour. And, even to-day, the city must appear, in
+many respects, exactly as it did under the rule of Pilate. The Fellah
+women sell their vegetables, the camels come in loaded with roots for
+fuel, the Bedouin, the Jews with their long gowns and slippers--I wish
+you could see it all. I have eaten the meals of the Gospels, drunk the
+red wine of Saron, the spiced wine mixed with honey and black pepper,
+the 'wine of myrrh' mentioned in the Gospel of Mark. I have dined with
+Jewish tradesmen and gone through the same formalities of hand-washing
+as we read of two thousand years ago; I have seen the poor
+ostentatiously gathered in out of the streets and the best part of the
+meal given them for a self-righteous show. And yet, an hour afterwards,
+I have sat in a _caf�_ by King David's Tower and played dice with
+Turkish soldiers armed with Martini rifles!"
+
+The vicar seemed loath to let his guest go, though the hour was late,
+but he refused to stay longer. Mr. Byars, with a somewhat transparent
+eagerness, mentioned that Gortre's road home lay for part of the way in
+the same direction as the millionaire's. He seemed to wish the young man
+to accompany him, almost, so Basil thought, that the charm of his
+personality might rebuke him for his tirade in the early part of the
+evening.
+
+Accordingly, in agreement with the vicar's evident wish, but with an
+inexplicable ice-cold feeling in his heart, he left the house with
+Schuabe and began to walk with him through the silent, lamp-lit
+streets.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE SMOKE CLOUD AT DAWN
+
+
+The two men strode along without speaking for some way. Their feet
+echoed in the empty streets.
+
+Suddenly Schuabe turned to Basil. "Well, Mr. Gortre," he said, "I have
+given you your opportunity. Are you not going to speak the word in
+season after all?"
+
+The young man started violently. Who was this man who had been reading
+his inner thoughts? How could his companion have fathomed his sternly
+repressed desire as he sat in the vicarage study? And why did he speak
+now, when he knew that some chilling influence had him in its grip, that
+his tongue was tied, his power weakened?
+
+"It is late, Mr. Schuabe," he said at length, and very gravely. "My
+brain is tired and my enthusiasm chilled. Nor are you anxious to hear
+what I have to say. But your taunt is ungenerous. It almost seems as if
+you are not always so tolerant as men think!"
+
+The other laughed--a cold laugh, but not an unkindly one. "Forgive me,"
+he said, "one should not jest with conviction. But I should like to talk
+with you also. There are lusts of the brain just as there are lusts of
+the flesh, and to-night I am in the mood and humour for conversation."
+
+They were approaching a side road which led to Gortre's rooms.
+Schuabe's great stone house was still a quarter of a mile away up the
+hill.
+
+"Do not go home yet," said Schuabe, "come to my house, see my books, and
+let us talk. Make friends with the mammon of unrighteousness, Mr.
+Gortre! You are disturbed and unstrung to-night. You will not sleep.
+Come with me."
+
+Gortre hesitated for a moment, and then continued with him. He was
+hardly conscious why he did so, but even as he accepted the invitation
+his nerves seemed recovered as by some powerful tonic. A strange
+confidence possessed him, and he strode on with the air and manner of a
+man who has some fixed purpose in his brain.
+
+And as he talked casually with Schuabe, he felt towards him no longer
+the cold fear, the inexplicable shrinking. He regarded him rather as a
+vast and powerful enemy, an evil, sinister influence, indeed, but one
+against which he was armed with an armour not his own, with weapons
+forged by great and terrible hands.
+
+So they entered the drive and walked up among the gaunt black trees
+towards the house.
+
+Mount Prospect was a large, castellated modern building of stone. In a
+neighbourhood where architectural monstrosities abounded, perhaps it
+outdid them all in its almost brutal ugliness and vulgarity. It had been
+built by Constantine Schuabe's grandfather.
+
+The present owner was little at Walktown. His Parliamentary and social
+duties bound him to London, and when he had time for recreation the
+newspapers announced that he had "gone abroad," and until he was
+actually seen again in the midst of his friends his disappearances were
+mysterious and complete.
+
+In London he had a private set of rooms at one of the great hotels.
+
+But despite his rare visits, the hideous stone palace in the smoky North
+held all the treasures which he himself had collected and which had been
+left to him by his father.
+
+It was understood that at his death the pictures and library were to
+become the property of the citizens of Manchester, held in trust for
+them by the corporation.
+
+Schuabe took a key from his pocket and opened the heavy door in the
+porch.
+
+"I always keep the house full of servants," he said, "even when I am
+away, for a dismantled house and caretakers are horrible. But they will
+be all gone to bed now, and we must look after ourselves."
+
+Opening an inner door, they passed through some heavy padded curtains,
+which fell behind them with a dull thud, and came out into the great
+hall.
+
+Ugly as the shell of the great building was, the interior was very
+different.
+
+Here, set like a jewel in the midst of the harsh, forbidding country,
+was a treasure-house of ordered beauty which had few equals in England.
+
+Gortre drew a long, shuddering breath of pleasure as he looked round.
+Every �sthetic influence within him responded to what he saw. And how
+simple and severe it all was! Simply a great domed hall of white marble,
+brilliantly lit by electric light hidden high above their heads. On
+every side slender columns rose towards the dome, beyond them were tall
+archways leading to the rooms of the house; dull, formless curtains,
+striking no note of colour, hung from the archways.
+
+In the centre of the vast space, exactly under the dome, was a large
+pool of still green water, a square basin with abrupt edges, having no
+fountain nor gaudy fish to break its smoothness.
+
+And that was all, literally all. No rugs covered the tesselated floor,
+not a single seat stood anywhere. There was not the slightest suggestion
+of furniture or habitation. White, silent, and beautiful! As Gortre
+stood there, he knew, as if some special message had been given him,
+that he had come for some great hidden purpose, that it had been
+foreordained. His whole soul seemed filled with a holy power, unseen
+powers and principalities thronged round him like sweet but awful
+friends.
+
+He turned inquiringly towards his host. Schuabe's face was very pale;
+the calm, cruel eyes seemed agitated; he was staring at the priest.
+"Come," he said in a voice which seemed to be without its usual
+confidence; "come, this place is cold--I have sometimes thought it a
+little too bare and fantastic--come into the library; let us eat and
+talk."
+
+He turned and passed through the pillars on the right. Gortre followed
+him through the dark, heavy curtains which led to the library.
+
+They found themselves in an immense low-ceilinged room. The floor was
+covered with a thick carpet of dull blue, and their feet made no sound
+as they passed over it towards the blazing fire, which glowed in an old
+oak framework of panelling and ingle-nook brought from an ancient
+manor-house in Norfolk.
+
+At one end of the room was a small organ, cased, modern as the mechanism
+was, in priceless Renaissance painted panels from Florence and set in a
+little octagonal alcove hung with white and yellow.
+
+The enormous writing-table of dark wood stood in front of the fireplace
+and was covered with books and papers. By it was a smaller circular
+table laid with a white cloth and shining glass and silver for a meal.
+
+"My valet is in bed," said Schuabe; "I hate any one about me at night,
+and I prefer to wait on myself then. 'From the cool cisterns of the
+midnight air my spirit drinks repose.' If you will wait here a few
+moments I will go and get some food. I know where to find some. Pray
+amuse yourself by looking at my books."
+
+He left the room noiselessly, and Basil turned towards the walls. From
+ceiling to floor the immense room was lined with shelves of enamelled
+white wood, here and there carved with tiny florid bunches of fruit and
+flowers--Jacobean work it seemed.
+
+A few pictures here and there in spaces between the shelves--the hectic
+flummery of a Whistler nocturne; a woman _avec cerises_, by Manet; a
+green silk fan, painted with _f�tes gallantes_, by Conder--alone broke
+the many-coloured monotony of the books.
+
+Gortre had, from his earliest Oxford days, been a lover of books and a
+collector in a moderate, discriminating way. As a rule he was roused to
+a mild enthusiasm by a fine library. But as his practised eye ran over
+the shelves, noting the beauty and variety of the contents, he was
+unmoved by any special interest. His brain, still, so it seemed, under
+some outside and compelling instinct or influence, was singularly
+detached from ordinary interests and rejected the books' appeal.
+
+Close to where he stood the shelves were covered with theological works.
+M�ller's _Lectures on the Vedanta Philosophy_, Romane's _Reply to Dr.
+Lightfoot_, De la Saussaye's _Manual_, stood together. His hand had been
+wandering unconsciously over the books when it was suddenly arrested,
+and stopped on a familiar black binding with plain gold letters. It was
+an ordinary reference edition of the Holy Bible, the "pearl" edition
+from the Oxford University Press.
+
+There was something familiar and homely in the little dark volume, which
+showed signs of constant use. A few feet away was a long shelf of Bibles
+of all kinds, rare editions, expensive copies bound up with famous
+commentaries--all the luxuries and _�ditions de luxe_ of Holy Writ. But
+the book beneath his fingers was the same size and shape as the one
+which stood near his own bedside in his rooms--the one which his father
+had given him when he went to Harrow, with "Flee youthful lusts" written
+on the fly-leaf in faded ink. It was homelike and familiar.
+
+He drew it out with a half smile at himself for choosing the one book he
+knew by heart from this new wealth of literature.
+
+Then a swift impulse came to him.
+
+Gortre could not be called a superstitious man. The really religious
+temperament, which, while not rejecting the aids of surface and symbol,
+has seen far below them, rarely is "superstitious" as the word has come
+to be understood.
+
+The familiar touch, the pleasant sensation of the limp, rough leather on
+his finger-balls gave him a feeling of security. But that very fact
+seemed to remind him that some danger, some subtle mental danger, was
+near. Was this Bible sent to him? he wondered. Were his eyes and hands
+_directed_ to it by the vibrating, invisible presences which he felt
+were near him? Who could say?
+
+But he took the book in his right hand, breathed a prayer for help and
+guidance--if it might so be that God, who watched him, would speak a
+message of help--and opened it at random.
+
+He was about to make a trial of that old medi�val practice of
+"searching"--that harmless trial of faith which a modern hard-headed
+cleric has analysed so cleverly, so completely, and so entirely
+unsatisfactorily.
+
+He opened the book, with his eyes fixed in front of him, and then let
+them drop towards it. For a moment the small type was all blurred and
+indistinct, and then one text seemed to leap out at him.
+
+It was this--
+
+     "TAKE YE HEED, WATCH AND PRAY: FOR YE KNOW NOT WHEN THE TIME IS."
+
+This, then, was his message! He was to _watch_, to pray, for the time
+was at hand when--
+
+The curtain slid aside, and Schuabe entered with a tray. He had changed
+his morning coat for a long dressing-gown of camel's-hair, and wore
+scarlet leather slippers.
+
+Basil slipped the Bible back into its place and turned to face him.
+
+"I live very simply," he said, "and can offer you nothing very
+elaborate. But here is some cold chicken, a watercress salad, and a
+bottle of claret."
+
+They sat down on opposite sides of the round table and said little. Both
+men were tired and hungry. After he had eaten, the clergyman bent his
+head for a second or two in an inaudible grace, and made the sign of the
+Cross before he rose from his chair.
+
+"Symbol!" said Schuabe, with a cold smile, as he saw him.
+
+The truce was over.
+
+"What is that Cross to which all Christians bow?" he continued. "It was
+the symbol of the water-god of the Gauls, a mere piece of their
+iconography. The Phoenician ruin of Gigantica is built in the shape of a
+cross; the Druids used it in their ceremonies; it was Thor's hammer long
+before it became Christ's gibbet; it is used by the pagan Icelanders to
+this day as a magic sign in connection with storms of wind. Why, the
+symbol of Buddha on the reverse of a coin found at Ugain is the same
+cross, the 'fylfot' of Thor. The cross was carved by Brahmins a thousand
+years before Christ in the caves of Elephanta. I have seen it in India
+with my own eyes in the hands of Siva Brahma and Vishnu! The worshipper
+of Vishnu attributes as many virtues to it as the pious Roman Catholic
+here in Salford to the Christian Cross. There is the very strongest
+evidence that the origin of the cross is phallic! The _crux ansata_ was
+the sign of Venus: it appears beside Baal and Astarte!"
+
+"Very possibly, Mr. Schuabe," said Gortre, quietly. "Your knowledge on
+such points is far wider than mine; but that does not affect
+Christianity in the slightest."
+
+"Of course not! Who ever said it did? But this reverence for the cross,
+the instrument of execution on which an excellent teacher, and, as far
+as we know, a really good man, suffered, angers me because it reminds me
+of the absurd and unreasoning superstitions which cloud the minds of so
+many educated men like yourself."
+
+"Ah," said Gortre, quietly, "now we are 'gripped.' We have come to the
+point."
+
+"If you choose, Mr. Gortre," Schuabe answered; "you are an intellectual
+man, and one intellectual man has a certain right to challenge another.
+I was staying with Lord Haileybury the other day, and I spent two whole
+mornings walking over the country with the Bishop of London, talking on
+these subjects. He very ably endeavoured to bring physical and
+psychological science into a single whole. But all he seemed to me to
+prove was this, crystallised into an axiom or at least a postulate.
+_Conscious volition is the ultimate source of all force._ It is his
+belief that behind the sensuous and phenomenal world which gives it
+form, existence, and activity, lies the ultimate invisible, immeasurable
+power of Mind, conscious Will, of Intelligence, analogous to our own;
+and--mark this essential corollary--_that man is in communication with
+it_, and that was positively all he could do for me! I met him there
+easily enough, but when he tried to prove a _revelation_--Christianity
+--he utterly broke down. We parted very good friends, and I gave him a
+thousand pounds for the East London poor fund. But still, say what you
+will to me. I am here to listen."
+
+He looked calmly at the young man with his unsmiling eyes. He held a
+Russian cigarette in his fingers, and he waved it with a gentle gesture
+of invitation as if from an immeasurable superiority.
+
+And as Gortre watched him he knew that here was a brain and intelligence
+far keener and finer than his own. But with all that certainty he felt
+entirely undismayed, strangely uplifted.
+
+"I have a message for you, Mr. Schuabe," he began, and the other bowed
+slightly, without irony, at his words. "I have a message for you, one
+which I have been sent here--I firmly believe--to deliver, but it is not
+the message or the argument that you expect to hear."
+
+He stopped for a short time, marshalling his mental forces, and noticing
+a slight but perceptible look of surprise in his host's eyes.
+
+"I know you better than you imagine, sir," he said gravely, "and not as
+many other good and devout Christians see you. I tell you here to-night
+with absolute certainty that you are the active enemy of Christ--I say
+_active_ enemy."
+
+The face opposite became slightly less tranquil, but the voice was as
+calm as ever.
+
+"You speak according to your lights, Mr. Gortre," he said. "I am no
+Christian, but there is much good in Christianity. My words and writings
+may have helped to lift the veil of superstition and hereditary
+influences from the eyes of many men, and in that sense I am an enemy of
+the Christian faith, I suppose. My sincerity is my only apology--if one
+were needed. You speak with more harshness and less tolerance than I
+should have thought it your pleasure or your duty to use."
+
+Gortre rose. "Man," he cried, with sudden sternness, "I _know! You hate
+our Lord_, and would work Him evil. You are as Judas was, for to-night
+it is given me to read far into your brain."
+
+Schuabe rose quickly from his chair and stood facing him. His face was
+pallid, something looked out of his eyes which almost frightened the
+other.
+
+"What do you know?" he cried as if in a swift stroke of pain. "Who--?"
+He stopped as if by a tremendous effort.
+
+Some thought came to reassure him.
+
+"Listen," he said. "I tell you, paid priest as you are, a blind man
+leading the blind, that a day is coming when all your boasted fabric of
+Christianity will disappear. It will go suddenly, and be swept utterly
+away. And you, you shall see it. You shall be left naked of your faith,
+stripped and bare, with all Christendom beside you. Your pale Nazarene
+shall die amid the bitter laughter of the world, die as surely as He
+died two thousand years ago, and no man or woman shall resurrect Him.
+You know nothing, but you will remember my words of to-night, until you
+also become as nothing and endure the inevitable fate of mankind."
+
+He had spoken with extraordinary vehemence, hissing the words out with a
+venom and malice, general rather than particular, from which the
+Churchman shrunk, shuddering. There was such unutterable _conviction_ in
+the thin, evil voice that for a moment the pain of it was like a spasm
+of physical agony.
+
+Schuabe had thrown down the mask; it was even as Gortre said, the soul
+of Iscariot looked out from those eyes. The man saw the clergyman's
+sudden shrinking.
+
+The smile of a devil flashed over his face. Gortre had turned to him
+once more and he saw it. And as he watched an awful certainty grew
+within him, a thought so appalling that beside it all that had gone
+before sank into utter insignificance.
+
+He staggered for a moment and then rose to his full height, a fearful
+loathing in his eyes, a scorn like a whip of fire in his voice.
+
+Schuabe blanched before him, for he saw the truth in the priest's soul.
+
+"As the Lord of Hosts is my witness," cried Gortre loudly, "I know you
+now for what you are! YOU KNOW THAT CHRIST IS GOD!"
+
+Schuabe shrank into his chair.
+
+"ANTICHRIST!" pealed out the accusing voice. "You know the truth full
+well, and, knowing, in an awful presumption you have dared to lift your
+hand against God."
+
+Then there was a dead silence in the room. Schuabe sat motionless by the
+dying fire.
+
+Very slowly the colour crept back into his cheeks. Slowly the strength
+and light entered his eyes. He moved slightly.
+
+At last he spoke.
+
+"Go," he said. "Go, and never let me see your face again. You have
+spoken. Yet I tell you still that such a blinding blow shall descend on
+Christendom that----"
+
+He rose quickly from his chair. His manner changed utterly with a
+marvellous swiftness.
+
+He went to the window and pulled aside the curtain. A chill and ghostly
+dawn came creeping into the library.
+
+"Let us make an end of this," he said quietly and naturally. "Of what
+use for you and me, atoms that we are, to wrangle and thunder through
+the night over an infinity in which we have neither part nor lot? Come,
+get you homewards and rest, as I am about to do. The night has been an
+unpleasant dream. Treat it as such. We differ on great matters. Let that
+be so and we will forget it. You shall have a friend in me if you will."
+
+Gortre, hardly conscious of any voluntary movements, his brain in a
+stupor, the arteries all over his body beating like little drums, took
+the hat and coat the other handed to him, and stumbled out of the house.
+
+It was about five o'clock in the morning, raw, damp, and cold.
+
+With a white face, drawn and haggard with emotion, he strode down the
+hill. The keen air revived his physical powers, but his brain was
+whirling, whirling, till connected thought was impossible.
+
+What was it? What was the truth about that nightmare, that long, horrid
+night in the warm, rich room? His powers were failing; he must see a
+doctor after breakfast.
+
+When he reached the foot of the hill, and was about to turn down the
+road which led to his rooms, he stopped to rest for a moment.
+
+From far behind the hill, over the dark, silhouetted houses of the
+wealthy people who lived upon it, a huge, formless pall of purple smoke
+was rising, and almost blotting out the dawn in a Titanic curtain of
+gloom. The feeble new-born sun flickered redly through it, the colour of
+blood. There was no wind that morning, and the fog and smoke from the
+newly lit factory chimneys in the Irwell valley could not be dispersed.
+It crept over the town like doom itself--menacing, vast, unconquerable.
+
+He pulled out his latch-key with trembling hand, and turned to enter his
+own door.
+
+The cloud was spreading.
+
+"Lighten our darkness," he whispered to himself, half consciously, and
+then fell fainting on the door-step, where they found him soon, and
+carried him in to the sick-bed, where he lay sick of a brain-fever a
+month or more.
+
+_Lighten our darkness!_
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+A LOST SOUL
+
+
+In his great room at the British Museum, great, that is, for the private
+room of an official, Robert Llwellyn sat at his writing-desk finishing
+the last few lines of his article on the Hebrew inscription in mosaic,
+which had been discovered at Kefr Kenna.
+
+It was about four in the afternoon, growing dark with the peculiarly
+sordid and hopeless twilight of a winter's afternoon in central London.
+A reading lamp upon the desk threw a bright circle of light on the sheet
+of white unlined paper covered with minute writing, which lay before the
+keeper of Biblical antiquities in the British Museum.
+
+The view from the tall windows was hideous and almost sinister in its
+ugliness. Nothing met the eye but the gloomy backs of some of the great
+dingy lodging-houses which surround the Museum, bedroom windows, back
+bedrooms with dingy curtains, vulgarly unlovely.
+
+The room itself was official looking, but far from uncomfortable. There
+were many book-shelves lining the walls. Over them hung large-framed
+photographs and drawings of inscriptions. On a stand by itself, covered
+with a glass shade, was a duplicate of Dr. Schick's model of the Haram
+Area during the Christian occupation of Jerusalem.
+
+A dull fire glowed in the large open fireplace.
+
+Llwellyn wrote a final line with a sigh of relief and then leaned far
+back in his swivel chair. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were dull
+with some inward communing, apparently of a disturbing and unpleasant
+kind.
+
+The door opened noiselessly (all the dwellers in the mysterious private
+parts of the Museum walk without noise, and seem to have caught in their
+voices something of that almost religious reverence emanating from
+surroundings out of the immemorial past), and Lambert, the assistant
+keeper and secretary, entered.
+
+He drew up a chair to the writing-desk.
+
+"The firman has been granted!" he said.
+
+A quick interest shone on Professor Llwellyn's face.
+
+"Ah!" he said, "it has come at last, then, after all these months of
+waiting. I began to despair of the Turkish Government. I never thought
+it would be granted. Then the Society will really begin to excavate at
+last in the prohibited spots! Really that is splendid news, Lambert. We
+shall have some startling results. Results, mind you, which will be
+historical, historical! I doubt but that the whole theory of the Gospel
+narrative will have to be reconstructed during the next few years!"
+
+"It is quite possible," said Lambert. "But, on the other hand, it may
+happen that nothing whatever is found."
+
+Llwellyn nodded. Then a sudden thought seemed to strike him. "But how do
+you know of this, Lambert?" he said, "and how has it happened?"
+
+Lambert was a pleasant, open-faced fellow, young, and with a certain air
+of distinction. He laughed gaily, and returned his chief's look of
+interest with an affectionate expression in his eyes.
+
+"Ah!" he said, "I have heard a great deal, sir, and I have some thing to
+tell you which I am very happy about. It is gratifying to bring you the
+first news. Last night I was dining with my uncle, Sir Michael
+Manichoe, you know. The Home Secretary was there, a great friend of my
+uncle's. You know the great interest he takes in the work of the
+Exploration Society, and his general interest in the Holy Land?"
+
+"Oh, of course," said Llwellyn. "He's the leader of the uncompromising
+Protestant party in the House; owes his position to it, in fact. He
+breakfasts with the Septuagint, lunches off the Gospels, and sups with
+Revelations. Well?"
+
+"It is owing to his personal interest in the work," continued Lambert,
+"that the Sultan has granted the firman. After dinner he took me aside,
+and we had a longish talk. He was very gracious, and most eager to hear
+of all our recent work here, and additions to the collections in our
+department. I was extremely pleased, as you may imagine. He spoke of
+you, sir, as the greatest living authority--wouldn't hear of Conrad
+Schick or Clermont-Ganneau in the same breath with you. He went on to
+say in confidence, and he hinted to me that I had his permission to tell
+you, though he didn't say as much in so many words, that they are going
+to offer you knighthood in a few days!"
+
+A sudden flush suffused the face of the elder man. Then he laughed a
+little.
+
+"Your news is certainly unexpected, my dear boy," he said, "and, for my
+part, knighthood is no very welcome thing personally. But it would be
+idle to deny that I'm pleased. It means recognition of my work, you see.
+In that way only, it is good news that you have brought."
+
+"That's just it, Professor," the young man answered enthusiastically.
+"That's exactly it. Sir Robert Llwellyn, or Mr. Llwellyn, of course,
+cannot matter to you personally. But it _is_ a fitting and graceful
+recognition of the _work_. It is a proper thing that the greatest
+living authority on the antiquities and history of Asia Minor should be
+officially recognised. It encourages all of us, you see, Professor."
+
+The young man's generous excitement pleased Llwellyn. He placed his hand
+upon his shoulder with a kindly, affectionate gesture.
+
+At that moment a messenger knocked and entered with a bundle of letters,
+which had just arrived by the half-past-four post, and, with a
+congratulatory shake of the hand, Lambert left his chief to his
+correspondence.
+
+The great specialist, when he had left the room, rose from his chair,
+went towards the door with swift, cat-like steps, and locked it. Then he
+returned to the desk, opened a deep drawer with a key which he drew from
+his watch-pocket, and took a silver-mounted flask of brandy from the
+receptacle. He poured a small dose of brandy into the metal cup and
+drank it hurriedly.
+
+Then he leaned back once more in his chair.
+
+Professor Llwellyn's face was familiar to all readers of the illustrated
+press. He was one of the few famous _savants_ whose name was a household
+word not only to his colleagues and the learned generally, but also to
+the great mass of the general public.
+
+In every department of effort and work there are one or two men whose
+personality seems to catch the popular eye.
+
+His large, clean-shaven face might have belonged to a popular comedian;
+his portly figure had still nothing of old age about it. He was
+sprightly and youthful in manner despite his fat. The small, merry,
+green eyes--eyes which had yet something furtive and "alarmed" in them
+at times--stood for a concrete personification of good humour. His
+somewhat sensual lips were always smiling and jolly on public occasions.
+His enormous erudition and acknowledged place among the learned of
+Europe went so strangely with his appearance that the world was pleased
+and tickled by the paradox.
+
+It was a fine thing to think that the spectacled Dry-as-dust was gone.
+That era of animated mummy was over, and when The World read of
+Professor Llwellyn at a first night of the Lyceum, or the guest of
+honour at the Savage Club, it forgot to jeer at his abstruse erudition.
+
+Scholars admitted his scholarship, and ordinary men and women welcomed
+him as _homme du monde_.
+
+The Professor replaced the flask in the drawer and locked it. His hand
+trembled as he did so. The light which shone on the white face showed it
+eloquent with dread and despair. Here, in the privacy of the huge,
+comfortable room, was a soul in an anguish that no mortal eyes could
+see.
+
+The Professor had locked the door.
+
+The letters which the messenger had brought were many in number and
+various in shape and style.
+
+Five or six of them, which bore foreign stamps and indications that they
+came from the Continental antiquarian societies, he put on one side to
+be opened and replied to on the morrow.
+
+Then he took up an envelope addressed to him in firm black writing and
+turned it over. On the flap was the white, embossed oval and crown,
+which showed that it came from the House of Commons. His florid face
+became paler than before, the flesh of it turned grey, an unpleasant
+sight in so large and ample a countenance, as he tore it open. The
+letter ran as follows:
+
+     "HOUSE OF COMMONS.
+
+     "DEAR LLWELLYN,--I am writing to you now to say that I am quite
+     determined that the present situation shall not continue. You must
+     understand, finally, that my patience is exhausted, and that,
+     unless the large sum you owe me is repaid within the next week, my
+     solicitors have my instructions, which are quite unalterable, to
+     proceed in bankruptcy against you without further delay.
+
+     "The principal and interest now total to the sum of fourteen
+     thousand pounds. Your promises to repay, and your innumerable
+     requests for more time in which to do so, now extend over a period
+     of three years. I have preserved all your letters on the subject at
+     issue between us, and I find that, so far from decreasing your
+     indebtedness when your promises became due, you have almost
+     invariably asked me for further sums, which, in foolish confidence,
+     as I feel now, I have advanced to you.
+
+     "It would be superfluous to point out to you what bankruptcy would
+     mean to you in your position. Ruin would be the only word. And it
+     would be no ordinary bankruptcy. I have a by no means uncertain
+     idea where these large sums have gone, and my knowledge can hardly
+     fail to be shared by others in London society.
+
+     "I have still a chance to offer you, however, and, perhaps, you
+     will find me by no means the tyrant you think.
+
+     "There are certain services which you can do me, and which, if you
+     fall in with my views, will not only wipe off the few thousands of
+     your indebtedness, but provide you with a capital sum which will
+     place you above the necessity for any such financial manoeuvres in
+     the future as your--shall I say _infatuation_?--has led you to
+     resort to in the past.
+
+     "If you care to lunch with me at my rooms in the Hotel Cecil, at
+     two o'clock, the day after to-morrow--Friday--we may discuss your
+     affairs quietly. If not, then I must refer you to my solicitors
+     entirely.
+
+     "Yours sincerely,
+          "CONSTANTINE SCHUABE."
+
+The big man gave a horrid groan--half snarl, half groan--the sound
+which comes from a strong animal desperate and at bay.
+
+He crossed over to the fireplace and pushed the letter down into a
+glowing cavern among the coals, holding it there with the poker until it
+was utterly consumed and fluttered up the chimney from his sight in a
+sheet of ash--the very colour of his relaxed and pendulous cheeks.
+
+He opened another letter, a small, fragile thing written on mauve paper,
+in a large, irregular hand--a woman's hand:--
+
+
+     "15 BLOOMSBURY COURT MANSIONS.
+
+     "DEAR BOB--I shall expect you at the flat to-night at eleven,
+     _without fail_. You'd better come, or things which you won't like
+     will happen.
+
+     "You've just _got_ to come.--Yours,    GERTRUDE."
+
+He put this letter into his pocket and began to walk the room in long,
+silent strides.
+
+A little after five he put on a heavy fur coat and left the now silent
+and gloomy halls of the Museum.
+
+The lamps of Holborn were lit and a blaze of light came from Oxford
+Circus, where the winking electric advertisements had just begun their
+work on the tops of the houses.
+
+A policeman saluted the Professor as he passed, and was rewarded by a
+genial smile and jolly word of greeting, which sent a glow of pleasure
+through his six feet.
+
+Llwellyn walked steadily on towards the Marble Arch and Edgeware Road.
+The continual roar of the traffic helped his brain. It became active and
+able to think, to plan once more. The steady exercise warmed his blood
+and exhilarated him.
+
+There began to be almost a horrid pleasure in the stress of his
+position. The danger was so immediate and fell; the blow would be so
+utterly irreparable, that he was near to enjoying his walk while he
+could still consider the thing from a detached point of view.
+
+Throughout life that had always been his power. A strange resilience had
+animated him in all chances and changes of fortune.
+
+He was that almost inhuman phenomenon, a sensualist with a soul.
+
+For many years, while his name became great in Europe and the solid
+brilliancy of his work grew in lustre as he in age, he had lived two
+lives, finding an engrossing joy in each.
+
+The lofty scientific world of which he was an ornament had no points of
+contact with that other and unspeakable half-life. Rumours had been
+bruited, things said in secret by envious and less distinguished men,
+but they had never harmed him. His colleagues hardly understood them and
+cared nothing. His work was all-sufficient; what did it matter if
+smaller people with forked tongues hissed horrors of his private life?
+
+The other circles--the lost slaves of pleasure--knew him well and were
+content. He came into the night-world a welcome guest. They knew nothing
+of his work or fame beyond dim hintings of things too uninteresting for
+them to bother about.
+
+He turned down the Edgeware Road and then into quiet Upper Berkeley
+Street, a big, florid, prosperous-looking man, looking as though the
+world used him well and he was content with all it had to offer.
+
+His house was but a few doors down the street and he went up-stairs to
+dress at once. He intended to dine at home that night.
+
+His dressing-room, out of which a small bedroom opened, was large and
+luxurious. A clear fire glowed upon the hearth; the carpet was soft and
+thick. The great dressing-table with its three-sided mirror was covered
+with brushes and ivory jars, gleaming brightly in the rays of the little
+electric lights which framed the mirror. A huge wardrobe, full of
+clothes neatly folded and put away, suggested a man about town, a dandy
+with many sartorial interests. An arm-chair of soft green leather,
+stamped with red-gold pomegranates, stood by a small black table
+stencilled with orange-coloured bees. On the table stood a cigarette-box
+of finely plaited cream-coloured straw, woven over silver and
+cedar-wood, and with Llwellyn's initials in turquoise on one lid.
+
+He threw off his coat and sank into the chair with a sigh of pleasure at
+the embracing comfort of it. Then his fingers plunged into the tea which
+filled the box on the table and drew out a tiny yellow cigarette.
+
+He smoked in luxurious silence.
+
+He had already half forgotten the menacing letter from Constantine
+Schuabe, the imperative summons to the flat in Bloomsbury Court
+Mansions. This was a moment of intense physical ease. The flavour of his
+saffron Salonika cigarette, a tiny glass of garnet-coloured _cassis_
+which he had poured out, were alike excellent. All day long he had been
+at work on a brilliant monograph dealing with the new Hebrew mosaics.
+Only two other living men could have written it. But his work also had
+fallen out of his brain. At that moment he was no more than a great
+animal, soulless, with the lusts of the flesh pouring round him,
+whispering evil and stinging his blood.
+
+A timid knock fell upon the door outside. It opened and Mrs. Llwellyn
+came slowly in.
+
+The Professor's wife was a tall, thin woman. Her untidy clothes hung
+round her body in unlovely folds. Her complexion was muddy and
+unwholesome; but the unsmiling, withered lips revealed a row of fair,
+white, even teeth. It was in her eyes that one read the secret of this
+lady. They were large and blue, once beautiful, so one might have
+fancied. Now the light had faded from them and they were blurred and
+full of pain.
+
+She came slowly up to her husband's chair, placing one hand timidly upon
+it.
+
+"Oh, is that you?" he said, not brutally, but with a complete and utter
+indifference. "I shall want some dinner at home to-night. I shall be
+going out about ten to a supper engagement. See about it now, something
+light. And tell one of the maids to bring up some hot water."
+
+"Yes, Robert," she said, and went out with no further word, but sighing
+a little as she closed the door quietly.
+
+They had been married fifteen years. For fourteen of them he had hardly
+ever spoken to her except in anger at some household accident. On her
+own private income of six hundred a year she had to do what she could to
+keep the house going. Llwellyn never gave her anything of the thousand a
+year which was his salary at the Museum, and the greater sums he earned
+by his work outside it. She knew no one, the Professor went into none
+but official society, and indeed but few of his colleagues knew that he
+was a married man. He treated the house as a hotel, sleeping there
+occasionally, breakfasting, and dressing. His private rooms were the
+only habitable parts of the house. All the rest was old, faded, and
+without comfort. Mrs. Llwellyn spent most of her life with the two
+servants in the kitchen.
+
+She always swept and tidied her husband's rooms herself. That afternoon
+she had built and coaxed the fire with her own hands.
+
+She slept in a small room at the top of the house, next to the maids,
+for company.
+
+This was her life.
+
+Over the head of the little iron bedstead of her room hung a great
+crucifix.
+
+That was her hope.
+
+When Llwellyn was rioting in nameless places she prayed for him during
+the night. She prayed for him, for herself, and for the two servant
+girls, very simply--that Heaven might receive them all some day.
+
+The maid brought up some dinner for the Professor--a little soup, a
+sole, and some _camembert_.
+
+He ate slowly, and smoked a short light-brown cigar with his coffee.
+Then he bathed, put on evening clothes, dressing himself with care and
+circumspection, and left the house.
+
+In the Edgeware Road he got into a hansom and told the man to drive him
+to Bloomsbury Court Mansions.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE WHISPER
+
+
+Robert Llwellyn paid the cabman outside the main gateway which led into
+the courtyard, and dismissed him.
+
+The Court Mansions were but a few hundred yards from the British Museum
+itself, though he never visited them in the day time. A huge building,
+like a great hotel, rose skyward in a square. In the quadrangle in the
+centre, which was paved with asphalt, was an ornamental fountain
+surrounded by evergreen plants in tubs.
+
+The Professor strode under the archway, his feet echoing in the
+stillness, and passed over the open space, which was brilliantly lit
+with the hectic radiance of arc lamps. He entered one of the doorways,
+and turning to the right of the ground-floor, away from the lift which
+was in waiting to convey passengers to the higher storeys, he stopped at
+No. 15.
+
+He took a latch-key from his pocket, opened the door, and entered. It
+was very warm and close inside, and very silent also. The narrow hall
+was lit by a crimson-globed electric lamp. It was heavily carpeted, and
+thick curtains of plum-coloured plush, edged with round, fluffy balls of
+the same colour, hung over the doors leading into it.
+
+He hung his hat up on a peg, and stood perfectly silent for a moment in
+the warm, scented air. He could hear no sound but the ticking of a
+French clock. The flat was obviously empty; and pulling aside one of
+the curtains, he went into the dining-room.
+
+The place was full of light. Gertrude Hunt, or her maid, had, with
+characteristic carelessness, forgotten to turn off the switches.
+Llwellyn sat down and looked around him. How familiar the place was! The
+casual visitor would have recognised at a glance that the occupant of
+the room belonged to the dramatic profession.
+
+Photographs abounded everywhere. The satinwood overmantel was crowded
+with them in heavy frames of chased silver. Bold enlargements hung on
+the crimson walls; they were upright, and stacked in disorderly heaps
+upon the grand piano.
+
+All were of one woman--a dark Jewish girl with eyes full of a fixed
+fascination, a trained regard of allurement.
+
+The eyes pursued him everywhere; bold and inviting, he was conscious of
+their multitude, and moved uneasily.
+
+The dining-table was in a curious litter. Half-empty cups of egg-shell
+china stood upon a tray of Japanese lacquer inlaid with ivory and
+silver; a cake basket held pink and honey-coloured bon-bons, among which
+some cigarette ends had fallen. Two empty bottles, which had held
+champagne, stood side by side, cheek by jowl, with a gilt tray, on which
+was a miniature methyl lamp and some steel curling tongs.
+
+The arm-chairs were upholstered in pink satin. On one of them was a long
+fawn-coloured tailor-made coat, hanging collar downwards over the back.
+A handful of silver and a tiny gun-metal cigarette case had dropped out
+of a pocket on to the seat of the chair.
+
+The whole place reeked with a well-known perfume--an evil, sickly smell
+of ripe lilies and the acrid smoke of Egyptian tobacco. A frilled
+dressing jacket covered with yellowish lace lay in a tumbled heap upon
+the hearth-rug.
+
+The room would have struck an ordinary visitor with a sense of nausea
+almost like a physical blow. There was something sordidly shameless
+about it. The vulgarest and most material of Circes held sway among all
+this gaudy and lavish disorder. The most sober-living and
+innocent-minded man, brought suddenly into such a place, would have
+known it instantly for what it was, and turned to fly as from a
+pestilence.
+
+A week or two before, a picture of this den had appeared in one of the
+illustrated papers. Underneath the photograph had been printed--
+
+    "THE BOUDOIR OF ONE OF LONDON'S POPULAR FAVOURITES.
+
+    MISS GERTRUDE HUNT AT HOME."
+
+Below had been another picture--"Miss Hunt in her new motor-car." Robert
+Llwellyn had paid four hundred pounds for the machine.
+
+The big man seemed to fit into these surroundings as a hand into a
+glove. In his room at the Museum, on a platform at the Royal Society,
+his intellect always animated his face. In such places his personality
+was eminent, as his work also.
+
+Here he was changed. Silenus was twin to him; he sniffed the perfume
+with pleasure; he stretched himself to the heat and warmth like a great
+cat. He was an integral part of the _mise-en-sc�ne_--lost, and arrogant
+of his degradation.
+
+A key clicked in the lock, there was a rustling of silk, and Gertrude
+Hunt swept into the room.
+
+"So you're come to time, then," she said in a deep, musical voice, but
+spoilt by an unpleasing Cockney twang. "I'm dead tired. The theatre was
+crammed; I had to sing the _Coon of Coons_ twice. Get me a
+brandy-and-soda, Bob. There's a good boy--the decanter's in the
+sideboard."
+
+She threw off her long cloak and sank into a chair. The sticky
+grease-paint of the theatre had hardly been removed. She looked, as she
+said, worn out.
+
+They chatted for a few moments on indifferent subjects, and she lit a
+cigarette. When she took it from her lips, Llwellyn noticed that the end
+was crimsoned by the paint upon them.
+
+"Well," she said at length, "somehow or other you must pay those bills I
+sent on to you. They _must_ be paid. I can't do it. I'm only getting
+twenty-five pounds from the theatre now, and that's just about enough to
+pay my drink bill!"
+
+Llwellyn's face clouded. "I'm just about at my last gasp myself," he
+said. "I'm threatened with bankruptcy as it is."
+
+"Oh, cheer up!" she cried. "Here, have a B. and S. I do hate to hear any
+one talk like that. It gives me the hump at once. Now look here, Bob.
+You know that I like you better than any one else. We've been pals for
+seven or eight years now, and I'd rather have you a thousand times than
+the others. You understand that, don't you?"
+
+He nodded back at her. His face was pleased at her expression of
+affection, at the kindness of this dancing-girl to the great scholar!
+
+"But," she continued, "you know me, and you know that I can't go on
+unless I have what I want all the time. And I want a lot, too. If you
+can't give it me, Bob, it must be some one else--that's all. Captain
+Parker's ready to do anything, any time. He's almost a millionaire, you
+know. Can't you raise any 'oof anyhow? If I'd a thousand at once, and
+another in a week or two, I could manage for a bit. But I _must_ have a
+river-house at Shepperton. That cat, Lulu Wallace, has one, and an
+electric launch and all. What about your German friend--the M.P.? _He's_
+got tons of stuff. Touch him for a bit more."
+
+"Had a letter from him this afternoon," said Llwellyn, "with a demand
+for about fourteen thousand that I owe him now. Threatens to sell me up.
+But there was something which looked brighter at the end of the letter,
+though I couldn't quite make out what he was driving at."
+
+"What was that?"
+
+"The tone of the letter changed; it had been nasty before. He said that
+I could do him a service for which he would not only wipe out the old
+debt, but for which I could get a lot more money."
+
+"You'll go to him at once, Bob, won't you?"
+
+"I suppose I must. There's no way out of it. I can't think, though, how
+I can do him any service. He's a dabbler, an amateur in my own work, but
+he's not going to pay a good many thousands for any help in _that_."
+
+"Let it alone till you find out," she said, with the instinctive dislike
+of her class to the prolonged discussion of anything unpleasant. She got
+up and rang the bell for her maid and supper.
+
+For some reason Llwellyn could eat nothing. A weight oppressed him--a
+presage of danger and disaster. The unspeakable mental torments that the
+vicious man who is highly educated undergoes--torments which assail him
+in the very act and article of his pleasures--have never been adequately
+described. "What a frail structure his honours and positions were," he
+thought as the woman chatted of the _coulisses_ and the blackguard news
+of the _demi-monde_. His indulgent life had acted on the Professor with
+a dire physical effect. His nerves were unstrung and he became
+childishly superstitious. The slightest hint of misfortune set his brain
+throbbing with a horrid fear. The spectre of overwhelming disaster was
+always waiting, and he could not exorcise it.
+
+The two accidental and trivial facts that the knives at his place were
+crossed, and that he spilt the salt as he was passing it to his
+mistress, set him crossing himself with nervous rapidity.
+
+The girl laughed at him, but she was interested nevertheless. For the
+moment they were on an intellectual level. He explained that the sign of
+the Cross was said to avert misfortune, and she imitated him clumsily.
+
+Llwellyn thought nothing of it at the time, but the meaningless travesty
+came back afterwards when he thought over that eventful night.
+
+Surely the holy sign of God's pain was never so degraded as now.
+
+Their conversation grew fitful and strained. The woman was physically
+tired by her work at the theatre, and the dark cloud of menace crept
+more rapidly into the man's brain. The hour grew late. At last Llwellyn
+rose to go.
+
+"You'll get the cash somehow, dear, won't you?" she said with tired
+eagerness.
+
+"Yes, yes, Gertie," he replied. "I suppose I can get it somehow. I'll
+get home now. If it's a clear night I shall walk home. I'm
+depressed--it's liver, I suppose--and I need exercise."
+
+"Have a drink before you go?"
+
+"No, I've had two, and I can't take spirits at this time."
+
+He went out with a perfunctory and uninterested kiss. She came to the
+archway with him.
+
+London was now quite silent in its most mysterious and curious hour.
+The streets were deserted, but brilliantly lit by the long row of lamps.
+
+They stood talking for a moment or two in the quadrangle.
+
+"Queer!" she said; "queer, isn't it, just now? I walked back from the
+Covent Garden ball once at this time. Makes you feel lonesome. Well, so
+long, Bob. I shall have a hot bath and go to bed."
+
+The Professor's feet echoed loudly on the flags as he approached the
+open space. Never had he seemed to hear the noises of his own progress
+so clearly before. It was disconcerting, and emphasised the fact of his
+sole movement in this lighted city of the dead.
+
+On the island in the centre of the cross-roads he suddenly caught sight
+of a tall policeman standing motionless under a lamp. The fellow seemed
+a figure of metal hypnotised by the silence.
+
+Llwellyn walked onwards, when, just as he was passing the Oxford Music
+Hall, he became conscious of quick footsteps behind him. He turned
+quickly, and a man came up. He was of middle size, with polite, watchful
+eyes and clean shaven.
+
+The stranger put his hand into the pocket of his neat, unobtrusive black
+overcoat and drew out a letter.
+
+"For you, sir," he said in calm, ordinary tones.
+
+The Professor stared at him in uncontrollable surprise and took the
+envelope, opening it under a lamp. This was the note. He recognised the
+handwriting at once.
+
+     "HOTEL CECIL.
+
+     "DEAR LLWELLYN,--Kindly excuse the suddenness of my request and
+     come down to the Cecil with my valet. I have sent him to meet you.
+     I want to settle our business to-night, and I am certain that we
+     shall be able to make some satisfactory arrangement. I know you do
+     not go to bed early.--Most sincerely yours,
+
+          "CONSTANTINE SCHUABE."
+
+"This is a very sudden request," he said to the servant rather
+doubtfully, but somewhat reassured by the friendly signature of the
+note. "Why, it's two o'clock in the morning!"
+
+"Extremely sorry to trouble you, sir," replied the valet civilly, "but
+my master's strict orders were that I should find you and deliver the
+note. He told me that you would probably be visiting at Bloomsbury Court
+Mansions, so I waited about, hoping to meet you. I brought the _coup�_,
+sir, in case we should not be able to get you a cab."
+
+Following the direction of his glance, Llwellyn saw that a small
+rubber-tired brougham to seat two people was coming slowly down the
+road. The coachman touched his hat as the Professor got in, and, turning
+down Charing Cross Road, in a few minutes they drove rapidly into the
+courtyard of the hotel.
+
+Schuabe had not been established at the Cecil for any length of time.
+Though he owned a house in Curzon Street, this was let for a long period
+to Miss Mosenthal, his aunt, and he had hitherto lived in chambers at
+the Albany.
+
+But he found the life at the hotel more convenient and suited to his
+temperament. His suite of rooms was one of the most costly even in that
+great river palace of to-day, but such considerations need never enter
+into his life.
+
+The utter unquestioned freedom of such a life, its entire liberation
+from any restraint or convention, suited him exactly.
+
+Llwellyn had never visited Schuabe in his private apartments before at
+any time. As he was driven easily to the meeting he nerved himself for
+it, summoning up all his resolution. He swept aside the enervating
+influences of the last few hours.
+
+Schuabe was waiting in the large sitting-room with balconies upon which
+he could look down upon the embankment and the river. It was his
+favourite among all the rooms of the suite.
+
+He looked gravely and also a little curiously at the Professor as he
+entered the room. There was a question in his eyes; the guest had a
+sensation of being measured and weighed with some definite purpose.
+
+The greeting was cordial enough. "I am very sorry, Llwellyn, to catch
+you suddenly like this," Schuabe said, "but I should like to settle the
+business between us without delay. I have certain proposals to make you,
+and if we agree upon them there will be much to consider, as the thing
+is a big one. But before we talk of this let me offer you something to
+eat."
+
+The Professor had recovered his hunger. The chill of the night air, the
+sudden excitement of the summons, and, though he did not realise it, the
+absence of patchouli odours in his nostrils, had recalled an appetite.
+
+The space and air of the huge room, with its high roof, was soothing
+after Bloomsbury Court Mansions.
+
+Supper was spread for two on a little round table by the windows.
+Schuabe ate little, but watched the other with keen, detective eyes,
+talking meanwhile of ordinary, trivial things. Nothing escaped him, the
+little gleam of pleasure in Llwellyn's eyes at the freshness of the
+caviare, the Spanish olives he took with his partridge--rejecting the
+smaller French variety--the impassive watchful eyes saw it all.
+
+It was too late for coffee, Llwellyn said, when the man brought it, in a
+long-handled brass pan from Constantinople, but he took a _k�mmel_
+instead.
+
+The two men faced each other on each side of the table. Both were
+smoking. For a moment there was silence; the critical time was at hand.
+Then Schuabe spoke. His voice was cold and steady and very businesslike.
+As he talked the voice seemed to wrap round Llwellyn like steel bands.
+There was something relentless and inevitable about it; bars seemed
+rising as he spoke.
+
+"I am going to be quite frank with you, Llwellyn," he said, "and you
+will find it better to be quite frank with me."
+
+He took a paper from the pocket of his smoking jacket and referred to it
+occasionally.
+
+"You owe me now about fourteen thousand pounds?"
+
+"Yes, it is roughly that."
+
+"Please correct me if I am wrong in any point. Your salary at the
+British Museum is a thousand pounds a year, and you make about fifteen
+hundred more."
+
+"Yes, about that, but how do you----"
+
+"I have made it my business to know everything, Professor. For example,
+they are about to offer you knighthood."
+
+Llwellyn stirred uneasily, and the hand which stretched out for another
+cigarette shook a little.
+
+"I need hardly point out to you," the cold words went on, and a certain
+sternness began to enforce them, "I need hardly point out that if I were
+to take certain steps, your position would be utterly ruined."
+
+"Bankruptcy need not entirely ruin a man."
+
+"It would ruin you. You see _I know where the money has gone_. Your
+private tastes are nothing to me, and it is not my business if you
+choose to spend a fortune on a cocotte. But in your position, as the
+very mainspring and arm of the Higher Criticism of the Bible, the
+revelations which would most certainly be made would ruin you
+irreparably. Your official posts would all go at once, your name would
+become a public scandal everywhere. In England one may do just what one
+likes if only one does not in any way, by reason of position or
+attainments, belong to the nation. You _do_ belong to the nation. You
+can never defy public opinion. With the ethical point of view I have
+nothing personally to do. But to speak plainly, in the eyes of the great
+mass of English people you would be stamped as an irredeemably vicious
+man, if everything came out. That is what they would call you. At one
+blow everything--knighthood, honour, place--all would flash away.
+Moreover, you would have to give up the other side of your life. There
+would be no more suppers with Phryne or rides to Richmond in the new
+motor-car."
+
+He laughed, a low, contemptuous laugh which stung. Llwellyn's face had
+grown pale. His large, white fingers picked uneasily at the table-cloth.
+
+His position was very clearly shown to him, with greater horror and
+vividness than ever it had come to him before, even in his moments of
+acutest depression.
+
+The overthrow would be indeed utter and complete. With the greedy
+imagination of the sensualist he saw himself living in some cheap
+foreign town, Bruges perhaps, or Brussels, upon his wife's small income,
+bereft alike of work and pleasure.
+
+"All you say is true," he murmured as the other made an end. "I am in
+your power. It is best to be plain about these things. What is your
+alternative?"
+
+"My alternative, if you accept it, will mean certain changes to you.
+First of all, it will be necessary for you to obtain a year's leave from
+the British Museum. I had thought of asking you to resign your position,
+but that will not be necessary, I think, now. This can be arranged with
+a specialist easily enough. Even if your health does not really warrant
+it, a word from me to Sir James Fyfe will manage that. You will have to
+travel. In return for your services and your absolute secrecy--though
+when you hear my proposals you will realise that perhaps in the whole
+history of the world never was secrecy so important to any man's
+safety--I will do as follows. I will wipe off your debt at once. I will
+pay you ten thousand pounds in cash this week, and during the year, as
+may be agreed upon between us, I will make over forty thousand pounds
+more to you. In all fifty thousand pounds, exclusive of your debt."
+
+His voice had not been raised, nor did it show any excitement during
+this tremendous proposal. The effect on Llwellyn was very different. He
+rose from his chair, trembling with excitement, staring with bloodshot
+eyes at the beautiful chiselled face below.
+
+"You--you _mean_ it?" he said huskily.
+
+The millionaire made a single confirmatory gesture.
+
+Then the whole magnitude and splendour of the offer became gradually
+plain to him in all its significance.
+
+"I suppose," he said, "that, as the payment is great, the risk is
+commensurate."
+
+"There will be none if you do what I shall ask properly. Only two other
+men living would do it, and, first and foremost, you will have to guard
+against _their_ vigilance."
+
+"Then, in God's name, what do you ask?" Llwellyn almost shouted. The
+tension was almost unbearable.
+
+Schuabe rose from his seat. For the first time the Professor saw that he
+was terribly agitated. His eyes glowed, the apple in his throat worked
+convulsively.
+
+"_You are to change the history of the world!_"
+
+He drew Llwellyn into the very centre of the room, and held him firmly
+by the elbows. Tall as the Professor was, Schuabe was taller, and he
+bent and whispered into the other's ear for a full five minutes.
+
+There was no sound in the room but the low hissing of his sibilants.
+
+Llwellyn's face became white, and then ashen grey. His whole body seemed
+to shrink from his clothes; he trembled terribly.
+
+Then he broke away from his host and ran to the fireplace with an odd,
+jerky movement, and sank cowering into an arm-chair, filled with an
+unutterable dread.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As morning stole into the room the Professor took a bundle of bills and
+acknowledgements from Schuabe and thrust them into the fire with a great
+sob of relief.
+
+Then he turned into a bedroom and sank into the deep slumber of absolute
+exhaustion.
+
+He did not go to the Museum that day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+LAST WORDS AT WALKTOWN
+
+
+The great building of the Walktown national schools blazed with light.
+Every window was a patch of vivid orange in the darkness of the walls.
+The whole place was pervaded by a loud, whirring hum of talk and
+laughter and an incredible rattle of plates and saucers.
+
+In one of the classrooms down-stairs Helena Byars, with a dozen other
+ladies of the parish, presided over a scene of intense activity. Huge
+urns of tea ready mixed with the milk and sugar, were being carried up
+the stone stairs to the big schoolroom by willing hands. Piles of thick
+sandwiches of ham, breakfast-cups of mustard, hundreds of slices of
+moist wedge-shaped cake covered the tables, lessening rapidly as they
+were carried away to the crowded rooms above.
+
+A Lancashire church tea-party was in full swing, for this was the
+occasion when Basil Gortre was to say an official farewell to the people
+among whom he had worked in the North.
+
+In the tea-room itself several hundred people were making an enormous
+meal at long tables, under flaring, naked gas-lights, which sent
+shimmering vapours of heat up to the pitch-pine beams of the room above.
+
+On the walls of the schoolroom hung long, map-like pictures, heavily
+glazed. Some of them were representations of foreign animals, or trees
+and plants, with the names printed below each in thick black type.
+Others represented scenes from the life of Christ, and though somewhat
+stiff and wooden, showed clearly the immense strides that educational
+art has taken during the past few years.
+
+At one end of the room was a platform running along its length. Some
+palms and tree-ferns in pots, chairs, a grand piano, and some music
+stands, promised a concert when tea should be over.
+
+All the ladies of the parish were acting as attendants, or presiding at
+the urns on each table. There could be no doubt that the people were in
+a state of high good humour and enjoyment. Every now and again a great
+roar of laughter would break through the prevailing hum from one table
+or another. Despite the almost stifling heat and a mixed odour of
+humanity and ham, which a sensitive person might have shrunk from, the
+rough, merry Lancashire folk were happy as may be.
+
+Basil Gortre, in his long, black coat, his skin somewhat pale from his
+long illness, walked from table to table, spending a few minutes at
+each. His face was wreathed in perpetual smiles, and roars of laughter
+followed each sally of his wit, a homely cut-and-thrust style of humour
+adapted to his audience. The fat mothers of families, wives of
+prosperous colliers and artisans, with their thick gold earrings and
+magenta frocks, beamed motherhood and kindliness at him. The
+Sunday-school teachers giggled and blushed with pleasure when he spoke.
+
+The vicar, smiling paternally as was his wont, walked up and down the
+gangways also, toying with the _pince-nez_ at his breast, and very
+successfully concealing the fact from every one that he was by no means
+in the seventh heaven of happiness. Tea-parties, so numerous and popular
+in the North, were always somewhat of a trial to him.
+
+Basil and Mr. Byars met in the middle of the room when the tea was
+nearly over. Tears were gleaming in the eyes of the younger man.
+
+"It is hard to leave them all," he said. "How good and kind they are,
+how hearty! And these are the people I thought disliked me and
+misunderstood me. I resented what I thought was a vulgar familiarity and
+a coarse dislike. But how different they are beneath the surface!"
+
+"They have warm, loyal hearts, Basil," said the vicar. "It is a pity
+that such uncouth manners and exteriors should go with them. Surface
+graces may not mean much, but there is no doubt they have a tremendous
+influence over the human mind. During your illness the whole parish
+thought of little else, I really believe. And to-night you will have
+very practical evidence of their friendship. You know, of course, that
+there is going to be a presentation?"
+
+"Yes. I couldn't help knowing that much, though I wish they wouldn't."
+
+"It is very good of them. Now I shall call for grace."
+
+The vicar made his way on to the platform and loudly clapped his hands.
+The tumult died suddenly away into silence, punctuated here and there by
+a belated rattle of a teacup and the spasmodic choking of some one
+endeavouring to bolt a large piece of cake in a hurry.
+
+"We will now sing grace," Mr. Byars said in a clear and audible
+voice,--"the _Old Hundred_, following our usual custom."
+
+As he spoke a little, bearded man in a frock-coat clambered up beside
+him. This was Mr. Cuthbert, the organist of the parish church. The
+little man pulled a tuning-fork from his pocket and struck it on the
+back of a chair.
+
+Then he held it to his ear for a moment. The people had all risen, and
+the room was now quite silent.
+
+"La!" sang the little organist, giving the note in a long, melodious
+call.
+
+He raised his hand, gave a couple of beats in the air, and the famous
+old hymn burst out royally. The great volume of sound seemed too fierce
+and urgent even for that spacious room. It pressed against the ear-drums
+almost with pain, though sung with the perfect time and tune which are
+the heritage of the sweet-voiced North-country folk:--
+
+    "_All people that on earth do dwell,
+      Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice!_"
+
+How hearty it was! How strong and confident!
+
+As Basil Gortre listened his heart expanded in love and fellowship
+towards these brother Christians. The dark phantoms which had rioted in
+his sick brain during the long weeks of his illness lay dead and
+harmless now. The monstrous visions of a conventional and formal
+Christianity, covering a world of secret and gibing atheism, seemed
+incredibly far removed from the glorious truth, as these strong, homely
+people sang a full-voiced _ave_ to the great brooding Trinity of Power
+and Love unseen, but all around them.
+
+Who was he to be refined and too dainty for his uses? There seemed
+nothing incongruous in the picture before his eyes. The litter of broken
+ham, the sloppy cups, the black-coated men with brilliant sky-blue satin
+ties, the women with thick gnarled hands and clothes the colour of a
+copper kettle, what were they now but his very own brethren, united in
+this burst of praise?
+
+And he joined in the doxology with all his heart and voice, his clear
+tenor soaring joyously above the rest:
+
+    "_To FATHER, SON, and HOLY GHOST,
+      The GOD Whom Heaven and earth adore,
+    From men and from the Angel-host
+      Be praise and glory evermore. Amen._"
+
+It ceased with suddenness. There was the satisfied silence of a second,
+and then the attendant helpers, assisted by the feasters, fell swiftly
+upon the tables. Cloths and crockery vanished like snow melting in
+sunlight, and as each table was laid bare it was turned up by a patent
+arrangement, and became a long bench with a back, which was added to the
+rows of seats facing the platform. As each iron-supported seat was
+pushed noisily into its place it was filled up at once with a laughing
+crowd, replete but active, smacking anticipatory chops over the
+entertainment and speech-making to come.
+
+Mr. Cuthbert, a painstaking pianist, whose repertoire was noisily
+commonplace, opened the concert with a solo.
+
+Songs and recitations followed. All were well received by an audience
+which was determined to enjoy itself, but it was obvious that the real
+event of the gathering was eagerly awaited.
+
+At last the eventful moment arrived. A table covered with green baize
+and bearing some objects concealed by a cloth was carried on the
+platform, and a row of chairs placed on either side of it.
+
+The vicar, Basil, a strange clergyman, and a little group of
+black-coated churchwardens and sidesmen filed upon the platform amid
+tumultuous cheering and clapping of hands.
+
+Mr. Pryde, the solicitor, rose first, and pronounced a somewhat pompous
+but sincere eulogy upon Basil's work and life at Walktown, which was
+heard in an absolute and appreciative silence, only broken by the
+scratching pencil of the reporter from a local paper.
+
+Then he called upon the vicar to make the presentation.
+
+Basil advanced to the table.
+
+"My dear friends and fellow-workers," said Mr. Byars, "I am not going to
+add much to what Mr. Pryde has said. As most of you know, Mr. Gortre
+stands and is about to stand to me in even a nearer and more intimate
+relation than that of assistant priest to his parish priest. But before
+giving Mr. Gortre the beautiful presents which your unbounded generosity
+has provided, and in order that you may have as little speech-making
+from me as possible, I want to take this opportunity of introducing the
+Reverend Henry Nuttall to you to-night."
+
+He bowed towards the stranger clergyman, a pleasant, burly, clean-shaven
+man.
+
+"I am going from among you for a couple of months, as I believe you have
+been told, and Mr. Nuttall is to take my place as your temporary pastor
+for that time. My doctor has ordered me rest for a time. So my daughter
+and myself, together with Mr. Gortre, who sadly needs change after his
+illness, and who is not to take up his duties in London for several
+weeks, are going away together for a holiday. And now I will simply ask
+Mr. Gortre to accept this tea-service and watch in the name of the
+congregation of St. Thomas as a token of their esteem and good-will."
+
+He pulled the cloth away and displayed some glittering silver vessels.
+Then he handed the agitated young man a gold watch in a leather case.
+
+Basil faced the shouting, enthusiastic crowd, staring through dimmed
+eyes at the long rows of animated faces.
+
+When there was a little silence he began to speak in a voice of great
+emotion.
+
+Very simply and earnestly he thanked them for their good-will and
+kindness.
+
+"This may be," he said, "the last time I shall ever have the privilege
+and pleasure of speaking to you. I want to give you one last message. I
+want to urge one and all here to-night to do one thing. Keep your faith
+unspotted, unstained by doubts, uninfluenced by fears. Do that and all
+will be well with you here and hereafter." His voice sank a full tone
+and he spoke with marked emphasis. "I have sometimes thought and felt of
+late that possibly the time may be at hand, we who are here to-night may
+witness a time, when the Powers and Principalities of evil will make a
+great and determined onslaught upon the Christian Faith. I may not read
+the signs of the times aright, my premonitions--for they have sometimes
+amounted even to that--may be unfounded or imaginary. But if such a time
+shall come, if the 'horror of great darkness,' a spiritual horror, that
+we read of in Genesis, descend upon the world and envelop it in its
+gloom and terror, oh! let us have faith. Keep the light burning
+steadily. 'Let nothing disturb thee; let nothing affright thee. All
+passeth: God only remaineth.' And now, dear brothers and sisters in the
+Holy Faith, thank you, God bless you, and farewell."
+
+There was a tense silence as his voice dropped to a close.
+
+Here and there a woman sobbed.
+
+There was something peculiar about his warning. He spoke almost in
+prophecy, as if he _knew_ of some terror coming, and saw its advance
+from afar. His face, pale and thin from fever, his bright, earnest eyes,
+not the glittering eyes of a fanatic, but the saner, wiser ones of the
+earnest single-minded man, had an immense influence with them there.
+
+And that night, as they trudged home to mean dwellings, or suburban
+villas, or rolled away in carriages, each person heard the intense,
+quiet voice warning them of the future, exhorting them to be steadfast
+in the Faith.
+
+Seed which bore most fragrant blossom in the time which, though they
+knew it not, was close at hand was sown that night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A DINNER AT THE PANNIER D'OR
+
+
+Helena stood with her hand raised to her eyes, close by the port
+paddle-box, staring straight in front of her at a faint grey line upon
+the horizon.
+
+A stiff breeze was blowing in the Channel, though the sun was shining
+brightly on the tossing waters, all yellow-green with pearl lights, like
+a picture by Henry Moore.
+
+By the tall, graceful figure of the girl, swaying with the motion of the
+steamer and bending gracefully to the sudden onslaughts of the wind,
+stood a thick-set man of middle height, dressed in a tweed suit. His
+face was a strong one. Heavy reddish eyebrows hung over a pair of clear
+grey eyes, intellectual and kindly. The nose was beak-like and the
+large, rugged, red moustache hid the mouth.
+
+This was Harold Spence, the journalist with whom Gortre was to live
+after the holiday was over and he began his work in Bloomsbury. Spence
+was snatching a few days from his work in Fleet Street, in order to
+accompany Gortre and Mr. and Miss Byars to Dieppe. It had been his first
+introduction to the vicar and his daughter.
+
+"So that is really France, Mr. Spence!" said Helena; "the very first
+view of a foreign country I've ever had. I don't suppose you've an idea
+of what I'm feeling now? It seems so wonderful, something I've been
+waiting for all my life."
+
+Spence smiled kindly, irradiating his face with good humour as he did
+so.
+
+"Well, _my_ sensations or emotions at present, Miss Byars, are entirely
+confined to wondering whether I am going to be seasick or not."
+
+"Don't speak of it!" said a thin voice, a voice from which all the blood
+seemed to be drained, and, turning, they saw the vicar at their elbow.
+
+His face was livid, his beard hung in lank dejection, a sincere misery
+poured from his pathetic eyes.
+
+"Basil," he said, "Basil is down in the saloon eating greasy cold
+chicken and ham and drinking pale ale! I told him it was an outrage--"
+His feelings overcame him and he staggered away towards the stern.
+
+"Poor father," said the girl. "He never could stand the sea, you know.
+But he very soon gets all right when he is on dry land again. Oh, look!
+that must be a church tower! I can see it quite distinctly, and the sun
+on the roofs of the houses!"
+
+"That is St. Jacques," said Spence, "and that dome some way to the
+right, is St. Remy. Farthest of all to the right, on the cliffs, you can
+just see the ch�teau where the garrison is."
+
+Helena gazed eagerly and became silent in her excitement. Basil, who
+came up from the saloon and joined them, the healthy colour beginning to
+glow out on his cheeks once more, watched her tenderly. There was
+something childishly sweet in her delight as the broad, tub-like boat
+kicked its way rapidly towards the quaint old foreign town.
+
+In smoky Walktown he had not often seen her thus. Life was a more sober
+thing there, and her nature was graver than that of many girls, attuned
+to her environment. But, at the beginning of this holiday time, under a
+brilliant spring sun, which she was already beginning to imagine had a
+foreign charm about it, she too was happy and in a holiday mood.
+
+Basil pulled out his new and glorious gold watch, which had replaced the
+battered old gun-metal one he usually wore. Though not a poor man, he
+was simple in all his tastes, and the new toy gave him a recurring and
+childish pleasure whenever he looked at it.
+
+"We ought to be in in about twenty minutes," he said. "Have you noticed
+that the tossing of the ship has almost stopped? The land protects us.
+How clear the town is growing! I wonder if you will remember any of your
+French, Helena? I almost wish I was like you, seeing a foreign country
+for the first time. Spence is the real _voyageur_ though. He's been all
+over the world for his paper."
+
+The vicar came up to them again, just as there was a general movement of
+the passengers towards the deck. A hooting cry from the steam whistle
+wailed over the water and the boat began to move slowly.
+
+In a few more minutes they had passed the breakwater and were gliding
+slowly past the wharves towards the landing-stage.
+
+Suddenly Helena clutched hold of Basil's arm.
+
+"O Basil," she whispered, "how beautiful--look! Guarding the harbour!"
+
+He turned and followed the direction of her glance.
+
+An enormous crucifix, more than life size, planted in the ground, rose
+from the low cliffs on the right for all entering the harbour to see.
+
+They watched the symbol in silence as the passengers chattered on every
+side and gathered up their rugs and hand-bags.
+
+Gortre slipped his arm through Helena's.
+
+The reminder was so vivid and sudden it affected them powerfully. They
+were both people of the world, living in it and enjoying the pleasures
+of life that came in their way. Gortre was not one of those narrow, and
+even ill-bred, young priests with a text for ever on his lips, a sort of
+inopportune concordance, with an unpleasant flavour of omniscience. His
+religion and Helena's was too deep and fibrous a thing for commonplaces
+about it. It did not continually effervesce within and break forth in
+minute and constant bubbles, losing all its sincerity and beauty by the
+vulgar wear and tear of a verbal trick.
+
+But it was always and for ever with him a transmuting force which
+changed his life each hour in a way of which the nominal believer has no
+conception.
+
+A letter he had once written to Helena during a holiday compressed all
+his belief, and his joy in his belief, into a few short lines. Thus had
+run the sincere and simple statement, unadorned by any effort of
+literary grace to give it point and force:--
+
+     "Day by day as your letters come I go on saying my prayers for you,
+     and with you, in fresh faith and confidence. You know that I
+     absolutely trust the Lord Jesus Christ, who is, I believe, the God
+     who made the worlds, and that I pray to Him continually, relying on
+     His promises.
+
+     "I keep on reading all sides of the question, as your father does
+     also, and while admitting all that honest criticism and sincere
+     intellectual doubt can teach me, and freely conceding that there is
+     no infallible record in the New Testament, I grow more and more
+     convinced that the Gospels and Paul's letters relate _facts_ and
+     not imaginations or hallucinations. And the more strongly my
+     intellect is convinced, so much more does my heart delight in the
+     love of God, who has given Himself for me. How magnificent is that
+     finale of St. John's Gospel! 'Thomas saith unto Him, My Lord and my
+     God.' And, then, how exquisite is the supplement about the
+     manifestation at the lake side! Imagine the skill of the literary
+     man who INVENTED that! Fancy such a man existing in A.D. 150 or
+     thereabouts! I see Mrs. Humphry Ward says 'it was a dream which the
+     old man at Ephesus related, and his disciples thought it was fact.'
+     And _she_ is a literary person!"
+
+So, as the lovers glided slowly past the high symbol of God's pain, the
+worship in their hearts found but little utterance on their lips, though
+they were deeply touched.
+
+It seemed a good omen to welcome them to France!
+
+Spence remained to look after the luggage and to see it through the
+Customs, and the three others resolved to walk to the rooms which they
+had taken in the Faubourg de la Barre on the steep hill behind the
+ch�teau.
+
+They passed over the railway line in the middle of the road, and past
+the _caf�s_ which cluster round the landing-stage, into the quaint
+market-place, with the great Gothic Cathedral Church of St. Jacques upon
+one side, and the colossal statue of Duquesne surrounded by baskets of
+spring flowers in the centre.
+
+To Helena Byars that simple progress was one of unalloyed excitement and
+delight. The small and wiry soldiers in their unfamiliar uniforms; an
+officer sipping vermouth in a _caf�_, with spurs, sword, and helmet
+shining in the sun; two black priests, with huge furry hats--all the
+moving colour of the scene gave her new and delightful sensations.
+
+"It's all so different!" she said breathlessly. "So bright and gay. What
+is that red thing over the tobacco shop, and that little brass dish over
+the hair-dresser's? Think of Walktown or Salford, now!"
+
+The house in the Faubourg de la Barre was kept by a Madame Varnier, who
+spoke English well, and was in the habit of letting her rooms to
+English people. A late _d�jeuner_ was ready for them.
+
+The omelette was a revelation to Helena, and the _rognons saut�s_ filled
+her with respect for such cooking, but she was impatient, nevertheless,
+to be out and sight-seeing.
+
+The vicar was tired, and proposed to stay indoors with the _Spectator_,
+and Spence had some letters to write, so Basil and Helena went out
+alone.
+
+"The vicar and I will meet you at six," Spence said, "at the Caf� des
+Tribuneaux, that big place with the gabled roof in the centre of the
+town. At six the _l'heure verre_ begins, the time when everyone goes out
+for an _ap�ritif_, the appetiser before dinner; afterwards I'll take you
+to dine at the Pannier d'Or, a jolly little restaurant I know of, and in
+the evening we'll go to the Casino."
+
+Madame Varnier, the _patronne_, was in her kitchen sitting-room at the
+bottom of the stairs, and they looked in through the hatchway as they
+passed to tell her that they were not dining indoors.
+
+On the floor a little girl, with pale yellow hair, an engaging button of
+three, was playing with a live rabbit, plump and mouse-coloured.
+
+"How sweet!" said Helena, who was in a mood which made her ready to
+appreciate everything. "Look at the little darling with its pet. Has
+baby had the rabbit long, Madame Varnier?"
+
+The Frenchwoman smiled lavishly. "Est-elle gentille l'enfant! hein! I
+bring the lapin chez moi from the magazin yesterday. There was very good
+lapins yesterday. I buy when I can. Je trouverai �a plus prudent. He is
+for the d�jeuner of mademoiselle to-morrow. I take him so,"--she caught
+up the animal and suited the action to the word,--"I press his throat
+till his mouth open, and I pour a little cognac into him. Il se meurt,
+and the flesh have a delicious flavour from the cognac!"
+
+"How perfectly horrible!" said Helena as they came out into the street
+and walked down the hill. "Fancy seeing one's lunch alive and playing
+about like that, and then killing it with brandy, too! What pigs these
+French people are!"
+
+Soon after the cool gloom of St. Remy enveloped them. Under the big dome
+they lingered for a time, walking from chapel to chapel, where nuns were
+praying. But it dulled them rather, and they had more pleasure in the
+grey and Gothic twilight of St. Jacques. Here the eye was uplifted by
+more noble lines, there was a more medi�val and romantic feeling about
+the place.
+
+"We will come here to Mass on Sunday," said Basil. "I shall not go to
+the English Church at all. I never do abroad, and the vicar agrees with
+me. You see one belongs to the Catholic Church in England. In France one
+belongs to it, too. The 'Protestant' Church, as they call it, with an
+English clergyman, is, of course, a Dissenting church here."
+
+"I see your point," said Helena, "though I don't know that I quite agree
+with it. But I have never been to a Roman Catholic church in England,
+and I want to see some of the services. 'Bowing down in the House of
+Rimmon,' Mr. Philemon would call it at Walktown."
+
+They turned down a narrow street of quiet houses, and came out on to the
+Plage. There were a good many people walking up and down the great
+promenade from the Casino to the harbour mouth. An air of fulness and
+prosperity floated round the magnificent hotels which faced the sea.
+
+It was a spring season, owing to the unusual mildness of the weather,
+and Dieppe was full of people. The Casino was opened temporarily after
+the long sleep of the winter, and a company was performing there,
+having come on from the theatre at Rouen.
+
+"What a curious change from the churches and market-place," said Helena.
+"This is tremendously smart and fashionable. How well-dressed every one
+is. Look at that red-haired woman with the furs. This is being quite in
+the world again."
+
+They began a steady walk towards the pier and lighthouse. The wind was
+fresh, though not troublesome, and at five o'clock the sun, low in the
+sky, was still bright, and could give his animation to the picture.
+
+The two young people amused themselves by speculations about the varied
+types of people who passed and repassed them. Gortre wore a suit of very
+dark grey, with a short coat and an ordinary tweed cap--his holiday
+suit, he called it--and, except for his clerical collar, there was
+little to show his calling. He was pleased, with a humorous sense of
+proprietorship, a kind of vicarious vanity, to notice the attention and
+admiration excited by the beautiful English girl at his side.
+
+Helena Byars held her own among the cosmopolitan crowd of women who
+walked on the Plage. Her beauty was Saxon, very English, and not of a
+type that is always appreciated to its full value on the Continent, but
+it shone the more from Latin contrasts, and could not escape remark.
+
+Every now and again they turned, at distances of a quarter of a mile or
+so, and during the recurrence of their beat they began to notice a
+person whom they met several times, coming and going.
+
+He was an enormously big man, broad and tall, dressed expensively and
+with care. His size alone was sufficient to mark him out of the usual,
+but his personality seemed to them no less arresting and strange.
+
+His large, smooth face was fat, the eyes small and brilliant, with
+heavy pouches under them. His whole manner was a trifle florid and
+Georgian. Basil said that he seemed to belong to the Prince Regent's
+period in some subtle way. "I can imagine him on the lawns at Brighton
+or dining in the Pavilion," he said. "What a sensual, evil face the man
+has! Of course it may mean nothing, though. The Bishop of ----, one of
+the saints of the time, whose work on the Gospels is the most wonderful
+thing ever done in the way of Christian apologetics, has a face like one
+of the grotesque devils carved on the roof of Notre Dame or Lincoln
+Cathedral. But this man seems by his face to have no soul. One can't
+feel it is there, as one does, thank God! with most people."
+
+"But what an intellect such a man must have! Look at him now. Look at
+the shape of his head. And besides, you can see it in his face, despite
+its sensuality and materialism. He must be some distinguished person. I
+seem to remember pictures of him, just lately, too, in the illustrated
+papers, only I can't get a name to them. I'm certain he's English, and
+some one of importance."
+
+The big man passed them again with a quiet and swift glance of
+appreciation for Helena. He seemed lonely. Basil and Helena realised
+that he would have welcomed a chance word of greeting, some overture of
+friendship, which is not so impossible between English people
+abroad--even in adjacent Dieppe--as in our own country.
+
+But neither of them responded to the unspoken wish they felt in the
+stranger. They were quite happy with each other, and presently they saw
+him light a cigar and turn into one of the great hotels.
+
+They discussed the man for a few minutes--he had made an odd impression
+on them by his personality--and then found that it was time for the
+rendezvous at the Caf� des Tribuneaux.
+
+By this time dusk was falling, and the sea moaned with a certain
+melancholy. But the town began to be brilliant with electric lights, and
+the florid Moorish building of the Casino was jewelled everywhere.
+
+They turned away to the left, leaving the sea behind them, and, passing
+through a narrow street by the Government tobacco factory, came into the
+town again, and, after a short walk, to the _caf�_.
+
+The place was bright and animated--lights, mirrors, and gilding, the
+stir and movement of the pavement, combined to make a novel and
+attractive picture for the English girl. The night was not cold, and
+they sat under the awning at a little round table watching the merry
+groups with interest. In a few minutes after their arrival they saw
+Spence and the vicar, now quite restored and well, coming towards them.
+They had forborne to order anything before the arrival of their
+companions.
+
+The journalist took them under his wing at once. It amused him to be a
+cicerone to help them to a feeling of being at home. Gortre and Mr.
+Byars had been in Switzerland, and the latter at Rome on one occasion,
+but under the wing of a bishop's son who made his livelihood out of
+personally conducting parties to Continental towns of interest for a
+fixed fee. There was little freedom in these cut-and-dried tours, with
+their lectures _en route_ and the very dinners in the hotel ordered for
+the tourists, and everything so arranged that they need not speak a word
+of any foreign language.
+
+For the vicar, Spence prescribed a _vermouth sec_; Gortre, a courtesy
+invalid, was given a minute glass of an amber-coloured liquid with
+quinine in it--"_Dubonnet_" Spence called it; and Helena had a _sirop_
+of _menthe_.
+
+They were all very happy together in the simple-minded, almost childish,
+way of quiet, intellectual people. Their enjoyment of the novel
+liqueurs, in a small _caf�_ at tourist-haunted Dieppe, was as great as
+that of any sybarite at the Hotel Ritz in Paris, or at a rare dinner at
+Ciro's in Monte Carlo.
+
+Spence ordered an absinthe for himself.
+
+The vicar seemed slightly perturbed. "Isn't that stuff rather dangerous,
+Spence?" he said, shrinking a little from the glass when the waiter
+brought it. "I've heard terrible things of it."
+
+"Oh, I know," said the journalist, laughing, "people call it the French
+national vice and write tirades against it. Of course if it becomes a
+regular habit it is dangerous, and excess in absinthe is worse than most
+things. But one glass taken now and again is a wonderful stomachic and
+positively beneficial. I take one, perhaps, five times in a year and
+like it. But, like all good things, it is terribly abused both by the
+people who use it and those who don't."
+
+Suddenly Helena turned to Gortre.
+
+"Oh, look, Basil!" she said. "There is our friend of the Plage--Quinbus
+Flestrin, the mountain of flesh, you remember your Swift?"
+
+The big stranger, now in evening dress and a heavy fur coat, had just
+come into the _caf�_ and was sitting there with a cigarette and a Paris
+paper. He seemed lost in some sort of anxious speculation--at least so
+it seemed by the drooping of the journal in his massive fingers and the
+set expression of abstraction which lingered in his eyes and spread a
+veil over his countenance.
+
+They had all turned at Helena's exclamation and looked towards the other
+side of the _caf�_, where the man was sitting.
+
+"Why, that's Sir Robert Llwellyn," said Spence.
+
+The vicar looked up eagerly. "The great authority on the antiquities of
+the Holy Land?" he said.
+
+"Yes, that's the man. They knighted him the other day. He's supposed to
+be the greatest living authority, you know."
+
+"Do you know him, then?" asked the vicar.
+
+"Oh, yes," said Spence, carelessly. "One knows every one in my trade. I
+have to. I've often gone to him for information when anything very
+special has been discovered. And I've met him in clubs and at lectures
+or at first nights at the theatre. He is a great play-goer."
+
+"A decent sort of man?" said Gortre in a tone which certainly implied a
+doubt.
+
+Spence hesitated a moment. "Oh, well, I suppose so," he said carelessly.
+"There are tales about his private life, but probably quite untrue. He's
+a man of the world as well as a great scholar, and I suppose the rather
+unusual combination makes people talk. But he is right up at the top of
+the tree,--goes everywhere; and he's just been knighted for his work.
+I'll go over and speak to him."
+
+"If he'll come over," said the vicar, his eyes alight with anticipation
+and the hope of a talk with this famous expert on the subjects nearest
+his own heart, "bring him, _please_. There is nothing I should like
+better than a chat with him. I know his _Modern Discoveries and Holy
+Writ_ almost by heart."
+
+They watched Spence go across to Sir Robert's table. The big man started
+as he was spoken to, looked up in surprise, then smiled with pleasure,
+and extended a welcoming hand. Spence sat down beside him and they were
+soon in the middle of a brisk conversation.
+
+"The poor man looked very bored until Mr. Spence spoke to him," said
+Helena. "Father, I'm sure you'll have your wish. He seems glad to have
+some one to talk to."
+
+She was right. After a minute or two the journalist returned with
+Llwellyn, and the five of them were soon in a full flood of talk.
+
+"I was going to dine alone at my hotel," said the Professor, at length;
+"but Spence says that he knows of a decent restaurant here. I wonder if
+you would let me be one of your party? I'm quite alone in Dieppe for a
+couple of days. I'm waiting for a friend with whom I am going to
+travel."
+
+"Oh, do come, Sir Robert," said the vicar, with manifest pleasure. "Are
+you going to be away from England for long?"
+
+"I have leave from the British Museum for a year," said the Professor.
+"My doctor says that I require absolute rest. I am _en route_ for
+Marseilles and from there to Alexandria."
+
+The Pannier d'Or proved a pleasant little place, and the dinner was
+excellent. The Professor surprised and then amused the others by his
+criticism of the viands. He made the dinner his especial business, sent
+for the cook and had a serious conversation with him, chose the wines
+with extreme care.
+
+His knowledge of the culinary art was enormous, and he treated it with a
+kind of reverence, addressing himself more particularly to Helena.
+
+"Yes, Miss Byars, you must be _most_ careful in the preparation of
+really good crayfish soup. This is excellent. The great secret is to
+flavour with a little lobster spawn and to mix the crumb of a French
+roll with the stock--white stock of course--before you add the powdered
+shells and anchovies."
+
+Many times, despite his impatience to get to deeper and more congenial
+subjects, the vicar smiled at the purring of this gourmet, who seemed to
+prefer a sauce to an inscription and rissoles to research.
+
+But with the special coffee--covered with fine yellow foam and
+sweetened with crystals of amber sugar--the vicar's hour came. Sir
+Robert realised that it was inevitable and with a half sigh gave the
+required opening.
+
+Once started, his manner changed utterly. The mask of materialism peeled
+away from his face, which became younger, brighter, as thought animated
+it, and new, finer lines cames out upon it as knowledge poured from him.
+
+The conversation threatened to be a long one. Spence saw that and
+proposed to go on to the Casino with Helena, leaving the two clergymen
+with Llwellyn. It was when they had gone that the trio settled down
+completely.
+
+It resolved itself at first into a duologue between the two elder men.
+Gortre's knowledge was too general and superficial on these purely
+antiquarian matters to allow him to take much part in it. He sat sipping
+his coffee and listening with keen attention and great enjoyment to this
+talk of experts. He had not liked Llwellyn from the first and could not
+do so even now, but he was forced to recognise the enormous intellectual
+activity and power of the big, purring creature before him.
+
+Step by step the two arch�ologists went over the new discoveries being
+made in the ground between the City Wall of Jerusalem and the Hill of
+"Jeremiah's Grotto." They talked of the blue and purple mosaics found on
+the Mount of Olives, of all that had been done by the English and German
+excavators during the past years.
+
+Gradually the discussion became more intimate and began to touch on
+great issues.
+
+Mr. Byars was in a state of extraordinary interest. His knowledge was
+wide, and Llwellyn early realised this, speaking to him as an equal,
+but beside the Professor's all-embracing achievements it was as nothing.
+The clergyman learnt something fresh, some sudden illuminating point of
+view, some irradiating fact, at every moment.
+
+"I suppose," Mr. Byars said at length, "that the true situation of the
+Holy Sepulchre is still a matter of considerable doubt, Professor. Your
+view would interest me extremely."
+
+"My view," said Llwellyn, with remarkable earnestness and with an
+emphasis which left no doubt about his convictions, "is that the
+Sepulchre has not yet been located."
+
+"And your view is authoritative of course," said Mr. Byars.
+
+The Professor bowed.
+
+"That is as it may be," he said, "but I have no doubt upon the subject.
+The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is quite out of the question. There is
+really no historical evidence for it beyond a foolish dream of the
+Empress Helena, in A.D. 326. The people who _know_ dismiss the
+traditional site at once. Of course it is _generally_ believed, but one
+cannot expect the world at large to be cognisant of the doings of the
+authorities. Canon MacColl has said that the traditional site is the
+real one, and as his name has never been out of the public eye since
+what were called 'The Bulgarian Atrocities,' they are content to follow
+his lead. Then there is the question of the second site, in which a
+great many people believe they have found the true Golgotha and
+Sepulchre. 'The Gordon Tomb,' as it has been called, excited a great
+deal of attention at the time of its discovery. You may remember that I
+went to Jerusalem on behalf of the _Times_ to investigate the matter.
+You may recollect that I proved beyond dispute that the tomb was not
+Jewish at all, but indubitably Christian and long subsequent to the time
+of Christ. As a matter of fact, when the tomb was excavated in 1873 it
+was full of human bones and the mould of decomposed bodies, and there
+were two red-painted crosses on the walls. The tomb was close to a large
+Crusading hospice, and I have no doubt that it was used for the burial
+of pilgrims. Besides, my excavations proved that the second "city wall"
+must have _included_ the new site, so that the Gospel narrative at once
+demolishes the new theory. I embodied twenty-seven other minor proofs in
+my letters to the _Times_ also. No, Mr. Byars, my conviction is that we
+are not yet able to locate in any way the position of Golgotha and the
+Holy Tomb."
+
+"You think that is to come?" asked Gortre.
+
+"_I feel certain_," answered the Professor, with great deliberation and
+meaning--"_I feel certain that we are on the eve of stupendous
+discoveries in this direction_."
+
+His tones were so impressive and so charged with import that the two
+clergymen looked quickly at each other. It seemed obvious that Llwellyn
+was aware of some impending discoveries. He must, they knew, be in
+constant touch with all that was being done in Palestine. Curiously
+enough, his words gave each of them a certain sense of chill, of
+uneasiness. There seemed to be something behind them, something of
+sinister suggestion, which they could not divine or formulate, but
+merely felt as an action upon the nerves.
+
+It was a rare experience to sit with the greatest living authority upon
+a subject, and hear his views--views which it would be folly not to
+accept. His knowledge was so sure and so profound, a sense of power
+flowed from him.
+
+But though both men felt a dim premonition of what his words might
+possibly convey, neither could bring himself to a deliberate question.
+Nor did Llwellyn appear to invite it. During the whole of their talk he
+had sedulously avoided any religious questions. He had dealt solely with
+historical aspects.
+
+His position in the religious world was singular. His knowledge of
+Biblical history was one of its assets, but he was not known definitely
+as a believer.
+
+His attitude had always been absolutely non-committal. He did the work
+he had to do without taking sides.
+
+It had become generally understood that no definite statement of his own
+personal convictions was to be asked or expected from him.
+
+The general consensus of opinion was that Sir Robert Llwellyn was _not_
+a believer in the divinity of Christ; but it was merely an opinion, and
+had never been confirmed by him.
+
+There was rather a tense silence for a short time.
+
+The Professor broke it.
+
+"Let me show you," he said, taking a gold pencil-case from his pocket,
+"a little map which I published at the time of the agitation about
+Gordon's Tomb. I can trace the course of the city walls for you."
+
+He felt in his pocket for some paper on which to make the drawing, and
+took out a letter.
+
+Gortre and the vicar drew their chairs closer.
+
+Suddenly a curious pain shot through Basil's head and all his pulses
+throbbed violently. He experienced a terribly familiar sensation--the
+sick fear and repulsion of the night before his illness in the great
+library. The aroma of some utterly evil and abominable personality
+seemed to come into his brain.
+
+For, as he had looked down at the paper on which the great white fingers
+were now tracing thin lines, he had seen, before Llwellyn turned it
+over, a firm, plain signature, thus:
+
+          Constantine Schuabe
+
+With some excuse about the heat of the room, he left it and went out
+into the night.
+
+His brain was busy with terrible intuitive forebodings, he seemed to be
+caught up in the fringe of some great net, the phantoms of his illness
+came round him once more, the dark air was thick with their
+wings--vague, and because of that more hideous.
+
+He passed the lighted _kiosk_ at the Casino entrance with a white, set
+face.
+
+He was going home to pray.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+INAUGURATION
+
+
+It was at Victoria Station that Basil said good-bye to Helena. Spence
+had been back again in London for a fortnight. Mr. Byars and his
+daughter were to go straight back to Manchester the same day, and Gortre
+was to take possession of his new quarters in Lincoln's Inn and enter on
+his duties at St. Mary's without delay.
+
+It had been a pleasant holiday, they all agreed, as the train brought
+them up from Newhaven; how pleasant they had hardly realised till it was
+all over. They had been all brought more intimately together than ever
+before. Gortre had come to know Mr. Byars with far more completeness
+than had been possible during their busy parochial life at Walktown. The
+elder man's calm and steadfast belief, his wide knowledge and culture,
+the Christian _sanity_ of his life, were never more manifest than in the
+uninterrupted communion of this time of rest and pleasure.
+
+He saw in his future father-in-law such a man as he himself humbly hoped
+that he might become. The impulsiveness of an eager youth had toned down
+into the mature judgment of middle age. The enthusiasms of life's
+springtime had solidified into quiet strength and force, and faith and
+intellect had combined into a deep and immovable conviction. And Mr.
+Byars's was no simple, childlike nature to whom goodness and belief were
+easy, a natural attribute of the man. He was subtle rather, complex,
+and the victory over himself had cost him more than it costs most men.
+So much Gortre realised, and his love and admiration for the vicar were
+tempered with that joyous awe that one fine nature is privileged to feel
+at the contact with another.
+
+To Helena also this time of holiday had been very precious. To mark the
+fervour of her chosen one, the energy he threw into Life, Love, and
+Religion, to find him a _man_ and yet a priest, to follow him in thought
+to the ivory gates of his Ideals--these were her uplifting occupations;
+and to all these as they walked and talked, listened to the music at the
+Casino, explored the ancient forest and castle at Arques, or knelt with
+bowed heads as the sacring bell rang and the priests moved about the
+altar--these had been the united bond of the great knowledge and hope
+they shared together.
+
+After the farewells had been said in the noisy station, and Basil's cab
+drove him rapidly towards his new home, he felt wonderfully ready and
+prepared for his new work.
+
+The moving panorama of Victoria Street, the sudden stately vision of
+Palace Yard, the grandeur of the Embankment--all spoke to the young man
+of a vivid, many-coloured, and pulsating life which was waiting for him
+and his activities. Here, indeed, was a fine battlefield and theatre for
+the Holy War.
+
+The cab moved slowly up Chancery Lane and then turned into the sudden
+quiet of Lincoln's Inn. It was almost like going back to Oxford, he
+thought, with a quick glow of pleasure to see himself surrounded by
+mellow, ancient buildings once more.
+
+All his heavy personal effects had been sent up from Walktown some days
+before, and when he had carried up his two portmanteaus he knocked at
+the "oak" or outside door of the chambers, which was shut, and waited
+for a response. He saw that his name was freshly painted on the lintel
+of the door under the two others:
+
+          +---------------------------------------+
+          |                                       |
+          |         MR. HAROLD M. SPENCE.         |
+          |                                       |
+          |           MR. CYRIL HANDS.            |
+          |                                       |
+          |          REV. BASIL GORTRE.           |
+          |                                       |
+          +---------------------------------------+
+
+
+In a minute he heard footsteps. The inner door was opened and he saw a
+tall, thin man, bearded and brown, peering at him through spectacles.
+
+"Ah! Gortre, I suppose," said the other. "We were expecting you. I'm
+Hands, you know, home for another month yet. Give me these bags. Come
+in, come in."
+
+He followed the big, stooping fellow with a sense of well-being at the
+cheery bohemianism of his greeting.
+
+He found himself in a very large room indeed, panelled from floor to
+ceiling, the woodwork painted a sage green. Three great windows, each
+with a cushioned seat in its recess, looked down into the quadrangle
+below. Curtained doors faced him on all sides of the room, which was
+oddly shaped and full of nooks and angles. Books and newspapers covered
+two or three writing-tables and were piled on shelves between the doors.
+A bright fire burned in a large grate and the mantel above was covered
+with Oxford photographs, pipes, and tobacco jars. There was a note of
+comfort everywhere, of luxurious comfort though not of luxury. The
+furniture was not new and it bore the signs of long use no less than
+careful choice. Bohemia it was, but not a squalid Bohemia. If a room can
+have a personality, this was a _gentlemanly_ room. One saw that
+gentlemen lived here, men who, without daintiness or a tinge of the
+sybarite, yet liked a certain order and fitness around them. At once
+Basil felt in key with the place. There was no jarring note anywhere.
+
+"I've got you a sort of meal, Gortre," said Hands, pleasantly, "though
+we were rather in doubt as to what a man could want at four o'clock in
+the afternoon! Spence suggested afternoon tea, as you'll be wanting to
+dine later on. But Mrs. Buscall, our laundress, suggested cold beef and
+Bass's beer--after a sea voyage which she regards as a sort of Columbus
+adventure. So fall to--here you are. Harold is just getting up."
+
+Indeed, as he spoke there came a noise of vigorous splashing from behind
+one of the closed doors and Spence's voice bellowed out a greeting.
+
+Basil looked puzzled for a moment and Hands laughed as he saw it.
+
+"You must remember that Spence doesn't get back from the office till
+three in the morning," he said. "He's writing four leaders a week now,
+and on his late nights, when he comes back, his brain is too alert and
+excited to sleep, so he has some Bovril and just works away at other
+stuff till morning. He won't interfere with us, though. I never hear him
+come in, nor will you. These chambers are a regular rabbit warren for
+size and ramification."
+
+Basil went into the bedroom he was to have, a spacious, clean, and
+simply furnished place, and when he came out again for his meal found
+Spence, in a loose suit of flannels, smoking a cigarette. The journalist
+joined him at the table.
+
+In a very short time Gortre felt thoroughly at home. He knew by a kind
+of instinct that he should be happy in Lincoln's Inn. Hands had still a
+month to spend in London before he went back to Palestine to continue
+his work for the Exploring Society, and he looked forward to many
+interesting talks with him, the actual agent and superintendent of the
+work at Jerusalem, the trained eye and arm of the great and influential
+English Society.
+
+And as for Spence, he had known him intimately ever since his first
+Oxford days, many years ago now. Harold Spence was like a brother to
+him--had always been that.
+
+The first hour's conversation, desultory as it was, in a sense, showed
+him how full and varied his new life promised to be. After the noisy
+seclusion of Walktown he felt that he was now in the centre of things.
+Both Spence and Hands were thoroughly cultured men, and both were
+distinguished above the crowd in their respective spheres.
+
+Basil heard keen, critical, "inside" talk for almost the first time. His
+two companions knew everybody, were at the hub of things. Two nights ago
+Spence had been talking to the Prime Minister for ten minutes.--_The
+Daily Wire_ was the unofficial Government organ. Hands had been at
+Lambeth with the Archbishop, the president and patron of the Palestine
+Society. They were absolute types of the keen, vigorous, and _young_
+mental aristocracy which is always on the active service of English
+life. They belonged to the executive branch.
+
+"I'm sorry, Basil," Spence said suddenly, "I've got a note for you from
+Father Ripon. I forgot to give it to you. He sent it down by a special
+messenger this morning. Here it is."
+
+Father Ripon was the vicar of St. Mary's, Gortre's new chief.
+
+He took the note and opened it, reading as follows:
+
+     "THE CLERGY HOUSE,
+     "ST MARY'S, BLOOMSBURY.
+
+     "DEAR MR. GORTRE,--Friend Spence says that you will arrive in
+     London this afternoon. I don't believe in wasting time and I want a
+     good long talk with you before you begin your work with us.
+     To-night I am due at Bethnal Green to give a lecture. I shall be
+     driving home about ten and I'll call at Lincoln's Inn on my way. If
+     this will not be too late for you, we can then talk matters
+     over.--Sincerely yours in Christ,    ARTHUR RIPON."
+
+Basil passed the note to Spence.
+
+"That'll be all right," he said. "I shall be at work, and Hands will be
+in his own room. What a man Ripon is! He's just the incarnation of
+breezy energy. Brusque, unconventional as Dr. Parker himself, but one of
+the sincerest Christians and best men I ever met or ever shall meet. He
+signs his note like that because he means it. He hates cant, and what in
+some men would appear cant, or at least a rather unnecessary form of
+ending, is to him just an ordinary every-day fact. You will get on with
+Father Ripon, Basil, I'm sure. You'll get to love the man as we all do.
+I never knew any one so absolutely joyous as he is. He's about the
+happiest man in town, I should say. His private income is nearly two
+thousand a year, and his living's worth something too, and yet I don't
+suppose his own expenses are fifty pounds. He lives more or less on
+porridge--when he remembers to eat at all--and his only extravagance is
+hansom cabs, so that he can cram more work into the day."
+
+They all laughed, and Spence began to tell anecdotes of the famous
+"ritualistic" parson who daily filled more stomachs, saved more souls,
+and shocked more narrow-minded people than any two men in Crockford.
+
+At seven o'clock they all went out together--Spence to his adjacent
+office in Fleet Street, the other two to dine quietly at the University
+Club.
+
+"London depresses me," said Hands, when they were seated on the top of
+an omnibus and rolling westward through the Strand. "I am afraid that I
+shall never be in love with London any more. I always dislike my
+vacations, or rather my business visits to town. It's necessary that I
+attend the annual meeting of the Society and see people in authority,
+and I have to give a few lectures too. But I hate it all the same. I
+love the simple life of the East, the sun, the deep blue shadows, my
+silent Arabs. I know of no more beautiful sight than the Holy City--why
+do they call Rome the 'Holy City'? Jerusalem is the Holy City--when the
+hills are covered with the January snows. It is a wonderful, immemorial
+land, Gortre, a silent, beautiful country. Just before I came over here
+I spent a fortnight working at some inscriptions in a very ancient Latin
+monastery. I never knew such peace. The monks are all sad-faced,
+courteous Syrians, and they move along the rock balconies like benignant
+ghosts. And then one comes back and is plunged into this!"
+
+He threw out his hand over the side of the omnibus with a note of
+disgust in his rather dreamy voice. The Strand was all brilliantly lit
+and waiting crowds stood by all the theatre doors. Men and women passed
+in and out of the bright orange light of bars and restaurants, and small
+filthy boys stabbed the deep roar of the traffic with their shrill
+voices as they called out the evening papers.
+
+They dined quietly and simply at the big warm club in Piccadilly. Hands
+did most of the talking and Gortre was content to listen to the pleasant
+monotony of the low, level voice and to fall under the man's peculiar
+spell or charm--a charm that he always exercised upon another artistic
+temperament.
+
+Hands was a poet by nature and sentiment. His strange, lonely life among
+the evidences of the past under the Eastern sky had toned, mellowed,
+and orientalised his vision.
+
+As he listened Gortre also began to feel something of the mystery and
+magic influence of that country of God's birth.
+
+It was half-past nine when they got back to the chambers again. Hands
+went at once to his own room to work and Basil sat down in front of a
+red, glowing fire, gazing into the hot caverns, lost in reverie. It was
+as though he had taken some opiate and there was nothing better in life
+than to sit thus and dream in the warm silence of the firelit room.
+
+A few minutes after ten he was suddenly called out of the clouds by a
+furious knocking at the door of the chambers.
+
+The sound cut into his dreams like a knife.
+
+He went to open the door, and Father Ripon, his new vicar, came in like
+a whirlwind. His voluminous black cloak brought cold air in its folds;
+his breezy, genial personality was so actual a fact, struck such a
+strident, material note, that dreams and reverie fled before it.
+
+Gortre turned up the gas-jets and flooded the room with light.
+
+Father Ripon was a tall, well-made man, too active to be portly, but
+with hints of a tendency towards plumpness, which was never allowed to
+ripen. His iron-grey hair was cropped close to his large, well-shaped
+head. The shrewd, merry eyes, of a rare red-hazel colour, were shaded by
+heavy grey brows, which gave them a singular directness and penetration.
+The nose was aquiline, the lips thin, though the mouth was large, and
+the chin massive and somewhat protruding. The mobile face, lined and
+seamed by the strenuous life of its owner, was very seldom in repose. It
+glowed and flashed continually with changing expression. On those
+occasions when the play of feature sank to rest for a moment, at the
+giving of a benediction or the saying of a solemn prayer in church, a
+nobility and asceticism transformed the face into something saintly. But
+in the ordinary business of life the large humanity of the man gave him
+a readier title to the hearts of his people than their knowledge of the
+underlying saintliness of his character.
+
+"Whisky?" he said, as Gortre asked him to take some. "No, thanks.
+Teetotaler for sake of example, always have been--and don't like the
+stuff either, never did. But I'll have some coffee and some bread and
+butter, if you've got it, and some of those oranges I see there. Forgot
+to lunch and had no time to dine!"
+
+He began ravenously upon the oranges and with little further preamble
+plunged at once into the business of the parish. To emphasise a point,
+he flung a piece of orange peel savagely into the fire now and again.
+
+"Our congregation," he said, "is peculiar to the church. You'll realise
+that when you get among them. I don't suppose in the whole of London
+there is a more difficult class of people to reach than our own. In the
+first place, it's a _young_ congregation, speaking generally. 'Good,'
+you'll say; 'ductible material, plenty of enthusiasm to work on.' Not a
+bit of it. Most of the men are engaged in the City as clerks upon a
+small wage. They are mentally rather "small" men. Their lives are hard
+and monotonous, their outlook upon life petty and vulgar. The lowest and
+the highest classes are far easier to get at because they are
+temperamentally more alike. The anarchists have some right on their side
+when they condemn the _bourgeoisie_! It's difficult to show a small
+brain a big thing. _Our_ difficulty is to explain the stupendous truths
+of Christianity to flabby and inert, machine-like fellows. When we _do_
+get hold of them, the very monotony of their lives makes religion a
+more valuable thing to them. But the temptations of this class are
+terribly strong, living alone in lodgings as they do. The cheap
+music-hall and bar attract them; dissipation forms their society. Their
+views of women are taken from their association with the girls of the
+streets and the theatres. As they have no settled place in society, they
+are horribly afraid of ridicule. They are a far more difficult lot than
+their colleagues who live in the suburbs and have chances for healthier
+recreations.
+
+"Then much of our work lies among women who seem irretrievably lost,
+and, I fear, very often are so. The Bloomsbury district is honeycombed
+with well-conducted dens of impurity. The women of a certain class have
+fixed upon the parish as their home. I don't mean the starving
+prostitute that one meets in the East End, I mean the fairly prosperous,
+utterly vicious, lazy women. You will meet with horrors of vice, a
+marvellous and stony indifference, in the course of your work. To reach
+some of these well-dressed, well-fed, well-housed girls, to show them
+the spiritual and even the economic and material end of their lives,
+requires almost superhuman powers. If an angel came some of them would
+not believe. And in the great and luxurious buildings of flats which
+have sprung up in all the squares, the well-known London
+_demi-mondaines_--people who dance upon the stage and whose pictures
+glare upon one from every hoarding--have made their homes and constantly
+parade before the eyes of others the wealth which is the reward of lust.
+
+"This is a wicked part of London, Gortre. And yet, day by day, in our
+beautiful church, where the Eucharist is celebrated and prayers go up
+unceasingly, we have evidences that our work is acceptable and that the
+Power is with us. Magdalen still comes with her jewels and her tears of
+repentance. I ask and beg of you to remember certain things--keep them
+always before your eyes--during your ministry among us. Whenever a man
+or woman comes to you, either at confession or otherwise, and tells of
+incredible sins, welcome the very slightest movement towards the light.
+Cultivate an all-embracing sympathy. I firmly believe that more souls
+have been lost by a repellent manner on the part of a priest, or an
+apparent lack of understanding, than any one has any idea of. Remember
+that when a thoroughly evil and warped nature has made a great effort
+and laid its spiritual case before a priest, it expects in its inner
+consciousness a pat on the back for its new efforts. It wants
+commendation. One _must_ fight warily, with a thorough psychological
+knowledge, with a broad humanity. To take even the slightest signs of
+repentance as a matter of course, to throw any doubt upon its reality or
+permanence, is to accept an awful responsibility. Err rather on the side
+of sentiment. Who are we to judge?"
+
+Gortre had listened with deep attention to Father Ripon's earnest words.
+He began to realise more clearly the difficulties of his new life. And
+yet the obstacles did not daunt him. They seemed rather a trumpet note
+for battle. Ripon's enthusiasm was contagious; he felt the exhilaration
+of the tried soldier at a coming contest.
+
+"One more thing," said the vicar. "In all your teaching and preaching
+hammer away at the great central fact of the Incarnation. No system of
+morals will reach these people--however plausible, however pure--unless
+you constantly bring the supernatural side of religion before them.
+Preach the Incarnation day in, day out. Don't, like so many men, regard
+it as an accepted fact merely, using it as a postulate on which to found
+a scheme of conduct. Once get the central truth of all into the hearts
+of a congregation, and then all else will follow. Now, good-night. I've
+kept you late, but I wished to have a talk with you. A good deal will
+devolve upon you. I have especially arranged that you should not live in
+the Clergy House with Stokes, Carr, and myself. I would rather that your
+environment should be more secular. Stokes and Carr are perhaps a little
+too priestly, too "professional" in manner, if you understand what I am
+driving at. Keep yourself from that. If you go among the young men, see
+them at home, smoke with them, and take what they offer you in the way
+of refreshment. Well, good-bye. You are to preach at Sunday Evensongs
+you know. Sir Michael Manichoe, our patron, will be there, and there
+will be a large congregation."
+
+He turned, said good-night with sudden abruptness, as if he had been
+lingering too long and was displeased with himself, and hurried away. It
+was his usual manner of farewell.
+
+A few minutes afterwards Gortre went to bed. He found it difficult to
+believe that he had walked down the Faubourg de la Barre that morning.
+It had been a crowded day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE RESURRECTION SERMON
+
+
+Sir Michael Manichoe was the great help and standby of St. Mary's. His
+father had been a wealthy banker in Rome, and a Jew. The son, who had
+enormously increased his inherited wealth, was an early convert to
+Christianity during his Oxford days in England. He was the Conservative
+member for a division in Lincolnshire, where his great country house was
+situated, and had become a pillar of the Church and State in England. In
+the House of Commons he presented the somewhat curious spectacle of a
+Jew by birth leading the moderate "Catholic" party. He was the great
+antagonist of Constantine Schuabe, and with equal wealth and position,
+though Schuabe was by far the more brilliant of the two men, he devoted
+all his energies to the opposition of the secular and agnostic
+influences of his political rival.
+
+Every Sunday during the session, when he was in London, Sir Michael
+drove to St. Mary's for both morning and evening service. He was church
+warden, and intimately concerned in all the parochial business, while
+his purse was always open at Father Ripon's request.
+
+Gortre had been introduced to Sir Michael during the week, and he knew
+the great man purposed attending to hear his first sermon at St. Mary's
+on the Sunday evening.
+
+He prepared his discourse with extreme care. A natural wish to make a
+good first impression animated him; but, as he sat late on the Saturday
+night, finally arranging his notes, he began to be conscious of new and
+surprising thoughts about the coming event. Earlier in the evening he
+had been talking to Hands, but the arch�ologist had gone to bed and left
+him alone.
+
+The day had been a gloomy one. A black pall of fog fell over London at
+dawn, and had remained all day, almost choking him as he said evensong
+in the almost empty church.
+
+All day long he had felt strangely overweighted and depressed. A chance
+paragraph in an evening paper, stating that Mr. Schuabe, M.P., had
+returned from a short Continental trip, started an uneasy and gloomy
+train of thought. The memory of the terrible night at Walktown recurred
+to him with a horrible sense of unreality, the picture blurred somewhat,
+as if the fingers of the disease which had struck him down had already
+been pressing on his brain when he had been alone with the millionaire.
+Much of what he remembered of that dread interview must have been
+delusion. And yet in all other matters he was sane and unprejudiced
+enough. Many times he had met and argued with unbelievers. They had
+saddened him, but no more. Why was it that this man, notorious atheist
+as he was, filled him with a shuddering fear, a horror for which he had
+no name?
+
+Then also, what had been the significance of the incident at Dieppe--its
+true significance? Sir Robert Llwellyn had also inspired him with a
+feeling of utter loathing and abhorrence, though perhaps in a less
+degree. There was the sudden glimpse of Schuabe's signature on the
+letter. What was the connection between the two men? How could the
+Antichristian be in friendly communion with the greatest Higher Critic
+of the time?
+
+He recalled an even more sinister occurrence, or so it had seemed to
+him. Two days after his first introduction to Llwellyn and the dinner
+at the Pannier d'Or he had seen him enter the Paris train _with Schuabe_
+himself, who had just arrived from England. He had said nothing of the
+incident to Mr. Byars or Helena. They would have regarded it as ordinary
+enough. They knew nothing of what had passed between him and Schuabe.
+The deliberate words of Sir Robert at the restaurant recurred to him
+again and again, taking possession of his brain and ousting all other
+thoughts. What new discoveries was the Professor hinting at?
+
+What did the whole obsession of his brain mean?
+
+Curiously enough, he felt certain that these thoughts were in no way
+heralds of a new attack of brain fever. He knew this for a certainty. It
+seemed as if the persistent whisperings within him were rather the
+results of some spiritual message, as if the unseen agency which
+prompted them had some definite end and purpose in view.
+
+The more he prayed the stronger his premonitions became; added force was
+given to them, as if they were the direct causes of his supplications.
+
+It almost seemed that God was speaking to him.
+
+He had questioned Hands cautiously, trying to learn if any new and
+important facts bearing upon Biblical history were indeed likely to be
+discovered in the near future.
+
+But the answer did not amount to very much. The new and extensive
+excavations, under the permission of the lately granted firman from the
+Turkish Government, were only just beginning. The real work was to
+commence when Hands had finished his work in London and had returned to
+take charge of the operations.
+
+Of course, Hands had said there were possibilities of discovery of
+first-class importance, but he doubted it. The locality of Golgotha and
+the Holy Sepulchre was already established, in Hands's opinion. He had
+but little doubt of the authenticity of the established sites.
+Llwellyn's theories he scouted altogether, while agreeing with him in
+his negation of the Gordon Tomb.
+
+So there had been very little from Hands that was in any way
+satisfactory to Basil.
+
+But as he sat in the great silence of the night and read over the heads
+of the sermon a great sense of comfort came to him. He felt a mysterious
+sense of power, not merely because he knew the work was good, but
+something beyond that. He was conscious that for some reason or other
+that particular sermon which he was about to preach was one on which
+much depended. He could not say how or why he knew the thing was fraught
+with destiny to himself or others. He only knew it.
+
+Many years afterwards he remembered that quiet night, and the help which
+seemed to come to him suddenly, a renewed hope and confidence after the
+mental misery of the day.
+
+When he looked back on the terrible and stupendous events in which he
+had played so prominent a part, he was able to see clearly the chain of
+events, and to place his experience about what he always afterwards
+called his "Resurrection sermon" in their proper sequence.
+
+Looking back through the years, he saw that a more than mortal power was
+guiding him towards the fulfilment of a Divine purpose.
+
+But that night as he said his prayers before going to sleep he only felt
+a sweet security as he glanced at the MS. on the chair by his bedside.
+
+The future was not yet revealed to him. God spared him the torture of
+foreknowledge.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The pulpit was high above the heads of the people, much higher than is
+usual, a box of stone set in the great arch of the chancel.
+
+As Gortre stood for a moment, after the prayer, he kissed the stole and
+placed it, as a yoke, upon his shoulders. He looked down the great
+building and saw the hundreds of watchful, expectant faces, with an
+uplifting sense of power. He felt as if he were a mouthpiece of strange,
+unseen forces. The air seemed full of wings.
+
+For a moment the preacher paused and sent a keen glance over the
+congregation below. He saw Sir Michael Manichoe, dark, aquiline,
+Semitic, sitting in his front pew. A few seats behind him, with a sudden
+throb of surprise but nothing else, the calm and evil beauty of
+Constantine Schuabe's face looked up at him.
+
+The strangeness of the appearance and the shock of it had at that moment
+no menace or intimidation for him. Standing there to deliver God's
+message, in God's house, his enemy seemed to have no power to throw his
+brain into its old fear and tumult.
+
+Another face, unknown to him, arrested his attention.
+
+The sexes were not separated for worship in St. Mary's. In the same seat
+where Schuabe sat was a woman, dark, handsome, expensively dressed.
+
+She also was Jewish in appearance, though it was obvious that there was
+no connection between her and the millionaire. Her face, as the young
+clergyman's eyes rested on it for a second, seemed to be curiously
+familiar, as if he saw it every day of his life, but it nevertheless
+struck no _personal_ note.
+
+Gortre began to speak, taking for his text part of a verse from the
+Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans--"_Declared to be the Son of God with
+power, according to the spirit of holiness, by the resurrection of the
+dead._"
+
+"In this world of to-day," he began calmly, and with a certain
+deliberation and precision in his utterance, "what men in general are
+hungering after is a positive assurance of actual spiritual agency in
+the world. They crave for something to hold by which is outside
+themselves, and which cannot have grown out of the inner persuasions of
+men. They cannot understand people who tell them that, whether the
+events of the Gospels actually passed upon earth or not, they may
+fashion their own dispositions all the same, on the supposition that
+these events occurred. If I can to-night show that any appearance of the
+Risen Lord is attested in the same way as are certain facts commonly
+accepted as history, I shall have accomplished as much as I can hope."
+
+Then, very carefully, Gortre went through the scientific and historical
+evidences for the truth of the Resurrection. Gradually, as he marshalled
+his proofs and brought forth one after the other, he began, by a sort of
+unconscious hypnotism of the eye, to make the seat where Schuabe and the
+strange woman sat his objective.
+
+Many speakers have this automatic habit of addressing one or two persons
+as if they were the ear of the whole congregation. It is said that by
+such means, even if unconsciously employed, the brain becomes more
+concentrated and clearer for the work in hand.
+
+Slowly the preacher's voice became more resonant and triumphant. To many
+of the congregation the overwhelming and stupendous evidences for the
+truth of the Gospel narratives which the study of late years has
+collected was entirely new. The Higher Criticism, the fact that it is
+not only in science that "discoveries" can be made, the excavations in
+the East and the newly discovered MSS., with their variations of
+reading, the possibility that the lost Aramaic original of St. Matthew's
+Gospel may yet be discovered, were all things which came to them for
+the first time in their lives. Gortre's words began to open up to them
+an entirely new train of thought. Their interest was profoundly
+quickened.
+
+Very few clergymen of middle age are cognisant of the latest theological
+thought. Time, money, and lack of education alike prevent them. The
+slight mental endowment and very ordinary education which are all that
+is absolutely necessary for an ordination candidate, are not realised by
+the ordinary member of a church congregation. The mass of the English
+clergy to-day are content to leave such questions alone, to do their
+duty simply, to impose upon their flock the necessity of "faith," and to
+deny the right of individual judgment and speculation.
+
+They do not realise that the world of their middle age is more educated,
+and so more intelligent, than the world of their youth, and that, if the
+public intellect is nurtured by the public, those whose duty it is to
+keep it within the fold of Christianity must provide it with a food
+suited to its development.
+
+Gortre, in his sermon, had crystallised and boiled down into pregnant
+paragraphs, without circumlocution or obscurity, all the brilliant work
+of Latham, Westcott, Professor Ramsay, and Homersham Cox. He quoted
+Renan's passage from _Les Ap�tres_, dealing with the finding of the
+empty tomb, and showed the flaws and fallacies in that brilliant piece
+of antichristian suggestion.
+
+As he began to bring his arguments to a close he was conscious that the
+people were with him. He could feel the brains around him thinking in
+unison; it was almost as if he _heard_ the thoughts of the congregation.
+The dark, handsome woman stared straight up at him. Trouble was in her
+eyes, an awakened consciousness, and Gortre knew that the truth was
+dropping steadily into her mind, and that conviction was unwelcome and
+alarming.
+
+And he felt also the bitter antagonism which was alive and working
+behind the impassive face and half-closed eyes of the millionaire below.
+It was a silent duel between them. He knew that his words were full of
+meaning, _even of conviction_, to the man, and yet he was subjectively
+conscious of some _reserve_ of force, some hidden sense of fearful
+power, a desperate resolve which he could not overcome.
+
+His soul wrestled in this dark, mysterious conflict as with a devil, but
+could not prevail.
+
+He finished all his argument, the last of his proofs. There was a hushed
+silence in the church.
+
+Then swiftly, with a voice which trembled with the power that was given
+him, he called them to repentance and a new life. _If_, he said, his
+words had carried conviction of the truth of Christ's resurrection, of
+His divinity, then, believing that, there was but one course open to
+them all. For to know the truth, and to believe it, and to continue in
+indifference, was to kill the soul.
+
+It was over. Father Ripon had pronounced the blessing, the great organ
+was thundering out the requiem of another Sunday, and Sir Michael was
+shaking hands warmly with Basil in the vestry.
+
+Gortre was tired and shaken by the long, nervous strain, but the evident
+pleasure of Father Ripon and Sir Michael, the knowledge that he had
+acquitted himself well, was comforting and sustaining.
+
+He walked home, down quiet Holborn, curiously dead without the traffic
+of a week day and the lights of the shop fronts, and not reanimated by
+the strolling pedestrians, young people of the lower classes from the
+East End, who thronged it.
+
+Lincoln's Inn was wonderfully soothing and quiet as his footsteps echoed
+in the old quadrangle. After a lonely, tranquil supper--Hands was at a
+dinner-party somewhere in Mayfair and Spence was at the office of _The
+Daily Wire_ preparing for Monday's paper--he wheeled a small
+writing-desk up to the fireside and began a long letter of news and
+thankfulness to Helena.
+
+He pictured the pleasant dining-room at Walktown, the Sunday night's
+supper,--an institution at the Vicarage after the labours of the busiest
+day in the week,--with a guest or two perhaps.
+
+He knew they would be thinking of him, as he of them, and pictured the
+love-light in his lady's sweet, calm eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+"NEITHER DO I CONDEMN THEE"
+
+
+Autumn came to London, a warm, lingering season. There was a hint of the
+South in the atmosphere of town. All business moved with languor; there
+was more enjoyment in life as people went and came through the streets
+under so ripe and genial a sun.
+
+Gortre had settled down to steady, regular work. At no time before had a
+routine been so pleasant to him. His days were full of work, which, hard
+as it was, came to him with far more appeal than his duties at Walktown.
+Nothing ever stagnated here, at the very hub and centre of things.
+
+The splendid energy and force of Father Ripon, the magnificent
+unconvention of his methods, animated his staff to constant and
+unflagging exertions.
+
+Gortre felt that he was suddenly "grown up," that his life before had
+been spent in futile playtime compared to the present.
+
+One central fact in St. Mary's parish held all the great organisation
+together. This was the daily services in the great church. Priests,
+deacons, sisters of mercy, school teachers, and lay helpers all drew
+their strength and inspiration from this source. The daily Eucharist,
+matins, evensong, were both a stimulus and stimulant of enormous power.
+
+Church brought the mysteries in which they lived, moved, and had their
+being into intimate relation with every circumstance of daily life.
+
+The extraordinary thing, which many of Father Ripon's staff were almost
+unable to understand, was that more people did not avail themselves of
+what they regarded--viewing the thing from a standpoint of personal
+experience--such helpful opportunities.
+
+"They are always coming to me," Father Ripon had said on one occasion,
+"and complaining that they find such a tremendous difficulty in leading
+a holy life--say that the worldly surroundings and so forth kill their
+good impulses--and yet they _won't_ come to church. People are such
+fools! My young men imagine that they can become good Christians by a
+sort of sudden magic--a low beast on Saturday night, the twentieth of
+August, and, after a nerve storm in church and a few tears in the
+vestry, a saint for evermore! And then when they get drunk or do
+something beastly the next week, they rail against the Christian Faith
+because it isn't a sort of spiritual hand cuffs! And yet if you told
+them you could manage a bank after merely experience in a shipping
+office, they would see the absurdity of that at once. Donkeys!"
+
+This with a genial smile of tenderness and compassion, for this
+Whirlwind in a Cassock loved his flock.
+
+So from the very first Basil had found his life congenial. Privately he
+blessed his good fortune in living in Lincoln's Inn with Spence. On the
+nights when the journalist was free from the office, and not otherwise
+engaged, the two men sat late with pipes and coffee, enjoying that
+vigorous communion of two keen, young, and virile brains which is one of
+the truly stimulating pleasures of life.
+
+Gortre admired Spence greatly for some of his qualities. His intellect
+was, of course, first class--his high position on the great daily paper
+guaranteed that. His reading and sympathies were wide. Moreover, the
+clergyman found a great refreshment in the fact that, in an age of
+indifference, at a time when the best intellects of younger London life
+were professedly agnostic, Harold Spence was an avowed Christian and
+Churchman. As Gortre got to know him better, when the silence and
+detachment of midnight in the old Inn broke down reticence, he realised
+with a sense of thankfulness, and sometimes of fear also, how a thorough
+belief in religion kept the writer straight and captain of his own soul.
+
+For the man was a creature of strong passions and wayward desires. He
+had not always been the clean gentleman of the present. As is so often
+the case with a refined and cultured temperament, he had a dark and ugly
+side to his nature. The coarse vices of the blood called to him long and
+often with their hollow siren voices. Evil came to him with swift
+invitation and cunning allurement. He had hinted to Basil of days of sin
+and secret shame. And now, very soberly and without any emotion, he
+clung to Christ for help.
+
+And he had conquered.
+
+This was ever a glorious fact to Basil, another miracle in those
+thousands of daily miracles which were happening all around him. But his
+fear for Harold came from his realisation of his friend's exact
+spiritual grip. Spence's Christianity was rather too _utilitarian_ for
+safety. Perhaps the deep inward conviction was weak. It seemed sometimes
+as if it were a barren, thorny thing--too much fetish, too much a return
+for benefits received, a sort of half-conscious bargain. He often prayed
+long that nothing should ever occur to shake Spence's belief; for he
+felt, if that should happen, the disaster would prove irreparable. A
+dammed river is a dangerous thing.
+
+But he kept all these thoughts locked in his heart, and never spoke of
+them to Harold.
+
+Since the evening of his first sermon he had never seen Schuabe again.
+Now and then the thought of him passed through his brain, and his mental
+sight seemed obscured for a moment, as though great wings hid the sun
+from him. But since the silent duel in the church, the curious and
+malign influence of the millionaire had waned. It was prominent no
+longer, and when it troubled him it did so without power and force. Fine
+health, the tonic of constant work, the armour of continual prayer, had
+their way and were able to banish much of what he now looked back on as
+morbidity, sinister though it had been.
+
+Nevertheless, one thing often reminded him of that night. The dark,
+Jewish-looking lady he had seen sitting in the same pew with Schuabe
+often came to church on Sunday nights when he was preaching. The bold
+and insolently beautiful face looked up at him with steady interest. The
+fierce regard had something passionate and yet wistful in it.
+
+Sometimes Basil found himself preaching almost directly to the face and
+soul of the unknown woman. There was an understanding between them. He
+knew it; he felt it most certainly.
+
+Sometimes she would remain in her seat after the mass of the
+congregation had shuffled away into the night. She did not pray, but sat
+still, with her musing eyes fixed on the huge ten-foot crucifix that
+swung down from the chancel arch.
+
+Once, as he passed the pew on the way to baptise the child of a poor
+woman of the streets--brought in furtively after the Sunday
+evensong--she made a movement as if to speak to him. He had waited in
+expectation for a moment, but she remained still, and he passed on to
+the font, with its sad cluster of outcasts, its dim gas-jets, and the
+tiny child of shame with its thin cry of distress.
+
+He was asking the tremendous question--
+
+     "_Dost thou, in the name of this child, renounce the devil and all
+     his works, the vain pomp and glory of the world, with all covetous
+     desires of the same, and the carnal desires of the flesh, so that
+     thou wilt not follow nor be led by them?_"
+
+when he saw that the unknown woman was standing by within the shadow of
+a pillar. A gleam of yellow light fell through the dark on her rich
+dress, her eye glittered behind her white veil. He thought there was a
+tear in it. But when he was saying the exhortation he saw that the tall,
+silent figure had departed.
+
+He often wondered who the woman was,--if he should ever know her.
+
+Something told him that she wanted help. Something assured him that he
+should some day give it to her.
+
+And beyond this there was an unexplained conviction within him that the
+stranger was in some way concerned and bound up in the part he was to
+play in life.
+
+Long ago he had realised that it was idle to deny the interference of
+supernatural personalities in human life. Accepting the Incarnation, he
+accepted the Communion of Saints. And he was always conscious of hidden
+powers moulding, directing him.
+
+The episode of the cigarettes happened in this way.
+
+Stokes, one of Gortre's fellow-curates, came to supper one night in
+Lincoln's Inn.
+
+Spence was there also, as it was one of his free nights.
+
+About ten o'clock supper was over and they proposed to have a little
+music. Stokes was a fine pianist, and he had brought some of the
+nocturnes and ballads of Chopin with him, to try on the little
+black-cased piano which stood at an obtuse angle with the end of the
+large sitting-room.
+
+"Will you smoke, Stokes?" Spence said.
+
+"Thank you, I'll have a cigarette," the young man replied. "I can't
+stand cigars, and I've left my pipe at the Clergy House."
+
+They looked for cigarettes in the silver box lined with cedar which
+stood on the mantel-shelf, but some one had smoked them all and the box
+was empty.
+
+"Never mind," Spence said; "I've been meaning to run out and get a late
+_Westminster_ and I'll buy some cigarettes, too. There's a shop at the
+Holborn end of the Lane, next to the shop where the oysters come from,
+and it won't be shut yet."
+
+In a few minutes he came back with several packets of cigarettes in his
+hand. "I've brought Virginian," he said; "I know you can't stand
+Egyptian, none of us can, and if these are cheap, they're good, too."
+
+Till eleven o'clock Stokes played to them--Chopin's wild music of
+melancholy and fire--and as the hour struck he went home.
+
+Gortre and Spence sat and talked casually after he had gone, about the
+music they had heard, the cartoon in the evening paper, anything that
+came.
+
+Basil had not been smoking during the evening. He had been too intent
+upon the nocturnes, and now he felt a want of tobacco. One of the
+packets of cigarettes lay by him on the table. He pulled up the flaps
+and took one. Without thinking what he was doing he drew a little
+photograph, highly finished and very clear, from the tiny cardboard
+case.
+
+He glanced at it casually.
+
+The thing was one of those pictures of burlesque actresses which are
+given away with this kind of tobacco. A tall girl with short skirts and
+a large picture hat was shown in a coquettish attitude that was meant to
+be full of invitation.
+
+Basil looked at it steadily with a curious expression on his face. Then
+he took a large reading-glass from the table and examined it again,
+magnifying it to many times its original size.
+
+He scrutinised it with great care. It was the portrait of the strange
+girl who came to St. Mary's.
+
+Basil had told Spence of this woman, and now he passed the photograph on
+to him.
+
+"Harold, that is the girl who comes to church and looks so unhappy. She
+is an actress, of course. The name is underneath--Miss Gertrude Hunt.
+Who is Miss Gertrude Hunt?"
+
+Spence took the thing. "How very queer!" he said, "to find your unknown
+like this. Gertrude Hunt? Why, she is a well-known musical comedy girl,
+sings and dances at the Regent, you know. There are all the usual
+stories about the lady, but possibly they are all lies. I'm sure I don't
+know. I've chucked that sort of society long ago. Are you sure it's the
+same person?"
+
+"Oh, quite sure! Of course, this shows the girl in a different dress and
+so on, but it's she without a doubt. I am glad she comes to church. It
+is not what one expects from what one hears of that class of woman, and
+it's not what one generally finds in the parish."
+
+He sighed, thinking of the many chilling experiences of the last few
+months in the vice-haunted streets and squares of Bloomsbury.
+
+"Well," said Spence, "experiments with that type are generally failures,
+and sometimes dangerous to the experimenter. You remember Anatole
+France's _Thais_? But this damsel is no Thais certainly, and you aren't
+a bit like Paphuntius. I hope you will be able to do some good.
+Personally, anything of the sort would be quite impossible to me.
+Good-night, old man. I'm going to turn in. I've a hard day's work
+to-morrow. Sleep well."
+
+He went out of the room with a yawn.
+
+When he was left alone, with his little mystery solved in so commonplace
+a fashion, Basil was conscious of a curious disappointment. It was an
+anti-climax.
+
+He had no narrow objection to the theatre. Now and then he had been to
+see famous actors in great plays. His occasional visits to the theatres
+of Irving or Wyndham had given him pleasure, nevertheless he had always
+felt a slight instinctive dislike to the trade of a mime. All voluntary
+sacrifices of personal dignity affect the average English temperament in
+this way more or less. However much the apologists of the stage may cry
+"art" or "beneficial influence," your British thinker is not convinced
+that there is anything very worthy in painting the face and making the
+body a public show for a wage. And there is sometimes a kind of wonder
+in the heart of a sincere Christian who attends a theatre as he
+remembers that the body is the Temple of the Holy Spirit.
+
+Still Basil was tolerant enough. But this case which had thrust itself
+before him was quite different. He knew that the burlesque, the modern
+music play, made, first and foremost, a frank appeal to the senses. Its
+hopeless vulgarity and coarseness of sentiment, its entire lack of
+appeal to anything that was not debased and materialistic, were ordinary
+indisputable facts of every-day life. And so his lady of evensong was a
+high-priestess of nothing better than this cult of froth and gaudy
+sensuality. More than all others, his experiences of late had taught him
+that women of this class seemed to be very nearly soulless. Their souls
+had dissolved in champagne, their consciences were burnt up by the
+feverish excitement and pleasure of their lives. They sold themselves
+for luxury and the adulation of coarse men.
+
+His very chagrin made him bitter and contemptuous more than his wont.
+
+Then his eye lit upon a photogravure hung upon the opposite wall. It
+was the reproduction of a quaint, decorative, stilted picture by an
+artist of the early Umbrian school, and represented St. Mary Magdalene.
+
+The coincidence checked his contemptuous thoughts.
+
+He began to reconstruct the scene in his brain, a favourite and
+profitable exercise of his, using his knowledge and study of the old dim
+times to animate the picture and make it vivid.
+
+They were all resting, or rather lying, around the table, the body
+resting on the couch, the feet turned away from the table in the
+direction of the wall, while the left elbow rested on the table.
+
+And then, from the open courtyard, up the verandah step, perhaps through
+an antechamber, and by the open door, passed the figure of a woman into
+the festive reception-room and dining-hall. How had she gained access?
+How incongruous her figure must have been there! In those days the
+Jewish prejudice against any conversation with women--even those of the
+most lofty character--was extreme.
+
+The shadow of her form must have fallen on all who sat at meat. But no
+one spoke, nor did she heed any but One only.
+
+The woman had brought with her an _alabastron_ of perfume. It was a
+flask of precious _foliatum_, probably, which women wore round the neck,
+and which hung over the breast. The woman stood behind Him at His feet,
+and as she bowed reverently a shower of tears, like sudden summer rain,
+"bedewed" His feet.
+
+Basil went through the whole scene until the final, "Go _into_ peace"
+not go _in_ peace, as the logical dogmatics would have had it.
+
+And so she, the first who had come to Him for spiritual healing, went
+out into the better light, and into the eternal peace of the Kingdom of
+Heaven.
+
+Basil tore up the vulgar little photograph and forgot that aspect of the
+dancer. He remembered rather the dim figure by the font.
+
+There was a sudden furious knocking on the outer door of the chambers,
+and he went to open it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+POWERS OF GOOD AND EVIL
+
+
+Gortre felt certain that his vicar stood without. His knocking was full
+of militant Christianity. The tumultuous energy of the man without
+communicated its own stir and disturbance to Basil's brain by the most
+subtle of all forms of telepathy--that "telepathy" which, in a few more
+years, will have its definite recipes and formul�.
+
+Father Ripon refused to live by any standard of measured time. He
+refused--so he said--to believe that a wretched little clock really knew
+what the great golden sun was doing. He had found it impossible to call
+on Gortre before this late hour, and he came regardless of it now. He
+wished to see Basil, and he came now with a supreme and simple
+carelessness of conventional time.
+
+As usual, the worthy man was hungry, and the _d�bris_ of supper on the
+table reminded him of that. He sat down at once and began to eat
+rapidly, telling his story between mouthfuls.
+
+"I bring you news of a famous opportunity," he said. "If you go to work
+in the right way you may win a soul. It's a poor _demi-mondaine_
+creature, a dancer at the theatres. She came to me in her brougham, her
+furs, and finery, and had a chat in my study. I gave her tea and a
+cigarette--you know I always keep some cigarettes for the choir-men or
+teachers when they call. All these women smoke. It's a great thing to
+treat these people with understanding and knowledge, Gortre. Don't
+'come the priest' over them, as a coster said to me last week. When they
+realise that one is a man, _then_ they are fifty times more willing to
+allow the other and more important thing.
+
+"Well, this poor girl told me all about it, the same very sordid story
+one is always hearing. She is a favourite burlesque actress, and she
+lives very expensively in those gorgeous new flats--Bloomsbury Court.
+Some wealthy scoundrel pays for it all. A man 'in a very high position,'
+as she said with a pathetic little touch of pride which made me want to
+weep. Oh, my dear fellow, if the world only knew what I know! Great and
+honoured names in the senate, the forum, the Court, unsullied before the
+eyes of men. And then these hideous establishments and secret ties! This
+is a wicked city. The deadly lusts which war against the soul are great,
+powerful, and militant all around us.
+
+"This poor woman has been coming regularly to church on Sundays. The
+first time was when you preached your capital sermon on the
+Resurrection. Now, she is dying from a slow complaint. She will live a
+year or two, the doctors think, and that is all. It does not prevent her
+from living her ordinary life, but it will strike her down suddenly some
+day.
+
+"She has expressed a wish to see you to talk things over with you. She
+thinks you can help her. Go to her and save her. We _must_."
+
+He handed Gortre a visiting-card, on which he saw the name of Gertrude
+Hunt with a curious lack of surprise.
+
+"Well, I must be off," said Father Ripon, rising from the table with a
+large hunk of bread and cheese in one hand.
+
+"Go and see this poor woman to-morrow evening. She tells me she isn't
+acting for a week or two,--rehearsing some new play. Isn't it wonderful
+to think of the things that are going on every day? Just think of the
+Holy Spirit pouring into this sinning creature's heart, catching her in
+the middle of her champagne and frivolity, and just turning her, almost
+_compelling_ her towards Christ! And men like John Morley or Constantine
+Schuabe say there is no truth in Christianity!--I'll take one of these
+apples--poor fools! Now I must go and write my sermon."
+
+He was gone in a clattering rush.
+
+For a long time Basil sat thinking. The mysterious links of some great
+chain were being revealed inch by inch. Wonderful as these circumstances
+already seemed to him, he felt sure there was far more behind them than
+he knew as yet. There was some unseen tie, some influence that drew his
+thoughts ever more and more towards the library in the palace at
+Manchester.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next evening a maid showed Gortre into the hall of the flat of
+Bloomsbury Court Mansions, eyeing him curiously as she did so.
+
+He passed down the richly carpeted passage with a quickening of all his
+pulses, noticing the Moorish lamps of copper studded with turquoise
+which threw a dim crimson light over everything, marking the
+ostentatious luxury of the place with wonder.
+
+Gertrude Hunt lay back in a low arm-chair. She was dressed in a long,
+dull red teagown of cashmere, with a broad white band round the neck
+opening of white Indian needlework, embroidered with dark green leaves.
+
+Her face was pale and tired.
+
+Despite the general warmth of the time, a fire burnt steadily on the
+hearth.
+
+Gortre sat down at her invitation, and they fell into a desultory
+conversation. He waited for her to open on the real subjects that had
+brought him there.
+
+He watched the tired, handsome face. Coarse it certainly was, in
+expression rather than feature, but that very coarseness gave it power.
+This woman, who lived the life of a doll, had character. One saw that.
+Perhaps, he thought, as he looked at her, that the very eagerness and
+greed for pleasure marked in her face, the passionate determination to
+tear the heart and core out of life, might still be directed to purer
+and nobler ends.
+
+Then she began to talk to him quite frankly, and with no disguise or
+slurring over the facts of her life.
+
+"I'm sick and tired of it all, Mr. Gortre," she said bitterly. "You
+can't know what it means a bit--lucky for you. Imagine spending all your
+life in a room painted bright yellow, eating nothing but chocolate
+creams, with a band playing comic songs for ever and ever. And even then
+you won't get it."
+
+Basil shuddered. There was something so poignant and forceful in her
+words that they hurt, stung like a whip-lash. He was being brought into
+terrible contact not only with sin and the satiety of sin, but with its
+results. The hideous staleness and torture of it all appalled him as he
+looked at this human personification of it in the crimson gown.
+
+"That's how it was at first," she continued. "I knew there was something
+more than this in life, though. I could read it in people's faces. So I
+came to the service at your church one Sunday evening. I'd never made
+fun of religion and all that at any time. I simply couldn't believe it,
+that was all. Then I heard you preach on the Resurrection. I heard all
+the proofs for the first time. Of course, I could see there wasn't any
+doubt about the matter at all. Then, curiously, directly I began to
+_believe_ in it I began to hate the way I was going on, so I went to
+Father Ripon, who was very nice, and he said you'd call."
+
+"I quite understand you, Miss Hunt," said Gortre. "That's the beauty of
+faith. When once you believe, then you've _got_ to change. It's a great
+pity, a very great pity, that clergymen don't attempt to explain things
+more than they do. If one isn't built in a certain way, I can quite
+understand and sympathise with any one who isn't able to take a parson's
+mere statement on trust, so to speak. But that's beside the way. _You_
+believe at any rate. And now what are you going to do? I'm here to help
+you in every possible way. I want to hear your views, just as you have
+thought them out."
+
+"I like that," she said. "That's practical and sensible. I've never
+cared very much for sentimental ways of looking at things. You know I
+can't live very long. I've got enough to live quietly on for some years,
+put away in a bank, money I've made acting. I haven't spent a penny of
+my salary for years--I've made the men pay for everything. I shall go
+quietly away to the country and be alone with my thoughts, close to a
+little quiet church. You'll find a place for me, won't you? That's what
+I want to do. But there's something in the way, and a big something,
+too."
+
+"I'm here to help that," said Basil.
+
+"It's Bob," she answered. "The man that keeps me. I'm afraid of him.
+He's been away for months, out of England, but he's coming back at once.
+To-morrow as likely as not, he couldn't say to a day. I had a letter
+from Brindisi last week. He's been to Palestine, _via_ Alexandria."
+
+A quick premonition took hold of the young man.
+
+"Who is he?" he asked.
+
+She took a photograph from the mantel-shelf and gave it to him. It was
+one of the Stereoscopic Company's series of "celebrities." Under the
+portrait was printed--"Sir Robert Llwellyn."
+
+Gortre started violently.
+
+"I know him," he said thickly. "I felt when I met him--What does it all
+mean?"
+
+He dropped his head into his hands, filled with the old, nameless,
+unreasoning fear.
+
+She looked steadily at him, wondering at his manner.
+
+There was a tense silence for a time.
+
+In the silence suddenly they heard a sound, clear and distinct. A key
+was being inserted into the door of the flat.
+
+They waited breathlessly. Gertrude Hunt grew very white. Without any
+words from her, Basil knew whose fingers were even now upon the handle
+of the door.
+
+Llwellyn entered. His huge form was dressed in a light grey suit and he
+carried a straw hat in his hand. His face was burned a deep brown.
+
+He stopped suddenly as he saw Gortre and an ugly look flashed out on the
+sensual, intellectual face. Some swift intuition seemed to give him the
+key of the situation or something near it.
+
+"The curate of Dieppe!" he said in a cold, mirthless voice. "And what,
+Mr. Gortre, may I ask, are you doing here?"
+
+"Miss Hunt has asked me to come and see her," answered Basil.
+
+"Consoling yourself with the Church, Gertie, while your proprietor is
+away?" Llwellyn said with a sneer.
+
+Then his manner changed suddenly.
+
+He turned to Gortre. "Now then, my man," he snarled, "get out of this
+place at once. You may not know that I pay the rent and other expenses
+of this establishment. It is _mine_. I know all about you. Your
+reputation has reached me from sources you have little idea of. And I
+saw you at Dieppe. I don't propose to resume our acquaintance in London;
+kindly go at once."
+
+Basil looked at the woman. He saw pleading, a terrible entreaty in her
+eyes. If he left her now, the power of this man, his strength of will,
+might drag her back for ever into hell. He could see the girl regarded
+him with terror. There was a great surprise in her face also. The man
+seemed so strong and purposeful. Even Gortre remembered that he had worn
+no such indefinable air of confidence and triumph six months ago in
+France.
+
+"Miss Hunt wants me to stay, sir," he answered quietly, "and so I'm
+going to stay. But perhaps you had better be given an explanation at
+once. Miss Hunt is going to leave you to-morrow. She will never see you
+again."
+
+"And may I ask," the big man answered, "why you have interfered in my
+private affairs and why you _think_--for she is going to do nothing of
+the sort--Miss Hunt is going from here?"
+
+"Simply because the Holy Spirit wills it so," said the clergyman.
+
+Llwellyn looked steadily at him and then at the woman.
+
+Something he saw in their faces told him the truth.
+
+He laughed shortly. "Let me tell you," he said in a voice which quivered
+with ugly passion, "that in a short time all meddling priests will lose
+their power over the minds of others for ever. Your Christ, your God,
+the pale dreamer of the East, shall be revealed to you and all men at
+last!"
+
+His manner had changed once more. Fierce as it was, there was an intense
+_meaning_ and power in it. He spoke as one having authority, with also a
+concentrated hate in his words, so real and bitter that it gave them a
+certain fineness.
+
+"Yes!" he continued, lifting his arm with a sudden gesture:
+
+    "'Far hence He lies
+      In the lorn Syrian town,
+    And on His grave, with shining eyes,
+      The Syrian stars look down.'"
+
+Gortre answered him:
+
+"You lie and you know you lie! and by the powers given to me I'll tell
+you so from God Himself. Christ is risen! And as the day follows the
+night so the Spirit of God remains upon the earth God once visited, and
+works upon the hearts of men."
+
+"Are you going?" said Llwellyn, stepping towards Gortre.
+
+"No," the young man answered in sharp, angry tones. "It's you that are
+going, Sir Robert. You know as well as I do that I can do exactly as I
+like with you if it comes to force. And really I am not at all
+disinclined to do so, despite my parson's coat. Then you will have your
+remedy, you know. The newly made knight fighting a clergyman under such
+very curious circumstances! If this thing is to become open talk, then
+let us have it so. You can do me no harm. I came here at my vicar's
+request and Miss Hunt's. You know best if you can stand a scandal of
+this kind in your position. Now I'm going to use my last argument. Are
+you going at once or shall I knock you down and kick you out?"
+
+He could not help a note of exultation in his voice, try as he would. He
+was still a young man, full of power and virility. His life had brought
+no trace of effeminacy with it. And as he saw this splendid lying
+intellect, the slave of evil, and rejoicing in it, as he heard the
+arrogant denial of Christ's Godhead coming sonorously from those
+polluted lips, a wild longing flared up in him. Like a sudden flame,
+the impulse to strike a clean, hard blow fired all his blood. The old
+Oxford days of athletic triumphs on field, flood, and river came back to
+him.
+
+He measured the man scientifically with his eyes, judging his distance,
+alert to strike.
+
+But Llwellyn made no further movement of aggression and uttered no word
+of menace. He did not seem in the least afraid of Gortre or in any way
+intimidated by him. Indeed, he laughed, a laugh which was very hollow,
+mirthless, and cold.
+
+"Ah, my boy," he said, "I have a worse harm to work you than you can
+dream of yet. You will remember me some day. You can't frighten me now.
+I will go. I want no scandal. Good-bye, Gertrude. You also will remember
+and regret some day. Good-bye."
+
+He went noiselessly out of the room, still with the strange flickering
+smile of prescience and fate upon his evil face.
+
+When he had gone, Gertrude fell into a passion of weeping. The strain
+had been too great. Basil comforted her as well as he could, and before
+he went promised to see Father Ripon that night and make arrangements
+that she should quietly disappear the next day to some distant
+undiscoverable haven.
+
+Then he also went out into the night, through the silent squares of
+sleeping houses towards the Clergy House of St. Mary's. Once more his
+nerves were unstrung and the old fears and the sense of
+waiting--Damocles-like for some blow to fall--poured over him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sir Robert walked swiftly to Oxford Street, where he found a cab. He
+ordered the man to drive him to the Sheridan Club. On the way he stopped
+at Charing Cross Station and ordered his luggage to be sent home at
+once to his house in Upper Berkeley Street. He had only been in London
+two or three hours, having crossed from Calais that afternoon.
+
+He washed when he had arrived at the famous club, and then went
+up-stairs to the grill-room for some supper. It was the hour when the
+Sheridan is full of the upper Bohemian world. Great actors and
+musicians, a judge on his way through town from one watering-place to
+another,--for it was now the long vacation,--a good many well-known
+journalists, all sorts and conditions of men. All were eminent in their
+work, for that was a condition of membership.
+
+Llwellyn was welcomed on all sides, though men noticed that he seemed
+preoccupied. His healthy appearance was commented on, his face browned,
+as was supposed, by the sun of the Riviera, his general fitness of
+manner and carriage.
+
+He took supper by himself at a small table, choosing the menu with his
+usual extreme care, and more than once summoning the head waiter to
+conference. Although he kept glancing at his watch, as if expecting an
+arrival, he made a good meal, mixing his own salad of crisp white
+lettuce with deliberation.
+
+He had sent a page early on his arrival to find out if Mr. Constantine
+Schuabe was in the club.
+
+He was standing at the desk in the middle of the room, paying his bill,
+when the swing-doors were pushed open and Schuabe entered. He was in
+evening dress and carried a light overcoat on his arm.
+
+Llwellyn gathered up his change and went to meet him. Had there been an
+attentive observer to mark the meeting of the two men he would have
+perhaps been a little surprised at the fashion of it.
+
+Although Llwellyn was a six-months' stranger to London, and the meeting
+between the two men was obviously prearranged, _neither of the two men
+smiled as they shook hands_. Both were expectant of each other, pale,
+almost with some apprehension, it might have been fancied; and though
+the meeting seemed a relief to each, there was little human kindliness
+in it.
+
+"Come down to the Hotel," said Schuabe; "we can't possibly say anything
+here, every room is full."
+
+They walked out of the club together, two figures of noticeable
+distinction, very obviously belonging to the ruling classes of England.
+The millionaire's pale and beautiful face was worn and lined.
+
+"Schuabe seems a bit done up," one man in the hall said to another as
+the two friends passed through.
+
+"Heat, I suppose," answered his companion. "Handsome chap, though;
+doesn't seem to care for anything worth having, only books and politics
+and that. Wish I'd his money."
+
+"So do I. But give me Bob Llwellyn of these two. Thoroughly decent sort
+_he_ is. Invented two new omelettes and a white soup. Forgets all about
+his thing-um-bobs--old Egyptian or something--they knighted him for
+directly he leaves the Museum."
+
+"That's the sort," answered a third man who had joined them. "I don't
+object to a Johnny having a brain, and knowing a devil of a lot, if
+he'll only jolly well keep it to himself. Bob does that. I'm going
+up-stairs to have a turn at poker. You fellows coming?"
+
+Schuabe and Llwellyn walked to the Cecil, no great distance, saying
+little by the way, and presently they were in the millionaire's great
+room, with its spacious view over the river.
+
+The place was beautifully cool and full of flowers. A great block of ice
+rose from a copper bowl placed on a pedestal. The carpet had been
+covered with light matting of rice straw, brought from Rawal-pindi. All
+the windows leading to the balcony were wide open, and the balcony was
+covered with striped awning, underneath which the electric lights glowed
+on the leaves of Japanese palms, seeming as if they had been cunningly
+lacquered a metallic green colour, and on low chairs of white bleached
+rushes.
+
+The two men sat down in the centre of the room on light chairs, with a
+small Turkish table and cool drinks between them.
+
+"You've had all my letters, my last from Jaffa?" asked Sir Robert.
+
+"Yes, all of them," said Schuabe; "each one was carefully destroyed
+after I had read it and memorialised the contents. Let me say now that
+you have done your work with extraordinary brilliance. It has been an
+intellectual pleasure of a high order to follow your proceedings and
+know your plans. There is not another man in the world who could do what
+you have done. Everything seems guarded against, all is secure."
+
+"You are right, Schuabe," said Llwellyn, in a matter-of-fact voice. "You
+bade me make a certain thing _possible_. You paid me proportionately to
+the terrible risks and for my unrivalled knowledge. Well, you and I are
+going to shake the whole world as no two other men have ever done, and
+what will be the end?"
+
+"The end!" cried Schuabe, in a high, strained, unnatural voice. "Who
+shall say? What man can know? For ever more the gigantic fable of the
+Cross and the Man God will be overthrown. The temples of the world will
+fall into the abomination of desolation, and you and I, latter-day
+bringers of light--Lucifers!--will kill the pale Nazarene more surely
+than the Sanhedrists and soldiers of the past."
+
+There was a thin madness in his voice. The great figure of the _savant_
+shifted uneasily in its chair.
+
+"That fellow Gortre, that abominable young priest, has been getting in
+my way to-night," he said with a savage curse. "I found him with
+Gertrude Hunt, the woman I've spent thousands on! The priests have got
+her; she's going to 'lead a new life.' She has 'found Christ'!"
+
+Schuabe smiled horribly, a cunning smile of unutterable malice.
+
+"He has crossed my path also," he said; "in some way, by a series of
+coincidences, he has become slightly involved in our lives. Leave the
+matter to me. So small a thing as the fanaticism of one obscure youth is
+nothing to trouble us. I will see to his future. But he shall live to
+know what is coming to the world. Then--it is easy enough. He thwarted
+_me_ one night also."
+
+They were silent for a minute or two. Sir Robert lifted a long glass to
+his lips. His hand shook with passion, and the ice in the liquid clinked
+and tinkled.
+
+"Everything is now ready," he said at last, glancing at Schuabe. "Every
+detail. Ionides knows what he has to do when he receives the signal. He
+is a mere tool, and knows and cares nothing of what will happen. He is
+to direct the excavators in certain directions, that is all. It will be
+three months, so I calculate, after we have set the machinery in motion,
+before the blow will fall. It rests with you now to begin."
+
+"The sign shall go at once," said Schuabe. His eyes glittered, his mouth
+worked with emotion.
+
+"It is a letter with a single sign on it."
+
+"What is the sign?"
+
+"A drawing of a broken cross."
+
+"Before the day dawns we will send the broken cross to Jerusalem."
+
+
+END OF BOOK I
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+"A horror of great darkness."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+WHILE LONDON WAS SLEEPING
+
+
+In the winter, two or three weeks before Christmas, Gortre asked Father
+Ripon for a ten days' holiday, and went to Walktown to spend the time
+with Mr. Byars and Helena. Christmas itself could be no time of vacation
+for him,--the duties of St. Mary's were very heavy,--so he snatched a
+respite from work before the actual time of festival.
+
+Harold Spence was left alone in the chambers at Lincoln's Inn. The
+journalist found himself discontented, lonely, and bored. He had not
+realised before how much Basil's society had contributed to his
+happiness during the past few months. It had grown to be a necessity to
+him gradually, and, as is the case with all gradual processes, the lack
+of it surprised him with its sense of incompleteness and loss.
+
+He had spent a hard summer and autumn over very uncongenial work. For
+months there had been a curious lull and calm in the news-world. Yet day
+by day the _Daily Wire_ had to be filled. Not that there was any lack of
+material,--even in the dullest season the expert journalist will tell
+one that his difficulty is what to _leave out_ of his paper, not what to
+_put in_,--but that the material was uninteresting and dull.
+
+He felt himself that his leaders were growing rather stale, lacking in
+spontaneity. His style did not glitter and ring quite as usual. And
+Basil had helped him through this time wonderfully.
+
+One Wednesday--he remembered the day afterwards--Spence awoke about
+mid-day. He had been late at the office the night before and afterwards
+had gone to a club, not going to bed till after four.
+
+He heard the laundress moving about the chambers preparing his
+breakfast. He shouted to her, and in a minute or two she came in with
+his letters and a cup of tea. She went to the window and pulled up the
+blind, letting a dreary grey-yellow December light into the room.
+
+"Nasty day, Mrs. Buscall," he said, sipping his tea.
+
+"It is so, sir," the woman said, a lean, kindly-faced London drudge from
+a court in Drury Lane. "Gives me a frog in my throat all the time, this
+fog does. You'd better let me pour a drop of hot water in your bath,
+sir. I've got the kettle on the gas stove."
+
+The laundress had an objection to baths, deep-rooted and a matter of
+principle. The daily cold tub she regarded as suicidal, and when Gortre
+had arrived, her pained surprise at finding him also--a clergyman
+too!--addicted to such adventurous and injudicious habits had been as
+extreme as her disappointment.
+
+Spence agreed to humour her, and she began to prepare the bath.
+
+"Letter from Mr. Cyril, I see, sir," she remarked. Mrs. Buscall loved
+the arch�ologist with more strenuousness than her other two charges. The
+unusual and mysterious has a real fascination for a certain type of
+uneducated Cockney brain. Hands's rare sojourns at the chambers, the
+Eastern dresses and pictures in his room, his strange and perilous
+life--as she considered it--in the veritable Bible land, where Satan
+actually roamed the desert in the form of a lion seeking whom he might
+devour, all these stimulated her crude imagination and brought colour
+into the dreary purlieus of Drury Lane.
+
+Most of the women around Mrs. Buscall drank gin. The doings of Cyril
+Hands were sufficient tonic for her.
+
+Spence glanced at the bulky packet with its Turkish stamps and peculiar
+aroma--which the London fog had not yet killed--of ships and alien suns.
+Hands was a good correspondent. Sometimes he sent general articles on
+the work he was doing, not too technical, and Ommaney, the editor of
+Spence's paper, used and paid well for them.
+
+But on this morning Spence did not feel inclined to open the packet. It
+could wait. He was not in the humour for it now. It would be too
+tantalising to read of those deep skies like a hard, hollow turquoise,
+of the flaming white sun, the white mosques and minarets throwing purple
+shadows round the cypress and olive.
+
+"_Neque enim ignari sumus_," he muttered to himself, recalling the swing
+and freedom of his own travels, the vivid, picturesque life where, at
+great moments, he had been one of the eyes of England, flashing electric
+words to tell his countrymen of what lay before him.
+
+And now, after the chill of his bath and the rasping torture of shaving
+in winter, he must light all the gas-jets as he sat down to breakfast in
+his sitting-room!
+
+He opened the _Wire_ and glanced at his own work of the night before.
+How lifeless it seemed to him!
+
+     "Many years ago Bagehot wrote that 'Parliament expresses the
+     nation's opinions in words well, when it happens that words, not
+     laws, are wanted. On foreign matters, where we cannot legislate,
+     whatever the English nation thinks, or thinks it thinks, as to the
+     critical events of the world, whether in Denmark, in Italy or
+     America, and no matter whether it thinks wisely or unwisely, that
+     same something, wise or unwise, will be thoroughly well said in
+     Parliament.'
+
+     "We have never read a finer defence of such Parliamentary
+     discussion as the recent events in certain Continental
+     bureaucracies have given rise to, etc., etc."
+
+Words! words! words! that seemed to him to mean little and matter
+nothing. Yet as he chipped his egg he remembered that the writing of
+this leader had meant considerable mental strain. Oh, for a big
+happening abroad, when he would be sent and another would take up this
+routine work! He knew he was a far better correspondent than leader
+writer. His heart was in that work.
+
+There were one or two invitations among his letters, two books were sent
+by a young publisher, a friend of his, asking if he could get them
+"noticed" in the _Wire_, and a syllabus of some winter lectures to be
+given at Oxford House. His name was there. He was to lecture in January
+on "The Sodality of the Knights of St. John".
+
+After breakfast, the lunch time of most of the world, he found it
+impossible to settle down to anything. He was not due at the office that
+night, and the long hours, without the excitement of his work, stretched
+rather hopelessly before him. He thought of paying calls in the various
+parts of the West End, where he had friends whom he had rather neglected
+of late. But he dismissed that idea when it came, for he did not feel as
+if he could make himself very agreeable to any one.
+
+He wanted a complete change of some sort. He half thought of running
+down to Brighton, fighting the cold, bracing sea winds on the lawns at
+Hove, and returning the next day.
+
+He was certainly out of sorts, liverish no doubt, and the solution to
+his difficulties presented itself to him in the project of a Turkish
+bath.
+
+He put his correspondence into the pocket of his overcoat, to be read
+at leisure, and drove to a hammam in Jermyn Street.
+
+The physical warmth, the silence, the dim lights, and Oriental
+decorations induced a supreme sense of comfort and _bien-�tre_. It
+brought Constantinople back to him in vague reverie.
+
+Perhaps, he thought, the Turkish bath in London is the only easy way to
+obtain a sudden and absolute change of environment. Nothing else brings
+detachment so readily, is so instinct with change and the unusual.
+
+In delightful langour he passed from one dim chamber to another, lying
+prone in the great heat which surrounded him like a cloak. Then the
+vigorous kneading and massage, the gradual toning and renovating of each
+joint and muscle, till he stood drenched in aromatic foam, a new, fresh
+physical personality. The swift dive under the india-rubber curtain left
+behind the domed, dim places of heat and silence. He plunged through the
+bottle-green water of the marble pool into the hall, where lounges stood
+about by small inlaid octagonal tables, and a thin whip of a fountain
+tinkled among green palms. Wrapped from head to foot in soft white
+towels, he lay in a dream of contentment, watching the delicate spirals
+from his Cairene cigarette, and sipping the brown froth of a tiny cup of
+thick coffee.
+
+At four a slippered attendant brought him a sole and a bottle of yellow
+wine, and after the light meal he fell once more into a placid,
+restorative sleep.
+
+And all the while the letter from Jerusalem was in his overcoat pocket,
+forgotten, hung in the entrance-hall. The thing which was to alter the
+lives of thousands and ten thousands, that was to bring a cloud over
+England more dark and menacing than it had ever known, lay there with
+its stupendous message, its relentless influence, while outside the
+church bells all over London were tolling for Evensong.
+
+At length, as night was falling, Spence went out into the lighted
+streets with their sudden roar of welcome. He was immensely refreshed in
+brain and body. His thoughts moved quickly and well, depression had left
+him, the activity of his brain was unceasing.
+
+As a rule, especially for the last year or two, Spence was by no means a
+man given to casual amusements. His work was too absorbing for him to
+have time or inclination to follow pleasure. But to-night he felt in the
+humour for relaxation.
+
+He turned into St. James Street, where his club was, intending to find
+some one who would go to a music-hall with him. There was no one he knew
+intimately in the smoking-room, but soon after he arrived Lambert, one
+of the deputy curators from the British Museum, came in. Spence and
+Lambert had been at Marlborough together.
+
+Spence asked Lambert, who was in evening dress, to be his companion.
+
+"Sorry I can't, old man," he answered; "I've got to dine with my uncle,
+Sir Michael. It's a bore, of course, but it's policy. The place will be
+full of High Church bishops, minor Cabinet Ministers, and people of that
+sort. I only hope old Ripon will be there--he's my uncle's tame vicar,
+you know; uncle runs an expensive church, like some men run a
+theatre--for he's always bright and amusing. You're not working
+to-night, then?"
+
+"No, not to-night. I've been and had a Turkish bath, and I thought I'd
+wind up a day of mild dissipation by going to the Alhambra."
+
+"Sorry I can't go too--awful bore. I've had a tiring day, too, and a
+ballet would be refreshing. The governor's been in a state of filthy
+irritation and nerves for the last fortnight."
+
+"Sir Robert Llwellyn, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, he's my chief, and a very good fellow too, as a rule. He went away
+for several months, you know--travelled abroad for his health. When he
+first came back, three months ago, he looked as fit as a fiddle, and
+seemed awfully pleased with himself all round. But lately he's been
+decidedly off colour. He seems worried about something, does hardly any
+work, and always seems waiting and looking out for a coming event. He
+bothers me out of my life, always coming into my room and talking about
+nothing, or speculating upon the possibility of all sorts of new
+discoveries which will upset every one's theories."
+
+"I met him in Dieppe in the spring. He seemed all right then, just at
+the beginning of his leave."
+
+"Well, he's certainly not that now, worse luck, and confound him. He
+interferes with my work no end. Good-bye; sorry I must go."
+
+He passed softly over the heavy carpet of the smoking-room, and Spence
+was left alone once more.
+
+It was after seven o'clock.
+
+Spence wasn't hungry yet. The light meal in the hammam had satisfied
+him. He resolved to go to the Empire alone, not because the idea of
+going seemed very attractive, but because he had planned it and could
+substitute no other way of spending the evening for the first
+determination.
+
+So, about nine o'clock, he strolled into the huge, garish music-hall.
+
+He went into the Empire, and already his contentment was beginning to
+die away again. The day seemed a day of trivialities, a sordid,
+uneventful day of London gloom, which he had vainly tried to disperse
+with little futile rockets of amusement.
+
+He sat down in a stall and watched a clever juggler doing wonderful
+things with billiard balls. After the juggler a coarsely handsome
+Spanish girl came upon the stage--he remembered her at La Scala, in
+Paris. She was said to be one of the beauties of Europe, and a king's
+favourite.
+
+After the Spanish woman there were two men, "brothers" some one. One was
+disguised as a donkey--a veritable _peau de chagrin_!--the other as a
+tramp, and together they did laughable things.
+
+With a sigh he went up-stairs and moved slowly through the thronged
+promenade. The hard faces of the men and women repelled him. One elderly
+Jewish-looking person reminded him of a great grey slug. He turned into
+the American bar at one extremity of the horse-shoe. It was early yet,
+and the big room, pleasantly cool, was quite empty. A man brought him a
+long, parti-coloured drink.
+
+He felt the pressure of a packet in his pocket. It was Cyril Hands's
+letter, he found as he took it out. He thought of young Lambert at the
+club, a friend of Hands and fellow-worker in the same field, and
+languidly opened the letter.
+
+Two women came in and sat at a table not far from him as he began to
+read. He was the only man in the place, and they regarded him with a
+tense, conscious interest.
+
+They saw him open a bulky envelope with a careless manner. He would look
+up soon, they expected.
+
+But as they watched they saw a sudden, swift contraction of the brows, a
+momentous convulsion of every feature. His head bent lower towards the
+manuscript. They saw that he became very pale.
+
+In a minute or two what had at first seemed a singular paleness became a
+frightful ashen colour.
+
+"That Johnny's going to be ill," one of the women said to the other.
+
+As she spoke they saw the face change. A lurid excitement burst upon it
+like a flame. The eyes glowed, the mouth settled into swift purpose.
+
+Spence took up his hat and left the room with quick, decided steps. He
+threaded his way through the crowd round the circle--like a bed of
+orchids, surrounded by heavy, poisonous scents--and almost ran into the
+street.
+
+A cab was waiting. He got into it, and, inspired by his words and
+appearance, the man drove furiously down dark Garrick Street, and the
+blazing Strand towards the offices of the _Daily Wire_.
+
+The great building of dressed stone which stood in the middle of Fleet
+Street was dark. The advertisement halls and business offices were
+closed.
+
+Spence paid his man and dived down a long, narrow passage, paved, and
+with high walls on either side. At the end of the passage he pushed open
+some battered swing-doors. A _commissionaire_ in a little hutch touched
+his cap as Spence ran up a broad flight of stone stairs.
+
+The journalist turned down a long corridor with doors on either side.
+The glass fanlights over the doors showed that all the rooms were
+brilliantly lit within. The place was very quiet, save for the distant
+clicking of a typewriter and the thud of a "column-printer" tape machine
+as the wheel carrier shot back for a new line.
+
+He opened a door with his own name painted on it and went inside. At a
+very large writing-table, on which stood two shaded electric lights, an
+elderly man, heavily built and bearded, was writing on small slips of
+paper. There was another table in the room, a great many books on
+shelves upon the walls, and a thick carpet. The big man looked up as
+Spence came in, lifted a cup of tea which was standing by him, and drank
+a little. He nodded without speaking, and went on with his leading
+article.
+
+Spence took off his hat and coat, drew the sheets of Hands's letter from
+his pocket, and went out into the passage. At the extreme end he opened
+a door, and passing round a red baize screen found himself in Ommaney's
+room, the centre of the great web of brains and machinery which daily
+gave the _Wire_ to the world.
+
+Ommaney's room was very large, warm, and bright. It was also extremely
+tidy. The writing-table had little on it save a great blotting-pad and
+an inkstand. The books on chairs and shelves were neatly arranged.
+
+The editor sat at a table in the centre of the room, facing several
+doors which led into various departments of the staff. The chief
+sub-editor, a short, alert person, spectacled and Jewish in aspect,
+stood by Ommaney's side as Spence came in. He had proof of page three in
+his hand--that portion of the paper which consisted of news which had
+accumulated through the day. He was submitting it to the editor, so that
+the whole sheet might be finally "passed for press" and "go to the
+foundry," where the type would be pressed into _papier-m�ch�_ moulds,
+from which the final curved plates for the roller machines would be
+cast.
+
+"Not at all a bad make-up, Levita," Ommaney said, as he initialled the
+margin in blue pencil. The sub-editor hurried from the room.
+
+Ommaney was slim and pale, carefully dressed, and of medium height. He
+did not look very old. His moustache was golden and carefully tended,
+his pale, honey-coloured hair waved over a high, white forehead.
+
+"I shall want an hour," Spence said. "I've just got what may be the most
+stupendous news any newspaper has ever published."
+
+The editor looked up quickly. A flash of interest passed over his pale,
+immobile face and was gone. He knew that if Spence spoke like this the
+occasion was momentous.
+
+He looked at his watch. "Is it news for to-night's paper?" he said.
+
+"No," answered Spence. "I'm the only man in England, I think, who has it
+yet. We shall gain nothing by printing to-night. But we must settle on a
+course of action at once. That won't wait. You'll understand when I
+explain."
+
+Ommaney nodded. On the writing-table was a mahogany stand about a foot
+square. A circle was described on it, and all round the circle, like the
+figures on the face of a clock, were little ivory tablets an inch long,
+with a name printed on each. In the centre of the circle a vulcanite
+handle moved a steel bar working on a pivot. Ommaney turned the handle
+till the end of the bar rested over the tablet marked
+
+                 +--------------------+
+                 |   COMPOSING ROOM   |
+                 +--------------------+
+
+He picked up the receiver and transmitter of a portable telephone and
+asked one or two questions.
+
+When he had communicated with several other rooms in this way Ommaney
+turned to Spence.
+
+"All right," he said, "I can give you an hour now. Things are fairly
+easy to-night."
+
+He got up from the writing-table and sat down by the fire. Spence took a
+chair opposite.
+
+He seemed dazed. He was trembling with excitement, his face was pale
+with it, yet, above and beyond this agitation, there was almost fear in
+his eyes.
+
+"It's a discovery in Palestine--at Jerusalem," he said in a low,
+vibrating voice, spreading out the thin, crackling sheets of foreign
+note-paper on his knee and arranging them in order.
+
+"You know Cyril Hands, the agent of the Palestine Exploring Fund?"
+
+"Yes, quite well by reputation," said Ommaney, "and I've met him once or
+twice. Very sound man."
+
+"These papers are from him. They seem to be of tremendous importance, of
+a significance that I can hardly grasp yet."
+
+"What is the nature of them?" asked the editor, rising from his chair,
+powerfully affected in his turn by Spence's manner.
+
+Harold put his hand up to his throat, pulling at his collar; the apple
+moved up and down convulsively.
+
+"The Tomb!" Spence gasped. "The Holy Tomb!"
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Ommaney. "Another supposed burial-place of
+Christ--like the _Times_ business, when they found the Gordon Tomb, and
+Canon MacColl wrote such a lot?"
+
+His face fell a little. This, though interesting enough, and fine "news
+copy," was less than he hoped.
+
+"No, no," cried Spence, getting his voice back at last and speaking like
+a man in acute physical pain. "_A new tomb has been found. There is an
+inscription in Greek, written by Joseph of Arimath�a, and there are
+other traces._"
+
+His voice failed him.
+
+"_Go on, man, go on!_" said the editor.
+
+"_The inscription--tells that Joseph--took the body of Jesus--from his
+own garden tomb--he hid it in this place--the disciples never knew--it
+is a confession_----"
+
+Ommaney was as white as Spence now.
+
+"_There are other contributory proofs_," Spence continued. "_Hands says
+it is certain. All the details are here, read_----"
+
+Ommaney stared fixedly at his lieutenant.
+
+"_Then, if this is true_," he whispered, "_it means?_----"
+
+"THAT CHRIST NEVER ROSE FROM THE DEAD, THAT CHRISTIANITY IS ALL A LIE."
+
+Spence slipped back in his chair a little and fainted.
+
+With the assistance of two men from one of the other rooms they brought
+him back to consciousness before very long. Then while Ommaney read the
+papers Spence sat nervously in his chair, sipping some brandy-and-water
+they had brought him and trying to smoke a cigarette with a palsied
+hand.
+
+The editor finished at last. "Pull yourself together, Spence," he said
+sharply. "This is no time for sentiment. I know your beliefs, though I
+do not share them, and I can sympathise with you. But keep yourself off
+all private thoughts now. We must be extremely careful what we are
+doing. Now listen carefully to me."
+
+The keen voice roused Spence. He made a tremendous effort at
+self-control.
+
+"It seems," Ommaney went on, "that we alone know of this discovery. The
+secretary of the Palestine Exploring Society will not receive the news
+for another week, Hands says. He seems stunned, and no wonder. In about
+a fortnight his detailed papers will probably be published. I see he has
+already telegraphed privately for Dr. Schm�ulder, the German expert. Of
+course you and I are hardly competent to judge of the value of this
+communication. To me--speaking as a layman--it seems extremely clear.
+But we must of course see a specialist before publishing anything. _If
+this news is true_--and I would give all I am worth if it were not,
+though I am no Christian--of course you realise that the future history
+of the world is changed? I hold in my hand something that will come to
+millions and millions of people as an utter extinction of hope and
+light. It's impossible to say what will happen. Moral law will be
+abrogated for a time. The whole moral fabric of Society will fall into
+ruin at once until it can adjust itself to the new state of things.
+There will be war all over the world; crime will cover England like a
+cloud----"
+
+His voice faltered as the terrible picture grew in his brain.
+
+Both of them felt that mere words were utterly unable to express the
+horrors which they saw dawning.
+
+"We don't know the truth yet," said Spence, at length.
+
+"No," answered Ommaney. "I am not going to speculate on it either. I am
+beginning to realise what we are dealing with. One man's brain cannot
+hold all this. So let me ask you to regard this matter _for the present_
+simply from the standpoint of the paper, and through it, of course, from
+the standpoint of public policy----"
+
+He broke off suddenly, for there was a knock at the door. A
+_commissionaire_ entered with a telegram. It was for Spence. He opened
+the envelope, read the contents with a groan, and passed it to the
+editor.
+
+The telegram was from Hands:
+
+     "Schm�ulder entirely confirms discovery, is communicating first
+     instance with Kaiser privately, fuller details in mail, confer
+     Ommaney, make statement to Secretary Society, use Wire medium
+     publicity, leave all to you, see Prime Minister, send out Llwellyn
+     behalf Government immediately, meanwhile suggest attitude suspended
+     decision, personally fear little doubt.--HANDS."
+
+"We must act at once," said Ommaney. "We have a fearful responsibility
+now. It's not too much to say that everything depends on us. Have you
+got any of that brandy left? My head throbs like an engine."
+
+A sub-editor who came in and was briefly dismissed told his colleagues
+that something was going on in the editor's room of an extraordinary
+nature. "The chief was actually drinking a peg, and his hand shook like
+a leaf."
+
+Ommaney drank the spirits--he was an absolute teetotaler as a rule,
+though not pledged in any way to abstinence--and it revived him.
+
+"Now let us try and think," he said, lighting a cigarette and walking up
+and down the room.
+
+Spence lit a cigarette also. As he did so he gave a sudden, sharp,
+unnatural chuckle. He was smoking when the Light of the World--the whole
+great world!--was flickering into darkness.
+
+Ommaney saw him and interpreted the thought. He pulled him up at once
+with a few sharp words, for he knew that Spence was close upon hysteria.
+
+"From a news point of view," he continued, "we hold all the cards. No
+one else knows what we know. I am certain that the German papers will
+publish nothing for a day or two. The Emperor will tell them nothing,
+and they can have no other source of information; so I gather from this
+telegram. Dr. Schm�ulder will not say anything until he has instructions
+from Potsdam. That means I need not publish anything in to-morrow's
+paper. It will relieve me of a great responsibility. We shall be first
+in the field, but I shall still have a few hours to consult with
+others."
+
+He pressed a bell on the table. "Tell Mr. Jones I wish to see him," he
+told the boy who answered the summons.
+
+A young man came in, the editor of the "personal" column.
+
+"Is the Prime Minister in town, Mr. Jones?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, sir; he's here for three more days."
+
+"I shall send a message now," said Ommaney, "asking for an interview in
+an hour's time. I know he will see me. He knows that I would not come at
+this hour unless the matter were of national importance. As you know, we
+are very much in the confidence of the Cabinet just now. I dare not wait
+till to-morrow." He rapidly wrote a note and sent for Mr. Folliott
+Farmer.
+
+The big-bearded man from Spence's room entered, smoking a briar pipe.
+
+"Mr. Farmer," said Ommaney, "I suppose you've done your leader?"
+
+"Sent it up-stairs ten minutes ago," said the big man.
+
+"Then I want you to do me a favour. The matter is so important that I do
+not like to trust any one else. I want you to drive to Downing Street at
+once as hard as you can go. Take this letter for Lord ----. It is making
+an appointment for me in an hour's time. He _must_ see it himself at
+once--take my card. One of the secretaries will try and put you off, of
+course. This is irregular, but it is of international importance. When I
+tell you this you will realise that Lord ---- _must_ see the note. Bring
+me back the answer as rapidly as you can."
+
+The elderly man--his name was a household word as a political writer all
+over England and the Continent--nodded without speaking, took the
+letter, and left the room. He knew Ommaney, and realised that if he made
+a messenger boy of him, Folliott Farmer, the matter was of supreme
+importance.
+
+"That is the only thing to do," said Ommaney. "No one else would be
+possible. The Archbishop would laugh. We must go to the real head. I
+only want to put myself on the safe side before publishing. If they
+meet me properly, then for the next few days we can control public
+opinion. If not, then it is my duty to publish, and if I'm not
+officially backed up there may be war in a week. Macedonia would be
+flaming, Turkish fanatics would embroil Europe. But that will be seen at
+once in Downing Street, unless I'm very much mistaken."
+
+"It's an awful, horrible risk we are running," said Spence. He was
+forgetting all personal impressions in the excitement of the work; the
+journalist was alive in him. "Hands's letter and diagrams seem so
+flawless; he has exhausted every means of disproving what he says; but
+still supposing that it is all untrue!"
+
+"I look at it this way," said Ommaney. "It's perfectly obvious, at any
+rate, that the discovery is of the first importance, regarded as news.
+Hands has the reputation of being a thoroughly safe man, and now he is
+supported by Schm�ulder. Schm�ulder is, of course, a man of world-wide
+reputation. As these two are certain, even if later opinion or discovery
+proves the thing to be untrue, the paper can't suffer. Our attitude
+will, of course, be non-committal, until certainty one way or the other
+comes. At any rate, it seems to me that you have brought in the greatest
+newspaper 'scoop' that has ever been known or thought of. For my part, I
+have little doubt of the truth of this. Can't go into it now, but it
+seems so very, very probable. It _explains_, and even _corroborates_,
+and that's the wonderful thing, so much of the Gospel narrative. We
+shall see what Llwellyn says. I've more to go into, but, meanwhile, I
+must make arrangements for setting up Hands's papers. Then there are the
+inscriptions, too. Of course they must be reproduced in facsimile. As we
+can't print in half-tone, I must have the photograph turned into an
+absolutely correct line drawing, and have line blocks made. I shall
+have pulls of the whole thing prepared and sent by post to-morrow at
+midnight to the editors of all the dailies in London and Paris, and to
+the heads of the Churches. I shall also prepare a statement, showing
+exactly how the documents have come into our possession and what steps
+we are taking. I shall write the thing to-night, after I have seen the
+Prime Minister."
+
+He went to his writing-table once more, moved the telephone indicator,
+and summoned the foreman printer.
+
+In a few moments a lean Scotchman in his shirt sleeves--one of the most
+autocratic and important people connected with the paper--came into the
+room.
+
+"I want an absolutely reliable linotype operator, Burness," said
+Ommaney. "He will have to set up some special copy for me after the
+paper's gone to press. It'll take him till breakfast-time. I want a man
+who will not talk. The thing is private and important. And it must be a
+man who can set up from the Greek font by hand also. There are some
+quotations in Greek included in the text."
+
+"Well, sirr," said the man, with a strong Scotch accent, "I can find ye
+a guid operrator to stay till morning, but aboot his silence--if it's of
+great moment--I wouldn't say, and aboot his aptitude for setting up
+Greek type I hae nae doot whatever. There's no a lino operrator in the
+building wha can do it. Some of the men at the case might, but that'll
+be keeping two men. Is it verra important, Mr. Ommaney?"
+
+"More important than anything I have ever dealt with."
+
+"Then ye'll please jist give the copy into my own hands, sirr. I'll do
+the lino and the case warrk mysel' and pull a galley proof for ye too.
+No one shall see the copy but me."
+
+"Thank you, Burness," said the editor. "I'm very much obliged. I shall
+be here till morning. I shall go out in an hour and be back by the time
+the machines are running down-stairs. Then the composing-room will be
+empty and you can get to work."
+
+"I'll start directly the plates have gone down to the foundry and the
+men are off, just keeping one hand to see to the gas-engine."
+
+"And, Burness, lock up the galley safely when you come down with the
+proof."
+
+"I'll do it, sir," and the great man--indispensable, and earning his six
+hundred a year--went away with the precious papers.
+
+"That is perfectly safe with Burness," said Spence, as the foreman
+compositor retired. "He will make no mistakes either. He is a capital
+Greek scholar, corrects the proof-readers themselves often."
+
+"Yes," answered Ommaney, "I know. I shall leave everything in his hands.
+Then late to-morrow night, just before the forms go to the foundry, I
+shall shove the whole thing in before any one knows anything about it,
+and nothing can get round to any other office. Burness will know about
+it beforehand, and he'll be ready to break up a whole page for this
+stuff. Of course, as far as leaders go and comment, I shall be guided
+very much by the result of my interview to-night and others to-morrow
+morning. I shall send off several cables before dawn to Palestine and
+elsewhere."
+
+Once more the editor began to pace up and down the room, thinking
+rapidly, decisively, deeply. The slim, fragile body was informed with
+power by the splendid brain which animated it.
+
+The rather languid, silent man was utterly changed. Here one could see
+the strength and force of the personality which directed and controlled
+the second, perhaps the first, most powerful engine of public opinion in
+the world. The millionaires who paid this frail-looking, youthful man
+an enormous sum to direct their paper for them knew what they were
+about. They had bought one of the finest living executive brains and
+made it a potentate among its fellows. This man who, when he was not at
+the office, or holding some hurried colloquy with one of the rulers of
+the world, was asleep in a solitary flat at Kensington, knew that he had
+an accepted right to send a message to Downing Street, such as he had
+lately done. No one knew his face--no one of the great outside public;
+his was hardly even a name to be recognised in passing, yet he, and
+Spence, and Folliott Farmer could shake a continent with their words.
+And though all knew it, or would at least have realised it had they ever
+given it a thought, the absolute self-effacement of journalism made it a
+matter of no moment to any of them.
+
+While Englishmen read their dicta, and unconsciously incorporated them
+into their own pronouncements, mouthing them in street, market, and
+forum, these men slept till the busy day was over, and once more with
+the setting of the sun stole out to their almost furtive and yet
+tremendous task.
+
+Every now and then Ommaney strode to the writing-table and made a rapid
+note on a sheet of paper.
+
+At last he turned to Spence.
+
+"I am beginning to have our line of action well marked out in my brain,"
+he said. "The thing is grouping itself very well. I am beginning to see
+my way. Now about you, Spence. Of course this thing is yours. At any
+rate you brought it here. Later on, of course, we shall show our
+gratitude in some substantial way. That will depend upon the upshot of
+the whole thing. Meanwhile, you will be quite wasted in London. I and
+Farmer and Wilson can deal with anything and everything here. Of course
+I would rather have you on the spot, but I can use you far better
+elsewhere."
+
+"Then?" said Spence.
+
+"You must go to Jerusalem at once. Start for Paris to-morrow morning at
+nine; you'd better go round to your chambers and pack up now and then
+come back here till it's time to start. You can sleep _en route_. I
+shall be here till breakfast-time, and I can give you final
+instructions."
+
+He used the telephone once more and his secretary came in.
+
+"Mr. Spence starts for Palestine to-morrow morning, Marriott," he said.
+"He is going straight through to Jerusalem as fast as may be. Oblige me
+by getting out a route for him at once, marking all the times for
+steamers and trains, etc., in a clear scheme for Mr. Spence to take with
+him. Be very careful with the Continental timetables indeed. If you can
+see any delay anywhere which will be likely to occur, go down to Cook's
+early in the morning and make full inquiries. If it is necessary,
+arrange for any special trains that may be necessary. Mr. Spence must
+not be delayed a day. Also map out various points on the journey, with
+the proper times, where we can telegraph instructions to Mr. Spence. Go
+down to Mr. Woolford and ask him for a hundred pounds in notes and give
+them to Mr. Spence. You will arrange about the usual letter of credit
+during the day and wire Mr. Spence at Paris after lunch."
+
+The young man went out to do his part in the great organisation which
+Ommaney controlled.
+
+"Then you'll be back between three and four?" Ommaney said.
+
+"Yes, I'll go and pack at once," Spence answered. "My passport from the
+Foreign Office is all right now."
+
+He rose to go, vigorous, and with an inexpressible sense of relief at
+the active prospect before him. There would be no time for haunting
+thought, for personal fears yet. He was going, himself, to the very
+heart of things, to see and to gain personal knowledge of these events
+which were shadowing the world.
+
+The door opened as he rose and Folliott Farmer strode in. With him was a
+tall, distinguished man of about five-and-thirty; he was in evening
+dress and rather bald.
+
+It was Lord Trelyon, the Prime Minister's private secretary.
+
+"I thought I would come myself with Mr. Farmer, Mr. Ommaney," he said,
+shaking hands cordially. "Lord ---- will see you. He tells me to say
+that if it is absolutely imperative he will see you. I suppose there is
+no doubt of that?"
+
+"None whatever, I'm sorry to say, Lord Trelyon," the editor answered.
+"Farmer, will you take charge till I return?"
+
+He slipped on his overcoat and a felt hat and left the room with the
+secretary without looking back. Spence followed the two down the
+stairs--the tall, athletic young fellow and the slim, nervous
+journalist. These were just driving furiously towards the Law Courts as
+Spence turned into Fleet Street on his way to Lincoln's Inn.
+
+Fleet Street was brilliantly lit and almost silent. A few cabs hovered
+about and that was all. Presently all the air would be filled with the
+dull roar and hum of the great printing machines in their underground
+halls, but the press hour was hardly yet.
+
+The porter let him into the Inn, and in a few moments he was striking
+matches and lighting the gas. Mrs. Buscall had cleared away the
+breakfast things, but the fire had long since gone out. The big rooms
+looked very bare and solitary, unfamiliar almost, as the gas-jets hissed
+in the silence.
+
+One or two letters were in the box. One envelope bore the Manchester
+post-mark. It was from Basil Gortre. A curious pang, half wonder and
+anticipation, half fear, passed through his mind as he saw the familiar
+handwriting of his friend. But it was a pang for Gortre, not for
+himself. He himself was wholly detached now that the time for action had
+arrived. Personal consideration would come later. At present he was
+starting out on the old trail--"The old trail, the long trail, the trail
+that is always new."
+
+He felt a _man_ again, with a fierce joy and exultation throbbing in all
+his veins after the torpor of the last few weeks.
+
+He sat down at the table, first getting some bread and cheese from a
+cupboard, for he was hungry, and opening a bottle of beer. The beer
+tasted wonderfully good. He laughed exultingly in the flow of his high
+spirits.
+
+He wrote a note to Mrs. Buscall, long since inured to these sudden
+midnight departures, and another to Gortre. To him he said that some
+great and momentous discoveries were made at Jerusalem by Hands, and
+that he himself was starting at once for the Holy City as special
+correspondent for the _Wire_. He would write _en route_, he explained,
+there was no time for any details now.
+
+"Poor chap," he said to himself, "he'll know soon enough now. I hope he
+won't take it very badly."
+
+Then he went into his bedroom and hauled down the great pig-skin
+kit-bag, covered with foreign labels, which had accompanied him half
+over the world.
+
+He packed quickly and completely, the result of long practice. The pads
+of paper, the stylographic pens, with the special ink for hot countries
+which would not dry up or corrode, his revolvers, riding-breeches, boots
+and spurs, the kodak, with spare films and light-tight zinc cases, the
+old sun helmet--he forgot nothing.
+
+When he had finished, and the big bag, with a small Gladstone also, was
+strapped and locked, he changed joyously from the black coat of cities
+into his travelling tweeds of tough cloth. At length everything seemed
+prepared. He sat on the bed and looked round him, willing to be gone.
+
+His eye fell on the opposite wall. A crucifix hung there, carved in
+ebony and ivory. During his short holiday at Dieppe, nearly nine months
+ago now, he had gone into the famous little shop there where carved work
+of all kinds is sold. Basil and Helena were with him and they had all
+bought mementoes. Helena had given him that.
+
+And as he looked at it now he wondered what his journey would bring
+forth. Was he, indeed, chosen out of men to go to this far country to
+tear Christ from that awful and holy eminence of the Cross? Was it to be
+his mission to extinguish the _Lux Mundi_?
+
+As he gazed at the sacred emblem he felt that this could not be.
+
+No, no! a thousand times no. Jesus _had_ risen to save him and all other
+sinners. It _was_ so, must be so, should be so.
+
+The Holy Name was in itself enough. He whispered it to himself. No,
+_that_ was eternally, gloriously true.
+
+Humbly, faithfully, gladly he knelt among the litter of the room and
+said the Lord's Prayer, said it in Latin as he had said it at school--
+
+    _Pater noster!_
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+AVOIDING THE FLOWER PATTERN ON THE CARPET
+
+
+Sir Michael Manichoe, the stay and pillar of "Anglicanism" in the
+English Church, was a man of great natural gifts. The owner of one of
+those colossal Jewish fortunes which, few as they are, have such
+far-reaching influence upon English life, he employed it in a way which,
+for a man in his position, was unique.
+
+He presented the curious spectacle, to sociologists and the world at
+large, of a Jew by origin who had become a Christian by conviction and
+one of the sincerest sons of the English Church as he understood it. In
+political life Sir Michael was a steady, rather than a brilliant, force.
+He had been Home Secretary under a former Conservative administration,
+but had retired from office. At the present moment he was a private
+member for the division in which his country house, Fencastle, stood,
+and he enjoyed the confidence of the chiefs of his party.
+
+His great talent was for organisation, and all his powers in that
+direction were devoted towards the preservation and unification of the
+Church to which he was a convert.
+
+Sir Michael's convictions were perfectly clear and straightforward. He
+believed, with all his heart, in the Catholicity of the Anglican
+persuasion. Roman priests he spoke of as "members of the Italian
+mission"; Nonconformists as "adherents to the lawless bands of Dissent."
+He allowed the validity of Roman orders and spoke of the Pope as the
+"Bishop of Rome," an Italian ecclesiastic with whom the English
+communion had little or nothing to do.
+
+In his intimate and private life Sir Michael lived according to rubric.
+His splendid private chapel at Fencastle enjoyed the services of a
+chaplain, reinforced by priests from a community of Anglican monks which
+Sir Michael had established in an adjacent village. In London, St.
+Mary's was, in some sense, his particular property. He spent fabulous
+sums on the big Bloomsbury Parish and the needs of its great,
+cathedral-like church. There was no vicar in London who enjoyed the
+command of money that Father Ripon enjoyed. Certainly there was no other
+priest in the ranks of the High Churchmen who was the confidential
+friend and spiritual director of so powerful a political and social
+personality.
+
+Yet in his public life Sir Michael was diplomatic enough. He worked
+steadily for one thing, it is true, but he was far too able to allow
+people to call him narrow-minded. The Oriental strain of cunning in his
+blood had sweetened to a wise diplomacy. While he always remembered he
+was a Churchman, he did not forget that to be an effective and helpful
+one he must keep his political and social eminence. And so, whatever
+might take place behind the scenes in the library with Father Ripon, or
+in the Bloomsbury clergy house, the baronet showed the world the face of
+a man of the world, and neither obtruded his private views nor allowed
+them to disturb his colleagues.
+
+The day after the news arrived in Fleet Street from Palestine--while
+nothing was yet known and Harold Spence was rushing through Amiens _en
+route_ for Paris and the East--a house party began to collect at
+Fencastle, the great place in Lincolnshire.
+
+For a day or two a few rather important people were to meet under Sir
+Michael's roof. Now and then the palace in the fen lands was the scene
+of notable gatherings, much talked of in certain circles and commented
+on by people who would truthfully have described themselves as being "in
+the know."
+
+These parties were, indeed, congresses of the eminent, the "big" people
+who quietly control an England which the ignorant and the vulgar love to
+imagine is in the hands of a corrupt society of well-born, "smart," and
+pleasure-seeking people.
+
+The folk who gathered at Fencastle were as remote from the gambling,
+lecherous, rabbit-brained set which glitters so brightly before the eyes
+of the uninformed as any staid, middle-class reader of the popular
+journals.
+
+In this stronghold of English Catholicism--"hot-bed of ritualists" as
+the brawling "Protestant" journals called it, one met a diversity of
+people, widely divided in views and only alike in one thing--the
+dominant quality of their brains and position.
+
+Sir Michael thought it well that even his professed opponents should
+meet at his table, for it gave both him and his lieutenants new data and
+fresh impressions for use in the campaign. Sir Michael's convictions
+were perfectly unalterable, but to find out how others--and those
+hostile--really regarded them only added to the weapons in his armoury.
+
+And, as one London priest once remarked to another, the combination of a
+Jewish brain and a Christian heart was one which had already
+revolutionised Society nearly two thousand years ago in the persons of
+eleven distinguished instances.
+
+As Father Ripon drove to Liverpool Street Station after lunch, to catch
+the afternoon train to the eastern counties, he was reading a letter as
+his cab turned into Cheapside and crawled slowly through the heavy
+afternoon traffic of the city.
+
+     " ... It will be as well for you to see the man _� huisclos_ and
+     form your own opinions. There can be no doubt that he is a force to
+     be reckoned with, and he is, moreover, as I think you will agree
+     after inspection, far more brilliant and able than any other
+     _professed_ antichristian of the front rank. Then there will also
+     be Mrs. Hubert Armstrong. She is a pseudo-intellectual force, but
+     her writings have a certain heaviness and authoritative note which
+     I believe to have real influence with the large class of
+     semi-educated people who mistake an _atmosphere_ of knowledge for
+     knowledge itself. A very charming woman, by the way, and I think
+     sincere. Matthew Arnold and water!
+
+     "The Duke of Suffolk will stop a night on his way home. He writes
+     that he wishes to see you. As you know, he is just back from Rome,
+     and now that they have definitely pronounced against the validity
+     of Anglican orders he is most anxious to have a further chat with
+     you in order to form a working opinion as to _our_ position. From
+     his letter to me, and the extremely interesting account he gives of
+     his interview at the Vatican, I gather that the Roman Church still
+     utterly misunderstands our attitude, and that hopes there are high
+     of the ultimate "conversion" of England. I hope that as a
+     representative of English Churchmen you will be able to define what
+     we think in an unmistakable way. This will have value. Among my
+     other guests you will meet Canon Walke. He is preaching in Lincoln
+     Cathedral on the Sunday, fresh from Windsor. "Render unto C�sar"
+     will, I allow myself to imagine, not be an unlikely text for his
+     homily.--I am, Father, yours most sincerely,
+
+          "M. M."
+
+Still thinking carefully over Sir Michael's letter, Father Ripon bought
+his ticket and made his way to the platform.
+
+He got into a first-class carriage. While in London the priest lived a
+life of asceticism and simplicity which was not so much a considered
+thing as the outcome of an absolute and unconscious carelessness about
+personal and material comfort; when he went thus to a great country
+house, he complied with convention because it was politic.
+
+He was the grandson of a peer, and, though he laughed at these small
+points, he wished to meet his friend's opinions in any reasonable way,
+rather than to flout them.
+
+The carriage was empty, though a pile of newspapers and a travelling rug
+in one corner showed Father Ripon that he was to have one companion at
+any rate upon the journey.
+
+He had bought the _Church Times_ at the bookstall and was soon deeply
+immersed in the report of a Bampton Lecture delivered during the week at
+the University Church in Oxford.
+
+Some one entered the carriage, the door was shut, and the train began to
+move out of the station, but he was too interested to look up to see who
+his companion might be.
+
+A voice broke in upon his thoughts as they were tearing through the
+wide-spread slums of Bethnal Green.
+
+"Do you mind if I smoke, sir? This isn't a smoking carriage, but we are
+alone----"
+
+It was an ordinary query enough. "Oh, dear, no!" said the priest.
+"Please do, to your heart's content. It doesn't inconvenience _me_."
+
+Father Ripon's quick, breezy manner seemed to interest the stranger. He
+looked up and saw a personality. Obviously this clergyman was some one
+of note. The heavy brows, the hawk-like nose, the large, firm, and yet
+kindly mouth, all these seemed familiar in some vague way.
+
+For his part, Father Ripon experienced much the same sensation as he
+glanced at the tall stranger. His hair, which could be seen beneath his
+ordinary hard felt hat, was dark red and somewhat abundant. His features
+were Semitic, but without a trace of that fulness, and often coarseness,
+which sometimes marks the Jew who has come to the period of middle life.
+The large black eyes were neither dull nor lifeless, but simply cold,
+irresponsive, and alert. A massive jaw completed an impression which was
+remarkable in its fineness and almost sinister beauty.
+
+The priest found it remarkable but with no sense of strangeness. He had
+seen the man before.
+
+Recognition came to Schuabe first.
+
+"Excuse me," he said, "but surely you are Father Ripon? I am Constantine
+Schuabe."
+
+Ripon gave a merry chuckle. "I knew I knew you!" he said, "but I
+couldn't think quite who you were for a moment. Sir Michael tells me
+you're going to Fencastle; so am I."
+
+Schuabe leaned back in his seat and regarded Father Ripon with a steady
+and calm scrutiny, somewhat with the manner of a naturalist examining a
+curious specimen, with a suggestion of aloofness in his eyes.
+
+Suddenly Father Ripon smiled rather sternly, and the deep furrows which
+sprang into his cheeks showed the latent strength and power of the face.
+
+"Well, Mr. Schuabe," he said abruptly, "the train doesn't stop anywhere
+for an hour, so willy-nilly you're locked up with a priest!"
+
+"A welcome opportunity, Father Ripon, to convince one that perhaps the
+devil isn't as black as he's painted."
+
+"I've read your books," said Ripon, "and I believe you are sincere, Mr.
+Schuabe. It's not a personal question at all. At the same time, if I had
+the power, you know I should cheerfully execute you or imprison you for
+life, not out of revenge for what you have done, but as a precautionary
+measure. You should have no further opportunity of doing harm." He
+smiled grimly as he spoke.
+
+"Rather severe, Father," said Schuabe laughing. "Because I find that in
+a rational view of history there is no place for a Resurrection and
+Ascension you would give me your blessing and an _auto da f�_!"
+
+"I rather believe in stern measures, sometimes," answered the clergyman,
+with an underlying seriousness, though he spoke half in jest. "Not for
+_all_ heretics, you know--only the dangerous ones."
+
+"You are afraid of _intellect_ when it is brought to bear on these
+questions."
+
+"I thought that would be your rejoinder. Superficially it is a very
+telling one, because there is nothing so insidious as a half-truth. In a
+sense what you say is true. There are a great many Christians whose
+faith is weak and whose natural inclinations, assisted by supernatural
+temptations, are towards a life of sin. Christianity keeps them from it.
+Now, your books come in the way of such people as these far more readily
+and easily than works of Christian apologetics written with equal power.
+An _attack_ upon our position has all the elements of popularity and
+novelty. _It is more seen._ For example, ten thousand people have heard
+of your _Christ Reconceived_ for every ten who know Lathom's _Risen
+Master_. You have said the last word for agnosticism and made it widely
+public, the Master of Trinity Hall has said the last word for
+Christianity and only scholars know of it. It isn't the strength of your
+case which makes you dangerous, it's the ignorance of the public and a
+condition of affairs which makes it possible for you to shout loudest."
+
+"Well, there is at least a half-truth in what you say also, Mr. Ripon,"
+said Schuabe. "But you don't seem to have brought anything to eat. Will
+you share my luncheon basket? There is quite enough for two people."
+
+Father Ripon had been called away after the early Eucharist, and had
+quite forgotten to have any breakfast.
+
+"Thank you very much," he said; "I will. I suddenly seem to be hungry,
+and after all there is scriptural precedent for spoiling the Egyptians!"
+
+Both laughed again, sheathed their weapons, and began to eat.
+
+Each of them was a man of the world, cultured, with a charming
+personality. Each knew the other was impervious to attack.
+
+Only once, as the short afternoon was darkening and they were
+approaching their destination, did Schuabe refer to controversial
+subjects. The carriage was shadowed and dusky as they rushed through the
+desolate fenlands. The millionaire lit a match for a cigarette, and the
+sudden flare showed the priest's face, set and stern. He seemed to be
+thinking deeply.
+
+"What would you say or do, Father Ripon," Schuabe asked, in a tone of
+interested curiosity,--"What would you do if some stupendous thing were
+to happen, something to occur which proved without doubt that Christ was
+not divine? Supposing that it suddenly became an absolute fact, a
+historical fact which every one must accept?"
+
+"Some new discovery, you mean?"
+
+"Well, if you like; never mind the actual means. Assume for a moment
+that it became certain as an historical fact that the Resurrection did
+not take place. I say that the ignorant love of Christ's followers
+wreathed His life in legend, that the true story was from the beginning
+obscured by error, hysteria, and mistake. Supposing something proved
+what I say in such a way as to leave no loophole for denial. What would
+you do? As a representative Churchman, what would you do? This interests
+me."
+
+"Well, you are assuming an impossibility, and I can't argue on such a
+postulate. But, if for a moment what you say _could_ happen, I might not
+be able to deny these proofs, but I should never believe them."
+
+"But surely----"
+
+"Christ is _within_; I have found Him myself without possibility of
+mistake; day and night I am in communion with Him."
+
+"Ah!" said Schuabe, dryly, "there is no convincing a person who takes
+_that_ attitude. But it is rare."
+
+"Faith is weak in the world," said the priest, with a sigh, as the train
+drew up in the little wayside station.
+
+A footman took their luggage to a carriage which was waiting, and they
+drove off rapidly through the twilight, over the bare brown fen with a
+chill leaden sky meeting it on the horizon, towards Fencastle.
+
+Sir Michael's house was an immemorial feature of those parts. Josiah
+Manichoe, his father, had bought it from old Lord Lostorich. To this day
+Sir Michael paid two pounds each year, as "Knight's fee," to the lord of
+the manor at Denton, a fee first paid in 1236. As it stood now, the
+house was Tudor in exterior, covering a vast area with its stately,
+explicit, and yet homelike, rather than "homely," beauty.
+
+The interior of the house was treated with great judgment and artistic
+ability. A successful effort had been made to combine the greatest
+measure of modern comfort without unduly disturbing the essential
+character of the place. Thus Father Ripon found himself in an ancient
+bedroom with a painted ceiling and panelled walls. The furniture was in
+keeping with the design, but electric lamps had been fitted to the
+massive pewter sconces on the wall, and the towel-rail by the
+washing-stand was made of copper tubing through which hot water passed
+constantly.
+
+The dinner-gong boomed at eight and Ripon went down into the great hall,
+where a group of people were standing round an open fire of peat and
+coal.
+
+Mrs. Bardilly, a widowed sister of Sir Michael's, acted as hostess, a
+quiet, matronly woman, very Jewish in aspect, shrewd and placid in
+temper, an admirable _ch�telaine_.
+
+Talking to her was Mrs. Hubert Armstrong, the famous woman novelist.
+Mrs. Armstrong was tall and grandly built. Her grey hair was drawn over
+a massive, manlike brow in smooth folds, her face was finely chiselled.
+The mouth was large, rather sweet in expression, but with a slight
+hinting of "superiority" in repose and condescension in movement. When
+she spoke, always in full, well-chosen periods, it was with an air of
+somewhat final pronouncement. She was ever _ex cathedra_.
+
+The lady's position was a great one. Every two or three years she
+published a weighty novel, admirably written, full of real culture, and
+without a trace of humour. In those productions, treatises rather than
+novels, the theme was generally that of a high-bred philosophical
+negation of the Incarnation. Mrs. Armstrong pitied Christians with
+passionate certainty. Gently and lovingly she essayed to open blinded
+eyes to the truth. With great condescension she still believed in God
+and preached Christ as a mighty teacher.
+
+One of her utterances suffices to show the colossal arrogance--almost
+laughable were it not so _bizarre_--of her intellect:
+
+     "_The world has expanded since Jesus preached in the dim ancient
+     cities of the East. Men and women of to-day cannot learn the_
+     complete _lesson of God from him now--indeed they could not in
+     those old times. But all that is most necessary in forming
+     character, all that makes for pureness and clarity of soul--this
+     Jesus has still for us as he had for the people of his own time._"
+
+After the enormous success of her book, _John Mulgrave_, Mrs. Armstrong
+more than half believed she had struck a final blow at the errors of
+Christianity.
+
+Shrewd critics remarked that _John Mulgrave_ described the perversion of
+the hero with great skill and literary power, while quite forgetting to
+recapitulate the arguments which had brought it about.
+
+The woman was really educated, but her success was with half-educated
+readers. Her works excited to a sort of frenzy clergymen who realised
+their insidious hollowness. Her success was real; her influence appeared
+to be real also. It was a deplorable fact that she swayed fools.
+
+By laying on the paint very thick and using bright colours, Mrs.
+Armstrong caught the class immediately below that which read the works
+of Constantine Schuabe. They were captain and lieutenant, formidable in
+coalition.
+
+A short, carelessly dressed man--his evening tie was badly arranged and
+his trousers were ill cut--was the Duke of Suffolk. His face was covered
+with dust-coloured hair, his eyes bright and restless. The Duke was the
+greatest Roman Catholic nobleman in England. His vast wealth and eager,
+though not first-class, brain were devoted entirely to the conversion of
+the country. He was beloved by men of all creeds.
+
+Canon Walke, the great popular preacher, was a handsome man, portly,
+large, and gracious in manner. He was destined for high preferment, a
+_persona grata_ at Court, suave and redolent of the lofty circles in
+which he moved.
+
+Canon Walke was talking to Schuabe with great animation and a sort of
+purring geniality.
+
+Dinner was a very pleasant meal. Every one talked well. Great events in
+Society and politics were discussed by the people who were themselves
+responsible for them.
+
+Here was the inner circle itself, serene, bland, and guarded from the
+crowd outside. And perhaps, with the single exception of Father Ripon,
+who never thought about it at all, every one was pleasantly conscious of
+pulling the strings. They sat, Jove-like, kindly tolerant of lesser
+mortals, discussing, over a dessert, what they should do for the world.
+
+At eleven nearly every one had retired for the night. Father Ripon and
+his host sat talking in the library for another hour discussing church
+matters. At twelve these two also retired.
+
+And now the great house was silent save for the bitter winter wind which
+sobbed and moaned round the towers.
+
+It was the eve of the twelfth of December. The world was as usual and
+the night came to England with no hintings of the morrow.
+
+Far away in Lancashire, Basil Gortre was sleeping calmly after a long,
+quiet evening with Helena and her father.
+
+Father Ripon had said his prayers and lay half dreaming in bed, watching
+the firelight glows and shadows on the panelling and listening to the
+fierce outside wind as if it were a lullaby.
+
+Mrs. Hubert Armstrong was touching up an article for the _Nineteenth
+Century_ in her bedroom. An open volume of Renan stood by her side; here
+and there the lady deftly paraphrased a few lines. Occasionally she
+sipped a cup of black-currant tea--an amiable weakness of this paragon
+when engaged upon her stirring labours.
+
+In the next room Schuabe, with haggard face and twitching lips, paced
+rapidly up and down. From the door to the dressing-table--seven steps.
+From there to the fireplace--ten steps--avoiding the flower pattern of
+the carpet, stepping only on the blue squares. Seven! ten! and then back
+again.
+
+Ten, seven, turn. A cold, soft dew came out upon his face, dried,
+hardened, and burst forth again.
+
+Seven, ten, stop for a glass of water, and then on again, rapidly,
+hurriedly; the dawn is coming very near.
+
+Ten! seven! turn!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+"I, JOSEPH"
+
+
+At about nine o'clock the next morning there was a knock at Father
+Ripon's door and Lindner, Sir Michael's confidential man, entered.
+
+He seemed slightly agitated.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Father," he said, "but Sir Michael instructed me to
+come to you at once. Sir Michael begs that you will read the columns
+marked in this paper and then join him at once in his own room."
+
+The man bowed slightly and went noiselessly away.
+
+Impressed with Lindner's manner, Father Ripon sat up in bed and opened
+the paper. It was a copy of the _Daily Wire_ which had just arrived by
+special messenger from the station.
+
+The priest's eyes fell first upon the news summary. A paragraph was
+heavily scored round with ink.
+
+     "_Page 7._--A communication of the utmost gravity and importance
+     reaches us from Palestine, dealing with certain discoveries at
+     Jerusalem, made by Mr. Cyril Hands, the agent of the Palestine
+     Exploring Fund, and Herr Schm�ulder, the famous German historian."
+
+Ripon turned hastily to the seventh page of the paper, where all the
+foreign telegrams were. This is what he read:
+
+     "NOTE
+
+     "_In reference to the following statements, the Editor wishes it to
+     be distinctly understood that he prints them without comment or
+     bias. Nothing can yet be definitely known as to the truth of what
+     is stated here until the strictest investigations have been made.
+     Our special Commissioner left London for the East twenty-four hours
+     ago. The Editor of this paper is in communication with the Prime
+     Minister and His Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury. A special
+     edition of the 'Daily Wire' will be published at two o'clock this
+     afternoon._
+
+     "MOMENTOUS NEWS FROM JERUSALEM
+
+     "For the last three months, under a new firman granted by the
+     Turkish Government, the authorities of the Palestine Exploring
+     Society have been engaged in extensive operations in the waste
+     ground beyond the Damascus Gate at Jerusalem.
+
+     "It is in this quarter, as arch�ologists and students will be
+     aware, that some years ago the reputed site of Calvary and the Holy
+     Sepulchre was placed. Considerable discussion was raised at the
+     time and the evidence for and against the new and the traditional
+     sites was hotly debated.
+
+     "Ten days ago, Mr. Cyril Hands, M.A., the learned and trusted
+     English explorer, made a further discovery which may prove to be
+     far-reaching in its influence on Christian peoples.
+
+     "During the excavations a system of tombs were discovered, dating
+     from forty or fifty years before Christ, according to Mr. Hands's
+     estimate. The tombs are indisputably Jewish and not Christian, a
+     fact which is proved by the presence of _k�k�m_, characteristic of
+     Jewish tombs in preference to the usual Christian _arcosolia_. They
+     are Herodian in character.
+
+     "These tombs consist of an irregularly cut group of two chambers.
+     The door is coarsely moulded. Both chambers are crooked, and in
+     their floors are four-sided depressions, 1 foot 2 inches deep in
+     the outer, 2 feet in the inner chamber. The roof of the outer
+     chamber is 6 feet above its floor, that of the inner 5 feet 2
+     inches.
+
+     "The doorway leading to the inner tomb was built up into stone
+     blocks. Fragments of that coating of broken brick and pounded
+     pottery, which is still used in Palestine under the name _hamra_,
+     which lay at the foot of the sealed entrance, showed that it had at
+     one time been plastered over, and was in the nature of a secret
+     room.
+
+     "In the depression in the floor of the outer room was found a
+     minute fragment of a glass receptacle containing a small quantity
+     of blackish powder. This has been analysed by M. Constant Allard,
+     the French chemist. The glass vessel he found to be an ordinary
+     silicate which had become devitrified and coloured by oxide of
+     iron. The contents were finely divided lead and traces of antimony,
+     showing it to be one of the cosmetics prepared for purposes of
+     sepulture.
+
+     "When the interior of the second tomb had been reached, a single
+     _loculus_ or stone slab for the reception of a body was found.
+
+     "Over the _loculus_ the following Greek inscription in uncial
+     characters was found in a state of good preservation, with the
+     exception of two letters:
+
+     "[_See drawing of inscription on this page, made from photographs
+     in our possession. We print the inscription below in cursive Greek
+     text, afterwards dividing it into its component words and giving
+     its translation.--Editor, Daily Wire._]
+
+
+     FACSIMILE IN MODERN GREEK SCRIPT
+
+     =Eg�i�s�phoapoarimatheiaslab�
+     ntos�matoui�soutouapona**
+     retapotoumn�meiouopoutopr�t
+     onekeitoent�top�tout�enekrypsa=
+
+     **=lacun� of two letters.
+
+
+     FINAL READING OF THE INSCRIPTION
+
+     =Eg� I�s�ph ho apo Arimatheias lab�n to s�ma tou I�sou
+     tou apo Na[za]ret apo tou mn�meiou hopou to pr�ton
+     ekeito en t� top� tout� enekrypsa=
+
+     [] = letters supplied.
+
+
+     "TRANSLATION INTO ENGLISH OF THE INSCRIPTION
+
+     "I, JOSEPH OF ARIMATH�A, TOOK THE BODY OF
+     JESUS, THE NAZARENE, FROM THE TOMB WHERE IT
+     WAS FIRST LAID AND HID IT IN THIS PLACE.
+
+
+     "The slight mould on the stone slab, which may or may not be that
+     of a decomposed body, has been reverently gathered into a sealed
+     vessel by Mr. Hands, who is waiting instructions.
+
+     "Dr. Schm�ulder, the famous _savant_ from Berlin, has arrived at
+     Jerusalem, and is in communication with the German Emperor
+     regarding the discovery.
+
+     "At present it would be presumptuous and idle to comment upon these
+     stupendous facts. It seems our duty, however, to quote a final
+     passage from Mr. Hands's communication, and to state that we have a
+     cablegram in our possession from Dr. Schm�ulder, which states that
+     he is in entire agreement with Mr. Hands's conclusions.
+
+     "To sum up. There now seems no shadow of doubt that the
+     disappearance of The Body of Christ from the first tomb is
+     accounted for, and that the Resurrection as told in the Gospels did
+     not take place. Joseph of Arimath�a here confesses that he stole
+     away the body, probably in order to spare the Disciples and friends
+     of the dead Teacher, with whom he was in sympathy, the shame and
+     misery of the final end to their hopes.
+
+     "The use of the first aorist '=enekrypsa=,' 'I hid,' seems to
+     indicate that Joseph was making a confession to satisfy his own
+     mind, with a very vague idea of it ever being read. Were his
+     confession written for future ages, we may surmise that the perfect
+     '=kekrypha=,' 'I have hidden,' would have been used."
+
+So the simple, bald narrative ended, without a single attempt at
+sensationalism on the part of the newspaper.
+
+Just as Father Ripon laid down the newspaper, with shaking hands and a
+pallid face, Sir Michael Manichoe strode into the room.
+
+Tears of anger and shame were in his eyes, he moved jerkily,
+automatically, without volition. His right arm was sawing the air in
+meaningless gesticulation.
+
+He glanced furtively at Father Ripon and then sank into a chair by the
+bedside.
+
+The clergyman rose and dressed hastily. "We will speak of this in the
+library," he said, controlling himself by a tremendous effort.
+"Meanwhile----"
+
+He took some sal volatile from his dressing-case, gave some to his host,
+and drank some also.
+
+As they went down-stairs a brilliant sun streamed into the great hall.
+The world outside was bright and frost-bound.
+
+The bell of the private chapel was tolling for matins.
+
+The sound struck on both their brains very strangely. Sir Michael
+shuddered and grew ashen grey. Ripon recovered himself first.
+
+He placed his arm in his host's and turned towards the passage which led
+to the chapel.
+
+"Come, my friend," he said in low, sweet tones, "come to the altar. Let
+us pray together for Christendom. Peace waits us. Say the creed with me,
+for God will not desert us."
+
+They passed into the vaulted chapel with the seven dim lamps burning
+before the altar, and knelt down in the chancel stalls. Some of the
+servants came in and then the chaplain began the confession.
+
+The stately monotone went on, echoing through the damp breath of the
+morning.
+
+Father Ripon and Sir Michael turned to the east. The sun was pouring
+through the great window of stained glass, where Christ was painted
+ascending to heaven.
+
+The two elderly men said the creed after the priest in firm, almost
+triumphant voices:
+
+"I believe in God the Father ... and in Jesus Christ His only Son our
+Lord.... The third day he arose again from the dead. He ascended into
+heaven...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And those two, as they came gravely out of church and walked to the
+library, _knew_ that a great and awful lie was resounding through the
+world, for the Risen Christ had spoken with them, bidding them be of
+good courage for what was to come.
+
+The voice of Peter called down the ages:
+
+     "This Jesus hath God raised up, whereof we are all witnesses."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE DOMESTIC CHAPLAIN'S TESTIMONY
+
+
+When Mrs. Armstrong came down to breakfast her hostess told her, with
+many apologies, that Sir Michael had left for London with Father Ripon.
+They had gone by an early train. Matters of great moment were afoot.
+
+As this was being explained Mr. Wilson, the private chaplain, Schuabe,
+and Canon Walke entered the room. The Duke of Suffolk did not appear.
+
+A long, low room panelled in white, over which a huge fire of logs cast
+occasional cheery reflections, was used as a breakfast-room. Here and
+there the quiet simplicity of the place was violently disturbed by great
+gouts of colour, startling notes which, so cunningly had they been
+arranged in alternate opulence and denial, were harmonised with their
+background.
+
+A curtain of Tyrian purple, a sea picture full of gloom and glory, red
+light and wind; a bronze head, with brilliant, lifelike enamel eyes, the
+features swollen and brutal, from Sabacio--these were the means used by
+the young artist employed by Sir Michael to decorate the room.
+
+The long windows, hewn out of a six-foot wall, presented a sombre vista
+of great leafless trees standing in the trackless snow, touched here and
+there with the ruddiness of the winter sun.
+
+The glowing fire, the luxurious domesticity of the round table, with
+its shining silver and gleaming china, the great quiet of the park
+outside, gave a singular peace and remoteness to the breakfast-room.
+Here one seemed far away from strife and disturbance.
+
+This was the usual aspect and atmosphere of all Fencastle, but as the
+members of the house-party came together for the meal the air became
+suddenly electrified. Invisible waves of excitement, of surmise, doubt,
+and fear radiated from these humans. All had seen the paper, and though
+at first not one of them referred to it, the currents of tumult and
+alarm were knocking loudly at heart and brain, varied and widely diverse
+as were the emotions of each one.
+
+Mrs. Hubert Armstrong at length broke the silence. Her speech was
+deliberate, her words were chosen with extreme care, her tone was hushed
+and almost reverential.
+
+"To-day," she said, "what I perceive we have all heard, may mean the
+sudden dawning of a New Light in the world. If this stupendous statement
+is true--and it bears every hall-mark of the truth even at this early
+stage--a new image of Jesus of Nazareth will be for ever indelibly
+graven on the hearts of mankind. That image which thought, study, and
+research have already made so vivid to some of us will be common to the
+world. The old, weary superstitions will vanish for all time. The real
+significance of the anthropomorphic view will be clear at last. The
+world will be able to realise the Real Figure as It went in and out
+among Its brother men."
+
+She spoke with extreme earnestness. No doubt she saw in this marvellous
+historical confirmation of her attitude a triumph for the school of
+which she had become the vocal chieftainess, that would ring and glitter
+through the world of thought. The mental arrogance which had already led
+this woman so far was already busy, opening a vista that had suddenly
+become extremely dazzling, imminently near.
+
+At her words there was a sudden movement of relief among the others. The
+ice had been broken; formless and terrifying things assumed a shape that
+could be handled, discussed. Her words acted as a precipitate, which
+made analysis possible.
+
+The lady's calm, intellectual face, with its clear eyes and smooth bands
+of hair, waited with interest, but without impatience, for other views.
+
+Canon Walke took up her challenge. His words were assured enough, but
+Schuabe, listening with keen and sinister attention, detected a faint
+tremble, an alarmed lack of conviction. The courtier-Churchman, with his
+commanding presence, his grand manner, spoke without pedantry, but also
+without real force. His language was beautifully chosen, but it had not
+the ring of utter conviction, of passionate rejection of all that warred
+with Faith.
+
+A chaplain of the Court, the husband of an earl's daughter, a friend of
+royal folk, a future bishop, there were those who called him
+time-serving, exclusively ambitious. Schuabe realised that not here,
+indeed, was the great champion of Christianity. For a brief moment the
+Jew's mind flashed to a memory of the young curate at Manchester, then,
+with a little shudder of dislike, he bent his attention to Canon Walke's
+words.
+
+"No, Mrs. Armstrong," he was saying, "an article such as this in a
+newspaper will be dangerous; it will unsettle weak brains for a time
+until it is proved, as it will be proved, either a blasphemous
+fabrication or an ignorant mistake. It cannot be. Whatever the upshot of
+such rumours, they can only have a temporary effect. It may be that
+those at the head of the Church will have to sit close, to lay firm hold
+of principles, or anything that will steady the vessel as the storm
+sweeps up. This may be an even greater tempest than that which broke
+upon the Church in the days of the first George, when Christianity was
+believed to be fictitious. What did Bishop Butler say to his chaplain?
+He asked: 'What security is there against the insanity of individuals?
+The doctors know of none. Why, therefore, may not whole communities be
+seized with fits of insanity as well as individuals?' It is just that
+which will account for so much history tells us of wild revolt against
+Truth. It may be--God grant that it will not--that we are once more upon
+the eve of one of these storms. But, despite your anticipations, Mrs.
+Armstrong, you will see that the Church, as she has ever done, will
+weather the storm. I myself shall leave for town at mid-day, and follow
+the example of our host. My place is there. The Archbishop will,
+doubtless, hold a conference, if this story from Palestine seems to
+receive further confirmation. Such dangerous heresies must not be
+allowed to spread."
+
+Then Schuabe took up the discussion. "I fear for you, Canon Walke," he
+said, "and for the Church you represent. This news, it seems to me, is
+merely the evidence for the confirmation of what all thoughtful men
+believe to-day, though the majority of them do not speak out. There is a
+natural dislike to active propaganda, a timidity in combination to upset
+a system which is accepted, and which provides society as an ethical
+programme, though founded on initial error. But now--and I agree with
+Mrs. Armstrong in the extreme probability of this news being absolute
+fact, for Hands and Schm�ulder are names of weight--everything must be
+reconstructed and changed. The churches will go. Surely the times are
+ripe, the signs unmistakable? We are face to face with what is called an
+anti-clerical wave--a dislike to the clergy as the representatives of
+the Church, a dislike to the Church as the embodiment of religion, a
+dislike to religion as an unwelcome restraint upon liberty of thought.
+The storm which will burst now has been muttering and gathering here in
+England no less than on the Continent. You have heard its murmur in the
+debates on the Education Act, in the proposed State legislation for your
+Church. Your most venerable and essential forms are like trees creaking
+and groaning in the blast; public opinion is rioting to destroy. But
+perhaps until this morning it has never had a weapon strong enough to
+attack such a stronghold as the Church with any hope of victory. There
+has been much noise, but that is all. It has been a matter of _feeling_;
+_conviction_ has been weak, because it could only be supported by
+probabilities, not by certainties. The antichristian movement has been
+guided by emotions, hardly by principles. At last the great discovery
+which will rouse the world to sanity appears to have been made. Even as
+I speak in this quiet room the whole world is thrilling with this news.
+It is awakening from a long slumber."
+
+Walke heard his ringing words with manifest uneasiness. The man was
+unequal to the situation. He represented the earthly pomp and show of
+Christianity, wore the ceremonial vestments. He feared the concrete
+power, the vehement opposition of the mouthpiece of secularism. He saw
+the crisis, but from one side only. The deep spiritual love was not
+there.
+
+"You are exultant, Mr. Schuabe," he said coldly, "but you will hardly be
+so long."
+
+"You do not appreciate the situation, sir," Schuabe answered. "I can see
+further than you. A great intellectual peace will descend over the
+civilised world. Should one not exult at that, even though men must give
+up their dearest fetishes, their secret shrines; even though sentiment
+must be sacrificed to Truth? The religion of Nature, which is based
+upon the determination not to believe anything which is unsupported by
+indubitable evidence, will become the faith of the future, the
+fulfilment of progress. It is as Huxley said, '_Religion ought to mean
+simply reverence and love for the Ethical Ideal, and the desire to
+realise that Ideal in life._' Miracles do not happen. There has been no
+supernatural revelation, and nothing can be known of what Herbert
+Spencer calls the Infinite and Eternal Energy save by the study of the
+phenomena about us. And I repeat that the discovery we hear of to-day
+makes a thorough intellectual sanity possible for each living man. Doubt
+will disappear."
+
+"Yes, Mr. Schuabe," said Mrs. Armstrong, "you are right, incalculably
+right. It is to human intellect and that alone--the great Intellect of
+The Nazarene among others--that we must look from henceforth. Already by
+his unaided efforts man's achievements are everywhere breaking down
+superstition. The arts, the laws of gravitation, force, light, heat,
+sound, chemistry, electricity, and all that these imply--botany,
+medicine, bacteria, the circulation of the blood, the functions of the
+brain and nervous system (last-named abolishing all witchcraft and
+diabolic possession, such as we read of in the 'inspired' writings)--all
+these are but incidents in a progress never aided by the supernatural,
+but always impeded by the professors of it. Christians tortured the man
+who discovered the rotation of the earth, and in every church to-day
+absolutely false accounts of the origin of the world are publicly read.
+And as long as the world was content to believe that Jesus rose from the
+dead so long error has hindered development."
+
+"Yes," replied Schuabe, "all this will, I believe, inevitably follow the
+discovery of the professors in Palestine. And what does Christianity, as
+it is at present accepted, bring to the Christians? Localise it, and
+look at the English Church--Canon Walke's Church. At one time every one
+is a rigid Puritan and decries the bare accessories of worship, at
+another a Ritualist who twists and turns everything into fantastic
+shapes, as if he were furnishing an �sthetic bazaar. At another time
+these people are swayed with the doctrines of 'Christian Science,' and
+believe that pain is a pure trick of the diseased fancy, and matter the
+morbid creation of an unhealthy mind. Then we hear priests who tell us
+that the Old Testament (which in the same breath they announce to be
+witnessed to by Christ and His Apostles and the unbroken continuity of
+the Catholic Church) is an enlarged and plagiarised version of the days
+of a fantastic god discovered on a burnt brick at Babylon. And others
+sit anxiously waiting to know the precise value which this or that
+Gospel may possess, as its worth fluctuates like shares in the money
+market, with the last quotation from Germany! All this will cease."
+
+The while these august ones had been speaking, Father Wilson, the
+domestic chaplain at Fencastle, had remained silent but attentive.
+
+He was a lean, dark man, monk-like in appearance, somewhat saturnine on
+the surface. It was Sir Michael's wish, not the chaplain's, that he
+should sit with the guests as one of them, and make experience of the
+great ones of the world. For he had but little interest in worldly
+things or people.
+
+Schuabe's voice died away. Every one was a little exhausted, great
+matters had been dealt with. There came a little clink and clatter as
+they sought food.
+
+Suddenly Wilson looked up and began to speak. His voice was somewhat
+harsh and unsympathetic, his manner was uncompromising and without
+charm. As he spoke every one realised, with a sense of unpleasant
+shock, that he cared little or nothing for the society he was in.
+
+"It's very interesting, sir," he said, turning to Schuabe, "to hear all
+you have been saying. I have seen the paper and read of this so-called
+discovery too. Of course such a thing harmonises exactly with the
+opinions of those who want to believe it. But go and tell a devoted son
+of the Church that he has been fed with sacraments which are no
+sacraments, and all that he has done has been at best the honest mistake
+of a deceived man, and he will laugh in your face, as I do! There are
+memories, far back in his life, of confirmation, when his whole being
+was quickened and braced, which refuse to be explained as the
+hallucinations of a well-meaning but deceived man. There are memories
+when Christ drew near to his soul and helped him. Struggles with
+temptation are remembered when God's grace saved him. He also says,
+'Whether He be a sorcerer or not I know not; one thing I know, that
+whereas I was blind, now I see.' It is easy to part with one in whom we
+have never really believed. We can easily surrender what we have never
+held. But you haven't a notion of the real Christian's convictions, Mr.
+Schuabe. Your estimate of the future is based upon utter ignorance of
+the Christian's heart. You are incapable of understanding the heart to
+which experience has made it clear that Jesus was indeed the very
+Christ. There are many people who are _called_ Christians with whom your
+sayings and writings, and those of this lady here, have great power. It
+is because they have never found Christ. Unreal words, shallow emotions,
+unbalanced sentiment, leave such as these without armour in a time of
+tumult and conflicting cries. But if we _know_ Him, if we can look back
+over a life richer and fuller because we _have_ known Him, if we know,
+every man, the plague of his own heart, then your explorers may
+discover anything and we shall not believe. It is easy to prophesy as
+you have been doing all this meal-time--it is popular once more to shout
+the malignant 'Crucify'--but events will show you how utterly wrong you
+are in your estimate of the Christian character."
+
+They all stared at the chaplain. His sudden vigorous outburst, the
+harsh, unlovely voice, the contempt in it, was almost stupefying at
+first.
+
+Indeed, though they had certainly no cue from Sir Michael, they had
+regarded the silent, rather forbidding priest, in his cassock and robe,
+a dress which typified his reserve and detachment from all their
+interests, in the light of an upper servant, almost. Nor was it so much
+his interference they resented as his manner of interfering. The supreme
+confidence of the man galled them; it was patronising in its strength.
+
+Mrs. Armstrong heard the outburst with a slight frown of displeasure,
+which, as the priest continued, changed into a smile of kindly
+tolerance, the attitude of a housemaid who spares a spider. She
+remembered that, after all, her duty lay in being kind to those of less
+power than herself.
+
+The speech touched Schuabe more nearly. He seemed to hear a familiar
+echo of a voice he hated and feared. There was something chilling in
+these men who drew a confidence and certainty, sublime in its
+immobility, from the Unseen. He felt, as he had felt before, the hated
+barrier which he could in no wise pass, this calm fanaticism which would
+not even listen to him, which was beyond his influence. The bitter hate
+which welled up in his heart, the terrible scorn which he had to repress
+at these insults to his evil and devilish egoism, gave him almost a
+sense of physical nausea. His pale face became pallid, but he showed no
+other sign of the insane tempest within. He smiled slightly. That was
+all.
+
+As for Canon Walke, his feelings were varied. His face flickered with
+them in rapid alternation. He was quite conscious of the lack of life,
+fire, and conviction in what he himself had said. His own windy
+commonplaces shrank to nothingness and failure before the witnessing of
+the undistinguished priest. Before the two hostile intellects, the man
+and the woman, he had left the burden of the fight to this nobody. He
+was quick and jealous to mark the strength of Wilson's words, and his
+own failure had put him in an entirely false position. And yet a shrewd
+blow had been struck at Schuabe and Mrs. Armstrong; there was
+consolation in the fact.
+
+Father Wilson, when he had finished what he had to say, rose from his
+seat without more ado. "I will say a grace," he said. He made the sign
+of the Cross, muttered a short Latin thanksgiving, and strode from the
+room.
+
+"A fanatic," said Mrs. Armstrong.
+
+Neither Walke nor Schuabe replied.
+
+It was getting late in the morning. The sun had risen higher and flooded
+the level wastes of snow without. The little party finished their meal
+in silence.
+
+In the chapel Wilson knelt on the chancel step, praying that help and
+light might come to men and the imminent darkness pass away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+DEUS, DEUS MEUS, QUARE DERELIQUISTI!
+
+
+The Prime Minister was a man deeply interested in all philosophic
+thought, and especially in the Christian system of philosophy. He had
+written two most important books, weighty, brilliant contributions to
+the mass of thought by which his school laboured to make theism
+increasingly credible to the modern mind.
+
+He had proved that science, ethics, and theology are all open to the
+same kind of metaphysical difficulties, and that, therefore, to reject
+theology in the name of science was impossible. It was fortunate that,
+at this juncture, such a one should be at the head of affairs.
+
+The vast network of cables and telegraph wires, those tentacles which
+may be called the nerves of the world's brain, throbbed unceasingly
+after the tremendous announcement for which Ommaney had undertaken the
+responsibility.
+
+A battalion of special correspondents from every European and American
+paper of importance followed hot upon Harold Spence's trail.
+
+Nevertheless, for the first two or three days the world at large hardly
+realised the importance of what was happening. Nothing was certain. The
+whole statement depended upon two men. To the mass of people these two
+names--Hands, Schm�ulder--conveyed no meaning whatever. Nine tenths of
+the population of England knew nothing of the work of arch�ologists in
+Palestine, had never even heard of the Exploring Society.
+
+Had Consols fallen a point or two the effect would have been far
+greater, the fact would have made more stir.
+
+The great dailies of equal standing with the _Wire_ were making every
+private preparation for a supply of news and a consensus of opinion. But
+all this activity went on behind the scenes, and nothing of it was yet
+allowed to transpire generally. The article in the _Wire_ was quoted
+from, but opinions upon it were printed with the greatest caution and
+reserve. Indeed, the general apathy of England at large was a source of
+extreme wonder to the unthinking, fearing minority.
+
+The mass of the clergy, at any rate in public, affected to ignore, or
+did really honestly dismiss as impossible, the whole question. A few
+words of earnest exhortation and indignant denial were all they
+permitted themselves.
+
+But beneath the surface, and among the real influencers of public
+opinion, great anxiety was felt.
+
+The Patriarch of the Greek Church called a council of Bishops, and Dr.
+Procopides, an ephor of antiquities from Athens, was sent immediately to
+Palestine.
+
+The following paragraph, in substance, appeared in the leader page of
+all the English papers. It was disseminated by the Press Association:
+
+     "We are in a position to state, that in order to allay the feeling
+     of uneasiness produced among the churches by a recent article in
+     the _Daily Wire_ making extraordinary statements as to a discovery
+     in Jerusalem, a conference was held yesterday at Lambeth. Their
+     Graces the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, the Bishops of
+     Manchester, Gloucester, Durham, Lincoln, and London were present.
+     Other well-known Churchmen consisted of Sir Michael Manichoe, Lord
+     Robert Verulam, Canons Baragwaneth and Walke, the Dean of
+     Christchurch and the Master of Trinity Hall. The Prime Minister was
+     not present, but was represented by Mr. Alured King. Mr. Ommaney,
+     the editor of the _Daily Wire_, was included in the conference.
+     Although, from the names mentioned, it will be seen that the
+     conference is considered to be of great importance, nothing has
+     been allowed to transpire as to the result of its deliberations."
+
+This paragraph appeared on the morning of the third day after the
+initial article. It began to attract great attention throughout the
+United Kingdom during the early part of the day.
+
+The _Westminster Gazette_ in its third edition then published a further
+statement. The public learned:
+
+     "Professor Clermont-Ganneau, the Professor of Biblical Antiquities
+     at the French University of La Sorbonne, arrived in London
+     yesterday night. He drove straight to the house of Sir Robert
+     Llwellyn, the famous arch�ologist. Early this morning both
+     gentlemen drove to Downing Street, where they remained closeted
+     with the Prime Minister for an hour. While there, they were joined
+     by Dr. Grier, the learned Bishop of Leeds, and Dr. Carr, the Warden
+     of Wyckham College, Oxford. The four gentlemen were later driven to
+     Charing Cross Station in a brougham. On the platform from which the
+     Paris train starts they were met by Major-General Adams, the
+     Vice-President of the Palestine Exploring Society, and Sir Michael
+     Manichoe. The distinguished party entered a reserved saloon and
+     left, _en route_ for Paris, at mid-day. We are able to state on
+     undeniable authority that the party, which represents all that is
+     most authoritative in historical research and arch�ological
+     knowledge, are a committee from a recent conference at Lambeth, and
+     are proceeding to Jerusalem to investigate the alleged discovery in
+     the Holy City."
+
+This was the prominent announcement, made on the afternoon of the third
+day, which began to quicken interest and excite the minds of people in
+England.
+
+All that evening countless families discussed the information with
+curious unrest and foreboding. In all the towns the churches were
+exceptionally full at evensong. One fact was more discussed than any
+other, more particularly in London.
+
+Although the six men who had left England so suddenly, almost furtively,
+were obviously on a mission of the highest importance, no reputable
+paper published more than the bare fact of their departure. Comment upon
+it, more detailed explanation of it, was sought in the columns of all
+the journals in vain.
+
+The next morning was big with shadow and gloom. A shudder passed over
+the country. Certain telegrams appeared in all the papers which struck a
+chill of fear to the very heart of all who read them, Christian and
+indifferent alike.
+
+It was as though a great and ominous bell had begun to toll over the
+world.
+
+The faces of people in the streets were universally pale.
+
+It was remarked that the noises of London, the traffic, the movement of
+crowds engaged upon their daily business, lost half their noise.
+
+The shops were full of Christmas gifts, but no one seemed to enter them.
+
+In addition to the telegrams a single leading article appeared in the
+_Daily Wire_, which burnt itself, as the extremest cold burns, into the
+brains of Englishmen.
+
+
+     "(1) TERRIBLE RIOTS IN JERUSALEM
+
+     "The French Consul-General and Staff, who were paying a ceremonial
+     visit to the Latin Patriarch, have been attacked by fanatical
+     Moslems, and only escaped from the fury of the crowd with great
+     difficulty, aided by the Turkish Guards. A vast concourse of
+     Armenian Christians, Russian pilgrims, and Aleppine Greeks
+     afterwards gathered round the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The
+     strange discovery said to have been made by the English excavator,
+     Mr. Hands, and the German Doctor Schm�ulder, has aroused the mob to
+     furious protest against it. For nearly an hour fervent cries of
+     '_Hadda Kuber Saidna_,' 'This is the tomb of our Lord,' filled all
+     the air. The Mohammedans and lower-class Jews made a wild attack
+     upon the protesting Christians in the courtyard of the church. Many
+     hundreds are dead and dying.
+
+          "REUTER."
+
+     "LATER.--Strong drafts of Turkish troops have marched into
+     Jerusalem. By special order from the Sultan to the Governor of the
+     city, the 'New Tomb,' discovered by Mr. Hands and Doctor
+     Schm�ulder, is guarded by a triple cordon of troops. The two
+     gentlemen are guests of the Governor. The concentration of troops
+     round the 'New Tomb' has left various portions of the city
+     unguarded. Naked Mohammedan fanatics, armed with swords, are
+     calling for a general massacre of Christians. The city is in a
+     state of utter anarchy. By the Jaffa gate and round the Mosque of
+     Omar the dervishes are preaching massacre."
+
+
+     "(2) SIR ROBERT LLWELLYN'S PARTY TO BE CONVEYED IN A WAR-SHIP
+
+     "MALTA.--Orders have been received here from the Admiralty that the
+     gunboat _Velox_ is to proceed at once to Alexandria, there to
+     await the coming of Sir Robert Llwellyn and the other members of
+     the English Commission by the Indian mail steamer from Brindisi.
+     The _Velox_ will then leave at once for Jaffa with the six
+     gentlemen. At Jaffa an escort of mounted Turkish troops will
+     accompany the party on the day's ride to Jerusalem."
+
+
+     "(3) BERLIN.--The German Emperor has convened the principal clergy
+     of the empire to meet him in conference at Potsdam. The conference
+     will sit with closed doors."
+
+
+     "(4) ROME.--A decree, or short letter, has just been issued from
+     the Vatican to all the 'Patriarchs, Primates, Archbishops, Bishops
+     and other local ordinaries having peace and communion with the Holy
+     See.' The decree deals with the alleged discoveries in Jerusalem.
+     In it Catholics are forbidden to read newspaper accounts of the
+     proceedings in Palestine, nor may they discuss them with their
+     friends. The decree has had the effect of drawing great attention
+     to the affairs in the East, and has excited much adverse comment
+     among the secularist party, and in the _Voce della Populo_."
+
+
+Quite suddenly, as if a curtain were withdrawn, the world began to
+realise the fact that something almost beyond imagination was taking
+place in the far-off Syrian town.
+
+These detached and sinister messages which flashed along the cables,
+with their stories of princes and potentates alarmed and active, made
+the general silence, the lack of detail, more oppressive. The unknown,
+or dimly guessed at, rather, laid hold on men's minds like some mighty
+convulsion of nature, imminent, and presaged by fearful signs. Thus the
+_Daily Wire_:
+
+     "The story of the recent gathering of great Churchmen at Lambeth
+     has not yet been made public, but there can be little doubt in the
+     minds of those who watch events that it must eventually take a
+     place among the great historical occurrences of the world's
+     history. While the men and women of England were going to and fro
+     about their business, the ecclesiastical princes of this realm were
+     met together in doubt, astonishment, and fear, confronted with a
+     problem so tremendous that we find comment upon it presents almost
+     insuperable difficulties.
+
+     "We do not therefore propose to take the widest view of probable
+     contingencies and events, for that would be impossible within the
+     limits of a single article. It must be enough that with a sense of
+     the profoundest responsibility, and with the deep emotions which
+     must arise in the heart of every man who is confronted by a vast
+     and sudden overthrow of one of the binding forces of life, we
+     briefly recapitulate the events of the last few days, and attempt a
+     forecast of what we fear must lie before us here in England.
+
+     "Four days ago we published in these columns the first account of a
+     discovery made by Mr. Cyril Hands, M.A., and confirmed by Dr.
+     Herman Schm�ulder, in the red earth _d�bris_ by the 'Tombs of the
+     Kings,' beyond the Damascus gate of Jerusalem. The news arrived at
+     this office through a private channel, in the form of a long and
+     detailed account written by Mr. Hands, the arch�ologist and agent
+     of the Palestine Exploring Society. Before publishing the statement
+     the editor was enabled to discuss the advisability of doing so with
+     the Prime Minister. A long series of telegrams passed between the
+     office of this paper, the Foreign Office, and the gentlemen at
+     Jerusalem during the day preceding our publication of the document.
+     Hour by hour new details and a mass of contributory evidence came
+     to hand. All these papers, together with photographs, drawings,
+     and measurements, were placed by us in the hands of the Archbishop
+     of Canterbury. A conference of the greatest living English scholars
+     was summoned. The result of that meeting has been that a committee
+     representing the finest intellect and the most unsullied integrity
+     is now on its way to Jerusalem. Upon the verdict of Sir Robert
+     Llwellyn and his fellow-members, together with the distinguished
+     foreign _savants_ M. Clermont-Ganneau and Dr. Procopides, the
+     Ephor-General of Antiquities in the Athens Museum, the Christian
+     world must wait with terrible anxiety, but with a certainty that
+     the highest human intelligence is concentrated on its deliberation.
+
+     "What that verdict will be, seems, it must be boldly said and
+     faced, almost a foregone conclusion. We feel that we should be
+     lacking in our duty to our readers were we to withhold from them
+     certain facts. Not unnaturally His Grace the Archbishop and many of
+     his advisers have wished the press to preserve a complete silence
+     as to the result of the conference, a silence which should continue
+     until the report of the International Committee of Investigation is
+     published. We have endeavoured to preserve a reticence for two
+     days, but at this juncture it becomes our duty to inform the people
+     of England what we know. And we do not take this step without
+     careful consideration.
+
+     "We have informed the Prime Minister of our intention, and may
+     state that, despite the opposition of the Church Party, Lord ----
+     is in sympathy with it.
+
+     "Briefly, then, Sir Robert Llwellyn, the acknowledged leader of
+     arch�ological research, has given it as his opinion that Mr.
+     Hands's discovery must be genuine. Sir Robert alone has had the
+     courage to speak out bravely, though he did so with manifest
+     emotion and reluctance. The other members of the conference have
+     refused to express an opinion, though of at least three from among
+     their number there can be little doubt that they concur with Sir
+     Robert's view.
+
+     "Private telegrams, which we have hitherto refrained from
+     publishing, show that the cultured people of Germany, from the
+     Emperor downwards, are persuaded that the story of Jesus of
+     Nazareth has at last been told. Many of the most eminent public men
+     of France agree with this view. These are statements borne out by
+     the evidence of our correspondents in foreign capitals who have
+     secured a series of interviews with those who represent public
+     opinion of the expert kind.
+
+     "The Roman Church, on the other hand, with that supreme isolation
+     and historic indifference to all that helps the cause of Progress
+     and Truth, has not only loftily declined to recognise the fact that
+     any discovery has been made at all, has not only absolutely
+     declined to be represented at Jerusalem, but has issued a
+     proclamation forbidding Roman Catholics to think of or discuss the
+     events which are shaking the fabric of Christendom.
+
+     "In saying as much as we have already said, in placing our
+     melancholy conviction on record in this way, we lay ourselves open
+     to the charge of prejudging the most important decision affecting
+     the welfare of mankind that any body of men have ever been called
+     upon to make. Not even the startling and overwhelming mass of
+     support we have received would have led us to do this were it not
+     our conviction that it is the wisest course to pursue in regard to
+     what we feel almost certain will happen in the future. It seems far
+     better to prepare the minds of Christian English men and women for
+     the terrible shock that they will have to endure by a more gradual
+     system of disclosure than would be possible were we to adopt the
+     suggestion of the bishops and keep silent.
+
+     "And now, in the concluding portion of this article, we must
+     briefly consider what the news that it has been our responsible and
+     painful duty to give first to the world will mean to England.
+
+     "We fear that the mental anguish of countless thousands must for a
+     time cloud the life of our country as it has never been clouded and
+     darkened before. The proof that the Divinity of the Greatest and
+     Wisest Teacher the world has ever known, or ever will know, is but
+     a symbolic fable, will for a time overwhelm the world. A great
+     upheaval of English society is beginning. Old and venerated
+     institutions will be swept away, minds fed upon the Christian
+     theory from youth, instinct with all its hereditary tradition, will
+     be for a while as men groping in the dark. But the light will come
+     after this great tempest, and it will be a broader, finer, more
+     steadfast light than before, because founded on, and springing
+     from, Eternal Truth. The mission of beneficent illusion is over.
+     Error will yet linger for a generation or two. That much is
+     certain. There will be more who will base their objections to the
+     New Revelation upon 'the unassailable and ultimate reality of
+     personal spiritual experience,' forgetting the psychological
+     influences of hereditary training, which have alone produced those
+     experiences. But, alas! the knell of the old and beautiful
+     superstitions is ringing. The Doom is begun. The Judge is set, who
+     shall stay it? Let us rather turn from the saddening spectacle of a
+     fallen creed and rejoice that the 'Infinite and eternal energy' men
+     and have called God--Jah-weh, =theos=--that mysterious law of
+     Progress evolution, is about to reveal man to himself more than ever
+     completely in its destruction of an imagined revelation."
+
+During the afternoon preceding the publication of the above article, the
+three principal proprietors had met at the offices of the paper and had
+held a long conference with Mr. Ommaney, the editor.
+
+It had been decided, as a matter of policy and in order to maintain the
+leading position already given to the paper by the first publication of
+Hands's dispatch, that a strong and definite line should be taken at
+once.
+
+The other great journals were already showing signs of a cautious
+"trimming" policy, which would allow them to take up any necessary
+attitude events might dictate. They feared to be explicit, to speak out.
+So they would lose the greater glory.
+
+Once more commercial and political influences were at work, as they had
+been two thousand years before. The little group of Jewish millionaires
+who sat in Ommaney's room had their prototypes in the times of Christ's
+Passion. Men of the modern world were once more enacting the awful drama
+of the Crucifixion.
+
+Constantine Schuabe was among the group; his words had more weight than
+any others. The largest holding in the paper was his. The tentacles of
+this man were far-reaching and strong.
+
+"For my part, gentlemen," Ommaney said, "I am entirely with Mr. Schuabe.
+I agree with him that we should at once take the boldest possible
+attitude. Sir Robert's opinion before he left was conclusive. We shall
+therefore publish a leader to-morrow taking up our standpoint. We will
+have it quite plain and simple. Strong and simple, but with no
+subtleties to puzzle and obscure the ordinary reader. It's no use to
+touch on history or metaphysics, or anything but pure simplicity."
+
+"Then, Mr. Ommaney," Schuabe had said, "since we are exactly agreed on
+the best thing to do, and since these other gentlemen are prepared to
+leave the thing in our hands, if you will allow me I will write the
+leading article myself."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+     HARNESS THE HORSES; AND GET UP, YE HORSEMEN, AND STAND FORTH WITH
+     YOUR HELMETS; FURBISH THE SPEARS, AND PUT ON THE BRIGANDINES.--JER.
+     XLVI: 4
+
+Father Ripon sat alone in his study at the Clergy House of St. Mary's.
+The room was quite silent, save for the occasional dropping of a coal
+upon the hearth, where a bright, clear fire glowed.
+
+Three walls of the room were lined with books. There was no carpet on
+the floor; the bare boards showed, except for a strip of worn matting in
+front of the little cheap brass fender. Over the mantel a great crucifix
+hung on the bare wall, painted, or rather washed with dark red colour.
+
+The few chairs which stood about were all old-fashioned and rather
+uncomfortable. A great writing-table was covered with papers and books.
+Two candles stood upon it and gave light to the room. The only other
+piece of furniture was a deal praying-stool, with a Bible and
+prayer-book upon the ledge.
+
+A rugged, ascetic place, four walls to work and pray in, with just the
+necessary tools and no more. Yet there was no _affectation_ of
+asceticism, the effect was not a considered one in any way. For example,
+there was an oar, with college arms painted on one blade, leaning
+against the wall, a memory of old days when Father Ripon had rowed four
+and his boat at Oxford had got to the head of the river one Eight's
+week. The oar looked as if it were waiting to be properly hung on the
+wall as a decorative trophy, which indeed it was. But it had been
+waiting for seven years. The priest never had time to nail it up. He did
+not despise comfort or decoration, pretend to a pose of rigidness; he
+simply hadn't the time for it himself. That was all. He was always
+promising himself to put up--for example--a pair of crimson curtains a
+sister had sent him months back. But whenever he really determined to
+get them out and hang them, some sudden call came and he had to rush out
+and save a soul.
+
+Father Ripon looked ill and worn. A pamphlet, a long, thin book bound in
+blue paper, with the Royal Arms on the top of the folio, lay upon the
+table. It was the report of the Committee of Investigation, and the
+whole world was ringing with it.
+
+The report had now appeared for two days.
+
+The priest took up _The Tower_, a weekly paper, the official organ, not
+of the pious Evangelical party within the Church, but of the
+ultra-Protestant.
+
+His hand shook with anger and disgust as he read, for the third time,
+the leading article printed in large type, with wider spaces than usual
+between the lines:
+
+     "We have hitherto refrained from any comment on the marvellous
+     discovery in Jerusalem, being content simply to record the progress
+     of the investigations, which have at last satisfied us that a
+     genuine discovery has been made.
+
+     "In the daily special issues of the organs of the sacerdotal party
+     we find much more freedom of expression. They have run the whole
+     gamut--Disbelief, Doubt, Desolation, Detraction, Demoralisation,
+     and Dismay. Rome and Ritualism have received a shock which
+     demolishes and destroys the very foundation of their sinful
+     system.
+
+     "Carnal in its conception it cannot survive.
+
+     "'The worship of the corporeal presence of Christ's natural flesh
+     and blood' (_vide_ the so-called _Black_ rubric at the end of the
+     order of the administration of the Lord's Supper) was always
+     prohibited in the Protestant Reformed Communion, but this
+     idolatrous practice has been the glory and boast of Babylon, and
+     the aim and object of the Traitors, within the Established Church
+     of England, whom we have habitually denounced.'
+
+     "'The times of this ignorance God winked at, but now commandeth all
+     men everywhere to repent.'
+
+     "Hidden by the Divine Providence till the fulness of time, a simple
+     inscription has taught us the full meaning of Paul's mysterious
+     words, 'Yea, though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now
+     henceforth know we Him no more.'--2 Cor. v. 16.
+
+     "Paul and Protestantism are vindicated at last. 'There is a natural
+     body and there is a spiritual body.' The spiritual body that
+     manifested the resurrection of Jesus to His disciples has too long
+     been identified with the natural body that was piously laid to rest
+     by Joseph and Nicodemus. Much that has been obscure in the Gospel
+     narratives is now explained.
+
+     "Men have always wondered that the Apostles, in preaching their
+     risen Lord, attempted no explanation of His manifestations of
+     Himself.
+
+     "We can understand now why it was that they were divinely protected
+     from imagining that the spiritual Body is a dead body revived.
+
+     "How often have perplexed believers been troubled by the questions
+     of our modern scientists as to the physical possibilities of a
+     future resurrection of the body! The material substance of humanity
+     is resolved into its elements, and again and again through the
+     centuries is employed in other organisms.
+
+     "'How then,' men have asked, 'can you believe that the body you
+     have deposited beneath the earth shall collect from the universe
+     its dissipated particles and rise again?'
+
+     "Hitherto we have been content to put the question aside with a
+     simple faith that 'with God all things are possible.' But to-day we
+     are enabled to have a further comprehension of the Lord's words,
+     'It is the spirit that quickeneth, the flesh profiteth nothing.'
+
+     "Doubtless those who, even among our own company of Evangelical
+     Protestants, have attached too much importance to the teaching of
+     the so-called 'Fathers of the Church' (who so early corrupted the
+     sweet simplicity of the Gospel) will find themselves compelled to a
+     more spiritual explanation of some passages of Holy Scripture; but
+     Faith will find little difficulty in rightly dividing and
+     interpreting the word of Truth.
+
+     "The Protestant cause has little to fear from facts. We have been
+     by God's Providence gradually prepared for a great elucidation of
+     the truth about the Resurrection.
+
+     "Those who studied with attention the treatise of the late
+     Frederick W. H. Myers (the man who, of all moderns, has best
+     appreciated the personality of Paul the apostle) had come to a
+     conviction on the survival of Human Personality after death on
+     scientific grounds.
+
+     "The Resurrection of the Lord Jesus was no longer to them 'a thing
+     incredible,' its unique character was recognised as consisting in
+     its spiritual power.
+
+     "'Some doubted,' as on the mountain in Galilee. Protestantism on
+     the Continent, especially in Germany, the home of what is misnamed
+     the 'Higher Criticism,' has been hampered in this way by the study
+     of the 'letter,' and so in some degree has lost the assistance of
+     'the spirit which giveth life.'
+
+     "But the great heart of Protestant England is still sound, and
+     whilst Rome and Ritualism are aghast as the foundation of their
+     fabric of lies crumbles into dust, we stand sure and steadfast,
+     rejoicing in hope.
+
+     "Some readjustment of formularies may be conceded to weak brethren.
+
+     "Our great Reformers drew up that marvellous manifesto of the
+     Protestant faith--'Articles agreed upon by the archbishops and
+     bishops of Both Provinces, and the whole clergy in the Convocation
+     holden at London in the year 1562 for the avoiding of diversities
+     of opinions, and for the establishing of consent touching True
+     Religion.'
+
+     "England was at that time--alas, how often has it been
+     so!--inclined to compromise.
+
+     "There were timid men amongst the great divines who brought us out
+     of Babylon, and the 4th article of the Thirty-nine was notoriously
+     drawn up in antagonism to the teaching of the holy Silesian
+     nobleman, Caspar Schwenckfeld, to satisfy the scruples of the
+     sacerdotal party, which clung to the benefices of the Establishment
+     then as now.
+
+     "The omission of twelve words would remove all doubt as to its
+     interpretation. We may be content to affirm that 'Christ did truly
+     rise again from death' without stating further 'and took again his
+     body with flesh, bones, and all things appertaining.'
+
+     "It has always been the curse of Christendom that man desired to
+     express in words the ineffable.
+
+     "'Intruding into those things which he hath not seen, vainly puffed
+     up by his fleshly mind.'
+
+     "But it need not now be difficult with the aid of a Protestant
+     Parliament, which has so recently and so gloriously determined on
+     the expulsion of sacerdotalists, to modify, in deference to pious
+     scruples, too rigid definitions. Time will suffice for these
+     necessary modifications of sixteenth-century theology.
+
+     "In the present, the gain is ours. We shall hear less of the cultus
+     of the 'Sacred Heart' in future. The blasphemous mimicry of the
+     Mass will perish from amongst us.
+
+     "No man, in England at least, will dare to affirm that the flesh in
+     which the Saviour bore our sins upon the Cross is exposed for
+     adoration on the so-called 'altar.'
+
+     "As Matthew Arnold put it, on the true grave of Jesus 'the Syrian
+     stars look down,' but the risen Christ, glorious in His _Spiritual_
+     Body, reigns over the hearts of his true followers, and we look
+     forward in faith to our departure from the earthly tabernacle,
+     which is dissolved day by day, knowing that we also have a
+     spiritual house not made with hands eternal in the heavens."
+
+As he read the clever trimming article and marked the bitterness of its
+tone, the priest's face grew red with anger and contempt.
+
+This facile acceptance of the Great Horror, this insolent conversion of
+it to party ends, this flimsy pretence of reconciling statements, which,
+if true, made Christianity a thing of nought, to a novel and trumped-up
+system of adherence to it, filled him with bitter antagonism.
+
+But, useful as the article was as showing the turn many men's minds were
+taking, there was no time to trouble about it now.
+
+To-morrow the great meeting of those who still believed Christ died and
+rose again from the dead was to be held.
+
+The terrible "Report" had been issued. During the forty hours of its
+existence everything was already beginning to crumble away. To-morrow
+the Church Militant must speak to the world.
+
+It was said, moreover, that the great wave of infidelity and mockery
+which was sweeping hourly over the country would culminate in a great
+riot to-morrow....
+
+Everything seemed dark, black, hopeless....
+
+He picked up the Report once more to study it, as he had done fifty
+times that day.
+
+But before he opened it he knelt in prayer.
+
+As he prayed, so sweet and certain an assurance came to him, he seemed
+so very near to the Lord, that doubt and gloom fled before that
+Presence.
+
+What were logic, proofs of stone-work, the reports of arch�ologists, to
+This?
+
+Here in this lonely chamber Christ was, and spoke with His servant,
+bidding him be of good comfort.
+
+With bright eyes, full of the glow of one who walks with God, the priest
+opened the pamphlet once more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE HOUR OF CHAOS
+
+
+Although, during the first days of the Darkness, hundreds of thousands
+of Christian men and women were chilled almost to spiritual death, and
+although the lamp of Faith was flickering very low, it was not in London
+that the far-reaching effects of the discovery at Jerusalem were most
+immediately apparent.
+
+In that great City there is an outward indifference, bred of a million
+different interests, which has something akin to the supreme
+indifference of Nature. The many voices never blend into one, so that
+the ear may hear them in a single mighty shout.
+
+But in the grimmer North public opinion is heard more readily, and is
+more quickly visible. In the great centres of executive toil the vital
+truths of religion seem to enter more insistently into the lives of men
+and women whose environment presents them with fewer distractions than
+elsewhere. Often, indeed, this interest is a political interest rather
+than a deeply Christian one, a matter of controversy rather than
+feeling. Certain it is that all questions affecting religious beliefs
+loom large and have a real importance in the cities of the North.
+
+It was Wednesday evening at Walktown.
+
+Mr. Byars was reading the service. The huge, ugly church was lit with
+rows of gas-jets, arranged in coron� painted a drab green. But the
+priest's voice, strained and worn, echoed sadly and with a melancholy
+cadence through the great barn-like place. Two or three girls, a couple
+of men, and half a dozen boys made up the choir, which had dwindled to
+less than a fifth of its usual size. The organ was silent.
+
+Right down the church, those in the chancel saw row upon row of
+cushioned empty seats. Here and there a small group of people broke the
+chilling monotony of line, but the worshippers were very few. In the
+galleries an occasional couple, almost secure from observation,
+whispered to each other. The church was warm, the seats not
+uncomfortable; it was better to flirt here than in the cold, frost-bound
+streets.
+
+Never had Evensong been so cheerless and gloomy, even in that vast,
+unlovely building. There was no sermon. The vicar was suffering under
+such obvious strain, he looked so worn and ill, that even this lifeless
+congregation seemed to feel it a relief when the Blessing was said and
+it was free to shuffle out into the promenade of the streets.
+
+The harsh trumpeting of Mr. Philemon, the vestry clerk's final "Amen,"
+was almost jubilant.
+
+As Mr. Byars walked home he saw that the three great Unitarian chapels
+which he had to pass _en route_ were blazing with light. Policemen were
+standing at the doors to prevent the entrance of any more people into
+the overcrowded buildings. A tremendous life and energy pulsated within
+these buildings. Glancing back, with a bitter sigh, the vicar saw that
+the lights in St. Thomas were already extinguished, and the tower, in
+which the illuminated clock glowed sullenly, rose stark and cold into
+the dark winter sky.
+
+The last chapel of all, the Pembroke Road Chapel, had a row of finely
+appointed carriages waiting outside the doors. The horses were covered
+with cloths, the grooms and coachmen wore furs, and the breaths of men
+and beasts alike poured out in streams of blue vapour. These men stamped
+up and down the gravel sweep in front of the chapel and swung their arms
+in order to keep warm.
+
+On each side of the great polished mahogany doors were large placards,
+printed in black and red, vividly illuminated by electric arc lights.
+These announced that on that night Mr. Constantine Schuabe, M.P., would
+lecture on the recent discovery in Jerusalem. The title of the lecture,
+in staring black type, seemed to Mr. Byars as if it possessed an almost
+physical power. It struck him like a blow.
+
+     THE DOWNFALL OF CHRISTIANITY
+
+And then in smaller type,
+
+     ANTHROPOMORPHISM AN EXPLODED SUPERSTITION
+
+He walked on more hurriedly through the dark.
+
+All over the district the Church seemed tottering. The strong forces of
+Unitarianism and Judaism, always active enemies of the Church, were
+enjoying a moment of unexampled triumph. Led by nearly all the wealthy
+families in Walktown, all the Dissenters and many lukewarm Church people
+were crowding to these same synagogues. At the very height of these
+perversions, when Christianity was forsworn and derided on all sides,
+Schuabe had returned to Mount Prospect from London.
+
+His long-sustained position as head of the antichristian party in
+Parliament, in England indeed, his political connection with the place,
+his wealth, the ties of family and relationship, all combined to make
+him the greatest power of the moment in the North.
+
+His speeches, of enormous power and force, were delivered daily and
+reported _verbatim_ in all the newspapers. He became the Marlborough of
+a campaign.
+
+On every side the churches were almost deserted. Day by day ominous
+political murmurs were heard in street and factory. The time had come,
+men were saying, when an established priesthood and Church must be
+forced to relinquish its emoluments and position. The Bishop of
+Manchester, as he rolled through the streets in his carriage, leaning
+back upon the cushions, lost in thought, with his pipe between his lips,
+according to the wont and custom which had almost created a scandal in
+the neighbourhood, was hissed and hooted as he went on his way.
+
+With a sickness of heart, an utter weariness that was almost physical
+nausea, the vicar let himself into his house with a latch-key.
+
+There was a hushed, subdued air over the warm, comfortable house, felt
+quite certainly, though not easy to define. It was as though one lay
+dead in an upper chamber.
+
+Mr. Byars turned into his study. Helena rose to meet him. The beautiful,
+calm face was very pale and worn as if by long vigils. Minute lines of
+care had crept round the eyes, though the eyes themselves were as calm
+and steadfast as of old.
+
+"Basil feels much stronger to-night, Father," she said. "He is dressing
+now, and will come down to supper. He wishes to have a long talk with
+you, he says."
+
+For two weeks Gortre had lain prostrate in the house of his future
+father-in-law.
+
+It was as though he had watched the waters gradually rising round him
+until at last he was submerged in a merciful unconsciousness. The doctor
+said that he was enduring a very slight attack of brain-fever, but one
+which need cause no one any alarm, and which was, in fact, nothing at
+all in comparison to his former illness.
+
+His fine physical strength asserted itself and helped him to an easy
+_bodily_ recovery.
+
+To Basil himself, with returning health and a clearer brain came a
+renewal of mental power. A great strain was removed, the strain of
+waiting and watching, the tension of a sick anticipation.
+
+"It was almost as if I was conscious of this terrible thing that has
+happened," he said to Helena. "I am sure that I felt it coming
+instinctively in some curious psychic way. But now that we know the
+worst, I am my own man again. Soon, dear, I shall be up and about again,
+ready to fight against this blackness, to take my place in the ranks
+once more."
+
+To her loving solicitude he seemed to have some definite plan or
+purpose, but when she questioned him his reserve was impenetrable, even
+to her.
+
+During the days of darkness Helena's lot was hard, her heart heavy.
+While Mr. Byars was at least active, militant, she must eat her heart
+out in sorrow at home. The doctor had forbidden any talk on those
+subjects which were agitating the world, between her and Basil. She was
+denied that consolation. So while her father was attending the
+conferences at the Bishop's palace, speaking at meetings, visiting the
+sick with passionate, and, alas, how often useless! assurance that the
+Truth would prevail and the Light of the World once more shine out
+undimmed, she must live and pray alone.
+
+Helena's faith had never weakened. All through the trying days and
+nights it had burned steadily, clear, and pure. But all around her she
+saw the enemies of Christ prevailing. Nor was it with the slow movement
+of ordinary secularism, but with a great shout of triumph and exultation
+which resounded through the world. Men were deserting their posts, the
+Church she loved seemed tottering, a horrid confusion and anarchy was
+everywhere.
+
+And all that she could do was to pray. But as the girl moved about her
+simple household duties, as she tended the sick man with an almost
+wifely care, her prayers went on unceasingly and every action was
+interwoven with supplication.
+
+Pale, subdued, but with a quiet clearness and resolution in his eye,
+Basil came down to the meal. There was but little conversation during
+it. Afterwards, Helena went to her own room, knowing that her father and
+Gortre wished to be left alone.
+
+In the study the two men sat on either side of the fireplace. Basil wore
+a long dressing-gown of camel's-hair. He would not smoke, the doctor had
+forbidden it, but Mr. Byars lit his pipe with a sigh of satisfaction.
+
+"To think, Basil," the older man said in a broken voice, "to think that
+Christmas is upon us now! It's the vigil of Christmas, and never since
+our Lord's Passion has the world been in such a state. And worse than
+all is our utter impotence!" His voice grew almost angry. "We _know_,
+know as surely as we know anything, that this terrible business is some
+stupendous mistake or fraud. But there isn't the slightest possibility
+of any one listening to us. On one side the weightiest expert proof, on
+the other nothing but a conviction to oppose to what appear to be the
+hardest facts. I cannot blame any non-Christian for acquiescing in this
+discovery. Viewing the thing clearly and without prejudice, I can't
+blame any one. It is only the smallest minority, even of professing
+Christians, whose faith is strong enough to keep them from an utter
+denial of our Lord's Divinity. It is simply a matter of long personal
+experience that gives you and me and Helena our confidence in this
+utter darkness. But in comparison to the rest of the world, how many
+have that confidence?"
+
+He put down his pipe on the table and rested his head in his
+outstretched hands, a grey and venerable head. "It's awful, Basil," he
+said in a broken voice, and with his eyes full of tears. "In my old age
+I have seen this. I wish that I had gone with my dear wife. 'Help, Lord;
+for the godly man ceaseth; for the faithful fail from among the children
+of men.' But what is so bitter to me, my dear boy, is the sight of the
+utter overthrow of Faith. It all shows how terribly weak the majority of
+Christians are. Surface and symbol! symbol and surface!"
+
+"It will not last long," said Gortre, gravely. "For my part, Father, I
+think that this terrible trial is allowed and permitted by God to bring
+about a great and future triumph for His Son, which will marshal,
+organise, and consolidate Faith as nothing has ever done before. I am
+convinced of it."
+
+"Yes, it must be that," answered the vicar; "undoubtedly that is God's
+purpose. But I would that the light might come in my time. And I fear I
+shall not live to see it. I'm an old man now, Basil; this has aged me
+very much, and I shall not live much longer. It is God's will, but it is
+hard to know that one will die seeing Christ dethroned in the hearts of
+men, the Cross broken."
+
+"While I have been quietly up-stairs," said Gortre, "many strange
+thoughts have come to me, of which I want to speak to you to-night. I
+have things to tell you which I have mentioned to no one as yet. But
+before I go into these matters--very dark and terrible ones, I fear--I
+want you to give me a _r�sum�_ of the position of things as they are
+now. The present state is not clear in my mind. I have not read many of
+the papers, and I want a sort of bird's-eye view of what is going on."
+
+"The position at present," said Mr. Byars, "from our point of view, is a
+kind of anarchy. Within every denomination those who absolutely refuse
+to credit the truth of the discovery are in the minority. Abroad, in
+France especially, wild free-thought of the rabid Tom Paine order has
+broken out everywhere in a kind of hysterical rage against Christianity.
+The immediate social result has been an appalling increase in crimes of
+lust and cruelty. Great alarm is felt by the authorities. All the papers
+are taking a horribly cynical view. They say that the delusion of
+Christianity has clouded men's brains for so long that they are now
+incapable of bearing the truth, and that the best way to govern the
+State is to go on making believe. On the other hand, the vast majority
+of Roman Catholics, both abroad and in England, have remained utterly
+uninfluenced. It is one of the most marvellous triumphs of discipline
+and order that history has ever witnessed. The Pope forbade the
+slightest notice of the discovery to be taken by priests or people in
+the first instance. Then, when the Report of the Committee was issued,
+with only one dissentient voice--Sir Michael Manichoe's--a Papal Bull
+was issued. Here it is, translated in _The Tablet_, magnificent in its
+brevity and serenity."
+
+He took a paper from the table beside him and began to read:
+
+     "VENERABLE BRETHREN,--HEALTH AND APOSTOLIC BENEDICTION
+
+     "It has seemed good to Us to address you on certain points dealing
+     with the decay of faith in divine things, which is the effect of
+     pride and moral corruption. And this is the natural result of
+     pride; for when this vice has taken possession of the heart it is
+     inevitable that the Christian Faith, which demands a most willing
+     docility, should languish, and that a murky darkness in regard to
+     divine truths should close upon the mind, so that in the case of
+     many these words should be made good, 'whatever things they know
+     not they blaspheme' (St. Jude). We, however, so far from being
+     hereby turned aside from the design which We have taken in hand,
+     are, on the contrary, determined all the more zealously and
+     diligently to guide the well-disposed, so that they may be saved
+     from the perils of secular unbelief.
+
+     "And, with the help of the united prayers of the faithful, We
+     earnestly implore forgiveness for those who speak evil of holy
+     things.
+
+     "And inasmuch as certain persons not being members of the Holy
+     Catholic Church have in an extremity of criminal madness laid claim
+     to discoveries which are pretended and put forth as affecting the
+     eternal Truths of the Faith, We command you, Venerable Brethren,
+     that it shall be stated in all the churches such pretences are void
+     of truth and utterly abominable. The enemies of Christ cry out, 'We
+     will not have this man to reign over us' (Luke xix. 14), and make
+     themselves loudly heard with the utterance of that wicked purpose,
+     'Let us make away with Him.'
+
+     "We therefore charge all Christians having peace and communion with
+     the Holy Church that they shall give no ear or countenance to these
+     onslaughts upon the Faith. It is forbidden for them to speak of
+     these things among themselves, or to listen to others concerning
+     them.
+
+     "With these injunctions, Venerable Brethren, We, as a presage of
+     the divine liberality, and as a pledge of our own charity, most
+     lovingly bestow on each of you, and on the clergy and flock
+     committed to the care of each, our Apostolic Benediction."
+
+"That is the gist of it," said Mr. Byars, "though I have missed out a
+few paragraphs. The result has been that, with a few exceptions, the
+whole army of Romanists, so to speak, have closed ranks and utterly
+refused to listen to what is going on."
+
+"It's very fine, very fine indeed, as a spectacle," Gortre answered. "I
+wish we had something like that unity and discipline. But is that
+submission, possibly without the fire of an inward conviction, worth
+very much? I doubt it."
+
+"It is not for us to judge," answered the vicar. "But the result has
+been that the Catholic Church, both here and on the Continent, is
+undergoing a storm of persecution and popular hatred. There have been
+fearful fights in Liverpool, and riots between the Irish dock-labourers
+and a mob of people who called themselves Protestants last year and
+'Rationalists' to-day.
+
+"The attitude of the Low Church party is varied. Many of them are openly
+deserting to Unitarianism. Others have accepted the discovery as being a
+true one, and evolved an entirely new theory from it, while using it as
+a party weapon also. This attitude is reflected in _The Tower_ in an
+article which says that, though the actual body of Christ is now proved
+never to have risen from the dead, the _spiritual_ body was what the
+Disciples saw. It is a clever piece of work, which has attracted an
+immense number of people, and is directed entirely against the Holy
+Eucharist.[1] The Moderate and High Church parties are in some ways in a
+worse position than any other. They find themselves unable to
+compromise. "At the great meeting in the Albert Hall the other day,
+which ended up in something like a free fight, all the conclusion the
+majority of the clergy could come to was that it was utterly impossible
+to accept the discovery and remain Christian. The result everywhere is
+chaos; men are resigning their livings, there have been several
+suicides--isn't it horrible to think of?--congregations are dwindling
+everywhere, and disestablishment seems a certainty in a very short time.
+The papers are full of nothing else, of course. We are fighting tooth
+and nail upon the standpoint of personal spiritual experience, which
+nothing can alter, but in a material way how little that helps! The
+Methodists and Wesleyans are more successful than any one. They are
+holding revival meetings all over the country. Very few of these two
+bodies have joined the infidel ranks. Dissent has always implied an act
+of choice, which, at any rate, means a man is not indifferent to the
+whole thing. I suppose that is why the Wesleyans seem to be making a
+firmer and more spiritual stand than any of us. To my shame I say it,
+but the Churchmen of England are not bearing witness as these others
+are."
+
+"And the Bishops?"
+
+"Most of them don't know what to do. Of course, the great leaders of
+spiritual thought, W----, for instance, and G----, have written that
+which has brought comfort and conviction to hundreds. But see the horror
+of the position. The only way in which this awful thing can be combated
+is by just the methods which only scholars and cultivated people can
+understand. How are people who read the hard, material, logical speeches
+of people like Schuabe, or that abominable woman, Mrs. Hubert Armstrong,
+going to be convinced by the subtleties of the intellect or by the
+reiteration of a personal conviction which they cannot share? Then the
+Court party, the Archbishop, Walke, and all those, are leaning more and
+more towards the 'spiritual' body theory, though they hesitate to commit
+themselves as yet. It is all to be shelved until Convocation meets. They
+want to see how things will go in Parliament. The Erastian spirit is
+rampant. They are nearly all afraid of any ecclesiastical action. They
+are following the lead of Germany under the Kaiser."
+
+"It is all very terrible to see how much less Christianity means to
+mankind than earnest Christians believed," said Gortre, sadly. "To see
+the edifice tumbling round one like a house of paper when one thought it
+so secure and strong. What a terrible lesson this will be in the future
+to every one; what frightful shame and humiliation will come to those
+who have denied their Lord when this is over!"
+
+"When will that be, Basil?" said the vicar, wearily. "It seems as if the
+real hour of test were at hand, and that now, finally and for ever, God
+means to separate the true believers from the rest. I have thought that
+all this may be but a prelude to the Last Day of all, and that Christ's
+Second Coming is very near. But what I _cannot_ understand, what is
+utterly beyond the power of any of us to appreciate, is what this all
+_means_. How can this new tomb have been discovered after all these
+years? Can all these great experts have been deceived? There have been
+historical forgeries before, but surely this cannot be one. And yet, I
+_know_, you _know_, that our Lord rose from the dead."
+
+"I believe that to me, of all men in England, The Hand of God has given
+the key to the mystery," said Gortre.
+
+Mr. Byars started and looked uneasily at him.
+
+"Basil," he said, "I have been thoughtless. We've talked too long. You
+are not quite clear as to what you are saying. Let us read compline
+together and go to bed."
+
+He watched Basil as he spoke, but before he had finished his sentence he
+saw something in the young man's face which sent the blood leaping and
+tearing through his veins.
+
+In a sudden, utterly unreasoning way, he saw a truth, a certain
+knowledge, in Gortre's eyes which flooded his whole heart and soul with
+exaltation and joy.
+
+His good and almost saintly face looked as John's might have looked
+when, after the octave of the Resurrection Day, the eight heavy-hearted
+men were once more returning to the daily round and common task, and saw
+the Lord upon the shore.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE FIRST LINKS
+
+
+"I have been piecing things together gradually, as I lay silent
+up-stairs," said Gortre, drawing his chair a little closer to the fire.
+
+"Slowly, little by little, I have added link and link to a chain of
+circumstantial evidence which has led me to an almost incredible
+conclusion. When you have heard what I have to say you will realise two
+things. One is that there are depths of human wickedness so abysmal and
+awful that the mind can hardly conceive of them. The other is that, for
+what reason it is not for us to try and divine, I have been led, by a
+most extraordinary series of events and coincidences, to something very
+near the truth about the discovery in Jerusalem. My story begins some
+months ago, on the night before I was struck down with brain-fever. You
+will remember that Constantine Schuabe"--he spoke the name with a
+shudder of horror that instinctively communicated itself to Mr.
+Byars--"that Schuabe called here on that night about the school
+scholarships. When I went away, I left the house with him. He invited me
+to go on to Mount Prospect and I did so. Earlier in the evening we had
+been talking of the antichrist and I had said to you that I saw in
+Schuabe a modern type of the old medi�val idea. My mind was peculiarly
+sensitive on these points that night, awake, alert, and inquiring. When
+Schuabe invited me to his house, something impelled me to go, something
+outside of myself. I went, feeling that I was on the threshold of some
+discovery."
+
+He paused for a moment, white and tired with the intensity of his
+narrative.
+
+"When we got to Schuabe's house we began upon the controversial points
+which we had carefully avoided here. At first our talk was quite quiet,
+mere argument between two people having different points of view on
+religion. He went out to get some supper--the servants were all in bed.
+While he was gone, again I felt the strange assurance of something by me
+directing my actions. I felt a sense of direct spiritual protection. I
+went to the bookshelf and took down a Bible. I opened it, half ashamed
+of myself for the tinge of superstition, and my eyes fell upon the text:
+
+     "'WATCH AND PRAY.'
+
+"I could not help taking it as a direct message. Schuabe came back.
+Gradually, as I saw his bitter hatred and contempt for our Lord and the
+Christian Church becoming revealed, I was uplifted to rebuke him. He had
+dropped the veil of an _intellectual_ disagreement. Some power was given
+to me to see far into the man's soul. He knew that also, and all
+pretence between us was utterly swept away. Then I told him that his
+hate was real and active, that I saw him as he was. And these were the
+words in which he answered me, standing like Lucifer before me. For
+months they have haunted me. They are burnt in upon my brain for all
+time. '_I tell you, paid priest as you are, a blind man leading the
+blind, that a day is coming when all your boasted fabric of
+Christianity will disappear. It will go suddenly and be swept utterly
+away. And you, you shall see it. You shall be left naked of your Faith,
+stripped and bare, with all Christendom beside you. Your pale Nazarene
+shall die among the bitter laughter of the world, die as surely as he
+died two thousand years ago, and no man nor woman shall resurrect him.
+You know nothing, but you will remember my words of to-night, until you
+also become as nothing and endure the inevitable fate of mankind!_'"
+
+Mr. Byars started. As yet he realised nothing of where Basil's story was
+to lead. "A prophecy!" he cried. "It is as if he were gifted to know the
+future. Something of what he said has already come to pass."
+
+"My story is a long one, Father," said Gortre, "and as yet it is only
+begun. You will see plainer soon. Well, as he said these words I knew
+with certainty that this man was _afraid of God_. I saw his awful secret
+in his eyes, this man, antichrist indeed, _believes in our Lord_, and in
+terrible presumption dares to lift his hand against Him. Little more of
+importance happened upon that night. The next day, as you know, I fell
+ill and was so for some weeks. When I recovered and remembered perfectly
+all that had happened--do you remember how the picture of Christ fell
+and broke when Schuabe came?--I saw that I must keep all these things
+locked within my own brain. What could I do or say more than that I, a
+fanatical curate--that is what people would have said--had had a row
+with the famous agnostic millionaire and politician? I could not hope to
+explain to any one the reality of that evening, the certain knowledge I
+had of its being only a prelude to some horror that I could not foresee
+or name. So I kept my own counsel. Perhaps you may remember that on the
+night of the tea-party when I said good-bye to the people I urged them
+to keep fast hold on faith, made a special point of it?"
+
+Again Mr. Byars showed his intense interest by a sudden movement of the
+muscles of his face. But he did not speak, and Gortre continued:
+
+"Now we come to Dieppe when we were all there together. You will, of
+course, remember how Spence introduced us to Sir Robert Llwellyn, and
+how we talked over dinner at the _Pannier d'Or_. Since then, we must
+remember, Sir Robert's evidence in favour of the absolute authenticity
+of Hands's discovery has had more weight with the world than that of any
+one else. He is, of course, known to be the greatest living expert. And
+that fact also has a very important bearing on my story. After dinner,
+the conversation turned upon discoveries in exactly the direction that
+the recent discovery _has_ been made. Llwellyn expressed himself as
+believing that--I think I remember something like his actual words--'We
+are on the eve of stupendous discoveries in this direction.' None of us
+liked to pursue the discussion further. There was a little pause."
+
+"Yes!" said the vicar, "I remember it perfectly now; it all comes back
+to me quite vividly. But do you know that, beyond of course remembering
+that we were introduced to Sir Robert at Dieppe, the subject of our
+conversation had almost escaped my memory. Certainly I never thought of
+it in detail. But go on, Basil."
+
+"Well, then, Sir Robert drew a plan of the walls of Jerusalem on the
+back of a letter which he took from his pocket. As he turned the letter
+over I could not help seeing whom it was from. I read the signature
+quite distinctly, 'Constantine Schuabe.' This brings us up to a curious
+fact. Two eminent men, one antichristian, the other a famous
+arch�ologist, both express an opinion in my hearing. The first says
+openly that something is about to occur that will destroy faith in
+Christ, the other hints only at some wonderful impending discovery in
+the Holy Land. The connection between the two statements, startling
+enough in any case, becomes still more so when it is discovered that
+these two eminent people are in correspondence one with the other. And
+there is more than this even. Two days after that dinner I was taking a
+stroll down by the quays when I saw Sir Robert and Mr. Schuabe, who had
+just landed from the Newhaven boat, get into the Paris train together."
+
+A sudden short exclamation came from the chair on the opposite side of
+the fire. Very dimly and vaguely the vicar was beginning to see where
+Basil's story was tending. The fire had grown low, and Mr. Byars
+replenished it. The noise of the falling coals accentuated the tension
+which filled the quiet room like a gas.
+
+Then Gortre's tired, but even and deliberate, voice continued:
+
+"I will here ask you to consider one or two other points. Professor
+Llwellyn told us that he had a year's leave from the British Museum
+owing to ill health. So long a rest presupposes a real illness, does it
+not? Now, of course, one can never be sure of anything of this sort, but
+it is, at least, curious and worthy of remark that Sir Robert seemed
+outwardly in perfect health and with a hearty appetite. He also said
+that he was _en route_ for Alexandria. Well, Alexandria is the nearest
+port to Jaffa, which is but one day's ride from Jerusalem. Now comes a
+still more curious part of my story. As I have told you, our parish in
+Bloomsbury is one in which a great class of undesirable people have made
+their home. It cannot be denied that it is a centre of some peculiarly
+shameless vice. Much of the work of the clergy lies among women of a
+certain class, and great tact and resolution is needed to deal with such
+problems as these people present. Some months ago a woman, whose face
+seemed in some vague way familiar to me, began to come to church. Once
+or twice she seemed to show an inclination to speak to me or my
+colleagues after the service, but she never actually did so. Eventually
+she called on Ripon, and confessed her way of life. Her repentance
+seemed sincere, and she was anxious to turn over a new leaf. It appeared
+that the girl was a rather well-known dancer at one of the burlesque
+theatres, and I must have seen her portrait on the hoardings and
+advertisements of these places. She had been touched by something in one
+of my sermons, it seems, and Ripon requested me to go and see her. I did
+so, in the flat where she lived, and we had a chat. The poor thing was
+suffering from an internal disease, and had only a year or two to live.
+She seemed a kindly, sensible creature enough, vulgar and
+pleasure-loving, but without any very great wickedness about her,
+despite her wretched life. She wanted to get right away, to bury herself
+in the country, and live a pure and quiet life until she died. The great
+difficulty in the way was the man whose mistress she was, and of whom
+she seemed in considerable fear. I explained to her that, with the help
+of Father Ripon and myself, no harm should come to her from him, and
+that her quiet disappearance from the scenes of her past life could be
+very easily managed. Then it came out that the man in whose power she
+was was none other than Sir Robert Llwellyn. _She told me that he had
+been for some time in Palestine._ She was expecting him back every day.
+While we were talking Sir Robert actually entered the room, fresh from
+his journey. We had a fearful row, of course, and he would not go until
+I threatened to use force, and then only because he was afraid of the
+scandal. But before he went he seemed filled with a sort of coarse
+triumph even in a moment of what must have been great discomfiture for
+him. I had to explain what had happened to him. I told him frankly that
+Miss Hunt--that was the woman's name--was, by the grace of the Holy
+Spirit, about to lead a new and different life. Then this sort of
+triumph burst forth. He said that in a short time meddling priests would
+lose all their power over the minds of others. He said that Christ, 'the
+pale dreamer of the East,' should be revealed to all men at last. He
+quoted the verse about the grave from Matthew Arnold. And it was all
+done with a great confidence and certainty."
+
+He stopped, worn out, and glanced inquiringly at Mr. Byars.
+
+The vicar was evidently much moved and excited by the narrative. "The
+most curious point of all," he said, "in what you tell me is the fact of
+Sir Robert's _private_ and _secret_ visit to Palestine some months
+before the discovery was made. Such a recent visit is entirely unknown
+to the public, who have been so busy with his name of late. The
+newspapers have said nothing of it. Otherwise, I see no reason why, in
+some way or other, Mr. Schuabe and Sir Robert may not have known of this
+tomb in some way before it was discovered by Hands, and their hintings
+of a catastrophe to faith may have simply been because of this knowledge
+which they were unwilling to publish."
+
+Gortre shook his head. "No, it is not that," he said. "It is not that.
+They would never have kept the knowledge secret. You have not been
+through the scenes with these men that I have. There are a hundred
+objections to that theory. _I am absolutely persuaded that this
+'discovery' is a forgery, executed with the highest skill, by the one
+man living capable of doing it at the instigation of the one man evil
+enough to suggest it._ The hand of God is leading me towards the truth."
+
+"But the proof!" said the vicar, "the proof! Think of the tremendous
+forces arrayed against us. What can we do? No one would listen to what
+you have told me."
+
+"God will show a way," said Gortre. "I know it. I had a letter from
+Harold Spence this morning. His work is done, and he has returned. At
+the end of the week the doctor says I shall be able to get back to
+Lincoln's Inn. I shall take counsel with Harold; he is brilliant, and a
+man of the world. Together we will work to overthrow these devils."
+
+"And meanwhile," answered Mr. Byars, with a despairing gesture,
+"meanwhile hope and faith are dying out of millions of hearts, men are
+turning to sinful pleasures unafraid, hopeless, desolate."
+
+The strain had been too great, he was growing older; he bent his head on
+his hands, while the darkness crept into his soul.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+PARTICULAR INSTANCES, CONTRASTING THE OLD LADY AND THE SPECIAL
+CORRESPONDENT
+
+
+The long Manchester station was full of the sullen and almost unbearable
+roar of escaping steam. Every now and again the noise ceased with a
+suddenness that was pain, and the groups of people waiting to see the
+London train start on its four hours' rush could hear each other's
+voices strange and thin after the mighty vibration.
+
+The feast of Christmas was over. Throughout the world the festival had
+fallen chill and cold on the hearts of mankind. The _Adeste Fideles_ had
+summoned few to worship, and the praise had sounded thin and hollow.
+Even the faithful must keep their deep conviction as a hidden fire
+within them amid the din and crash of faith and the rising tides of
+negation and despair.
+
+Gortre, Helena, and Mr. Byars stood together by the train side. They
+spoke but little; the same thought was in their brains. The jarring
+materialism of the scene, its steady, heedless industry, seemed an
+outrage almost in its cold disregard of the sadness which they felt
+themselves. The great engines glided in and out of the station, the
+porters and travellers moved with busy cheerfulness as if the world were
+not in the grip of a great darkness and horror, taking no account of
+it. They stood by the door of the carriage Basil had chosen, a forlorn
+group not quite able to realise the stir of life around them.
+
+Gortre was pale and worn, but visibly better and stronger. His face was
+fixed and resolute. The vicar seemed much older, shrunken somewhat, and
+his manner was more tremulous than before. His arm was in Helena's.
+
+"Basil," said the vicar, "you are going from us into what must be the
+unknown--God grant a happy issue out of the perils and difficulties
+before you. For my part, I seem to be in an unhappy and doubting state.
+It may be that you have the key to this black mystery and can dispel the
+clouds. I shall pray daily that it may be so. It is in the hands of
+God."
+
+He sighed heavily as he gripped Basil's hand in farewell. In truth, he
+had but little hope and had hardly been able to realise the young man's
+story. It was almost inconceivable to him, the abnormal wickedness it
+suggested, the possibility that this great cloud could come upon the
+world at the action of two men, both of whom he had known, found
+pleasant, cultured people, and rather liked. The thought was too big to
+grasp, it confused and stunned him. It is a curious fact that this good
+man, who could believe, despite all contrary evidence, in the eternal
+truths of the Gospel, could not believe in the malignancy which Basil's
+story had seemed to indicate.
+
+Helena had not been told of Basil's suspicions, only of his hopes. She
+knew that there was that in his mind which might lead once more to light
+and disperse the clouds. No details were given to her, nor did she ask
+for them. She was too serene and fine for commonplace curiosity. The
+mutual trust between the lovers was absolute. Nothing could strain it,
+nothing could disturb it; and in her love and admiration for Basil,
+Helena saw nothing incongruous or incredible in the fact that the young
+man hoped himself to bring peace back to the world.
+
+To any one viewing the project with unbiassed eyes it might have seemed
+beyond possibility, would have provoked a smile, this spectacle of an
+obscure curate going up to London in a third-class carriage with hopes
+of saving his country's faith, in the expectation of overthrowing the
+gigantic edifice of learned opinion, of combating a Sanhedrin of the
+great. Such people would have said with facile pedantry that this girl
+possessed no sense of humour, imagining that they were reproaching her.
+For by some strange mental perversion most people would rather be told
+that they lack a sense of morals or duty than a sense of humour, and it
+is quite certain that this was said of John the Baptist as he preached
+in his unconventional raiment upon Jordan's banks.
+
+Helena and Basil walked slowly up and down the platform, saying
+farewell.
+
+Her words of love and hope, her serene and unquestioning confidence,
+uplifted him as nothing else could do. At this moment, big with his own
+passionate hopes and desires, yet dismayed at the immensity of the task
+before him, the trust and encouragement of one he loved were especially
+helpful and uplifting. It was the tonic he needed. And as the train
+slowly moved out of the station the bright and noble face of his lady
+was the last thing he saw.
+
+He thought long of her as the train began to gather speed and rush
+through the smoky Northern towns. As many other people, Gortre found a
+stimulus to clear, ordered thought in the sensation of rapid motion. The
+brain worked with more power, owing to the exhilaration produced in it
+by speed.
+
+As the ponderous machine which was carrying him back to the great
+theatre of strife and effort gathered momentum and power, so his mind
+became filled with high hopes, began to glow with eagerness to strike a
+great blow against the enemies of Christ.
+
+He looked at the carriage, noticing for the first time, at least
+consciously, the people who sat there. He had two fellow-passengers, a
+man and a woman. The man seemed to belong to the skilled artisan class,
+decently dressed, of sober and quiet manner. His well-marked features,
+the prominent nose, keen grey eyes, and thick reddish moustache, spoke
+eloquently of "character" and somewhat of thought. The woman was old,
+past sixty, a little withered creature, insignificant of face, her mouth
+a button, her hair grey, scanty, and ill-nourished.
+
+The man was sitting opposite to Gortre and they fell into talk after a
+time on trivial subjects. The stranger was civil, but somewhat
+assertive. He did not use the ordinary "sir."
+
+Suddenly, with a slight smile of anticipation, he seemed to gather
+himself up for discussion.
+
+"Well," he said, "I don't wish individuals no particular harm, you'll
+understand, but speaking general, I suppose you realise that your job's
+over. The Church will be swept away for good 'n' all in a few months
+now, and to my way of thinking it'll be the best thing as 'as ever come
+to the country. The Church has always failed to reach the labourin'
+man."
+
+"Because the labouring man has generally failed to reach the Church,"
+said Gortre, smiling. "But you mean Disestablishment is near, I
+suppose?"
+
+"That's it, mister," said the man. "It must come now, and about time,
+too, after all these centuries of humbug. I used to go to church years
+back and sing 'The Church's one foundation.' Its foundation's been
+proved a pack o' lies now, and down it comes. Disestablishment will
+prove the salvation of England. When religion's swept away by act o'
+Parliament, then men will have an opportunity of talking sense and
+seeing things clearly."
+
+He spoke without rudeness but with a certain arrogance and an obvious
+satisfaction at the situation. Here was a parson cornered, literally,
+forced to listen to him, with no way of escape. Gortre imagined that he
+was congratulating himself that this was not a corridor train.
+
+"I think Disestablishment is very likely to come indeed," said Gortre,
+"and it will come the sooner for recent events. Of course I think that
+it will be most barefaced robbery to take endowments from the Church
+which are absolutely her own property, and use them for secular
+purposes, but I'm not at all sure that it wouldn't be an excellent thing
+for the Church after all. But you seem to think that Disestablishment
+will destroy _religion_. That is an entire mistake, as you will find."
+
+"It's destroyed already," said the man, "let alone what's _going_ to
+happen. Since what they've found out in Jerusalem the whole thing's gone
+puff! like blowin' out a match. You can't get fifty people together in
+any town what believe in religion any more. The religion of common sense
+has come now, and it's come to stay."
+
+A voice with a curious singing inflection came from the corner of the
+carriage, a voice utterly unlike the harsh North-country accent of the
+workman. The old woman was beginning to speak.
+
+Gortre recognised the curious Cornish tones at once, and looked up with
+sudden interest.
+
+"You'm wrong, my son," said the old woman, "bitter wrong you be, and
+'tis carnal vanity that spakes within you. To Lostwithul, where I bide,
+I could show 'ee different to what you do say."
+
+The workman, a good-humoured fellow enough, smiled superior at the odd
+old thing. The wrinkled face had become animated, two deep lines ran
+from the nostrils to the corner of the lips, hard and uncompromising.
+The eyes were bright.
+
+"Well, Mother," he said, "let's hear what _you've_ got ter say. Fair
+do's in argument is only just and proper."
+
+"Ah!" she replied, "it's easy to go scat when you've not got love of the
+Lard in your heart. I be gone sixty years of age, and many as I can mind
+back-along as have trodden the path of sorrow. There be a brae lot o'
+fools about."
+
+The workman winked at Gortre with huge enjoyment, and settled himself
+comfortably in his place.
+
+"Then you don't hold with Disestablishing the Church, Mother?" he said.
+
+"I do take no stock in Church," she replied, "begging the gentleman's
+pardon"--this to Gortre. "I was born and bred a Wesleyan and such I'm
+like to die. How should I know what they'll be doing up to London church
+town? This here is my first visit to England to see my daughter, and
+it'll be the last I've a mind to take. You should come to Cornwall, my
+dear, and then you'll see if religion's over and done away with."
+
+"But you've heard of all as they've just found out at Jerusalem, surely?
+It's known now that Christ never was what He made out to be. He won't
+save no more sinners,--it's all false what the Bible says, it's been
+_proved_. I suppose you've heard about _that_ in Cornwall?"
+
+"I was down to the shop," said the old lady, with the gentle contempt of
+one speaking to a foolish child. "I was down to the shop December month,
+and Mrs. Baragwaneth showed me the _Western Morning News_ with a picture
+and a lot of talk saying the Bible was ontrue, and Captain Billy Peters,
+of Treurthian mine, he was down-along too. How 'a did laugh at 'un! 'My
+dear,' he says, ''tis like the coast guards going mackerel-seining.
+Night after night have they been out, and shot the nets, too, for they
+be alwass seein' something briming, thinking it a school o' fish, and
+not knowing 'tis but moonshine. It's want of _experience_ that do make
+folk talk so.'"
+
+"That's all very well, Mother," answered the man, slightly nettled by
+the placid assurance of her tone. "That's all pretty enough, and though
+I don't understand your fishing terms I can guess at your meaning. But
+here's the _proof_ on one side and nothing at all on t'other. Here's all
+the learned men of all countries as says the Bible is not true, _and
+proving_ it, and here's you with no learning at all just saying it _is_,
+with no proof whatever."
+
+"Do 'ee want proof, then?" she answered eagerly, the odd see-saw of her
+voice becoming more and more accentuated in her excitement. "I tell 'ee
+ther's as many proofs as pilchards in the say. Ever since the Lard
+died--ah! 'twas a bitter nailing, a bitter nailing, my dear!"--she
+paused, almost with tears in her voice, and the whole atmosphere of the
+little compartment seemed to Basil to be irradiated, glorified by the
+shining faith of the old dame--"ever since that time the proofs have
+been going on. Now I'll tell 'ee as some as I've see'd, my son. Samson
+Trevorrow to Carbis water married my sister, May Rosewarne, forty years
+ago. He would drink something terrible bad, and swear like a foreigner.
+He'd a half-share in a trawler, three cottages, and money in the bank.
+First his money went, then his cottages, and he led a life of sin and
+brawling. He were a bad man, my dear. Every one were at 'un for an
+ongodly wastrel, but 'a kept on. An' the Lard gave him no children; May
+could not make a child to him, for she were onfruitful, but he would not
+change. All that folk with sense could do was done, but 't were no
+use."
+
+"Well, I know the sort of man," said the workman, with conviction. His
+interest was roused, that unfailing interest which the poorer classes
+take in each other's family history.
+
+"Then you do know that nothing won't turn them from their evil ways?"
+
+"When a chap gets the drink in him like that," replied the artisan,
+"there's no power that will take him from it. He'd go through sheet iron
+for it."
+
+"And so would Samson Trevorrow, my dear," she continued. "One night he
+came home from Penzance market, market-peart, as the saying is, drunk if
+you will. My sister said something to 'un, what 't was I couldn't say,
+but he struck her, for the first time. Next morning was the Sunday, and
+when she told him of what he'd done overnight, he was shamed of himself,
+and she got him to come along with her to chapel. 'T was a minister from
+Bodmin as prached, and 'ee did prache the Lard at Sam until the Word got
+hold on 'un and the man shook with repentance at his naughty life. He
+did kneel down before them all and prayed for forgiveness, and for the
+Lard to help 'un to lead a new life. From that Sabbath till he died,
+many years after, Sam never took anything of liquor, he stopped his
+sweering and carrying on, and he lived as a good man should. And in a
+year the Lard sent 'un a son, and if God wills I shall see the boy this
+afternoon, for he's to meet the train. There now, my son, that be gospel
+truth what I tell 'ee. After that can you expect any one with a grain of
+sense to listen to such foolish truck as you do tell? The Lard did that
+for Samson Trevorrow, changed 'un from black to white, 'a did. If the
+Queen herself were to tell me that the Lard Jesus wasn't He, I wouldn't
+believe her."
+
+As Gortre drove from Euston through the thronged veins of London
+towards the Inn, he thought much and with great thankfulness of the
+little episode in the train. Such simple faith, such supreme conviction,
+was, he knew, the precious possession of thousands still. What did it
+matter to these sturdy Nonconformists in the lone West that _savants_
+denied Christ? All over England the serene triumph of the Gospel, deep,
+deep down in the hearts of quiet people, gave the eternal lie to Schuabe
+and his followers. Never could they overcome the Risen Lord in the human
+heart. He began to realise more and more the ineffable wonder of the
+Incarnation.
+
+Before he had arrived at Chancery Lane the London streets began to take
+hold of him once more with the old familiar grip. How utterly unchanged
+they were! It seemed but a day since he had left them; it was impossible
+at the moment of re-contact to realise all that had passed since he had
+gone away.
+
+He was to have an immediate and almost terrifying reminder of it. The
+door of the chambers was not locked, and pushing it open, he entered.
+
+Always most sensitive to the _atmosphere_ of a room, moral as well as
+material, he was immediately struck by that of the chambers, most
+unpleasantly so, indeed. Certain indications of what had been going on
+there were easily seen. Others were not so assertive, but contributed
+their part, nevertheless, to the subtle general impression of the place.
+
+The air was stale with the pungent smell of Turkish tobacco and spirits.
+It was obvious that the windows had not been as freely opened as their
+wont. A litter of theatre programmes lay on one chair. On another was a
+programme of a Covent Garden ball and a girl's shoe of white satin, into
+which a fading bouquet of hothouse flowers had been wantonly crushed.
+The table was covered with the _d�bris_ of a supper, a _p�t�_, some
+long-necked bottles which had held Niersteiner, a hideous box of pink
+satin and light blue ribbons half full of _glac�_ plums and chocolates.
+
+The little bust of the Hermes of Praxiteles, which stood on one of the
+bookcases, had been maltreated with a coarseness and vulgarity which
+hurt Basil like a blow. The delicate contour of the features, the pure
+white of the plaster, were soiled and degraded. The cheeks had been
+rouged up to the eyes, which were picked out in violet ink. The brows
+were arched with an "eyebrow pencil" and the lips with a vivid cardinal
+red.
+
+Basil put down his portmanteau and grew very pale as he looked round on
+these and many other evidences of sordid and unlovely riot. His heart
+sank within him. He began to fear for Harold Spence.
+
+Even as he looked round, Spence came into the room from his bed-chamber.
+He was dressed in a smoking jacket and flannel trousers. Basil saw at
+once that he had been drinking heavily. The cheeks were swollen under
+the pouch of the eye, he was unshaven, and his manner was full of noisy
+and tremulous geniality.
+
+There are men in whom a week or two of sudden relapse into old and evil
+courses has an extraordinarily visible effect. Spence was one of them.
+At the moment he looked as the clay model compares with the finished
+marble.
+
+Gortre was astounded at the change, but one thing the modern London
+clergyman learns is tact. The situation was obvious, it explained itself
+at once, and he nerved himself to deal with it warily and carefully.
+
+Spence himself was ill at ease at they went through the commonplaces of
+meeting. Then, when they were both seated by the fire and were smoking,
+he began to speak frankly.
+
+"I can see you are rather sick, old man," he said. "Better have it out
+and done with, don't you think?"
+
+"Tell me all about it, old fellow," said Gortre.
+
+"Well, there isn't very much to tell, only when I came back from
+Palestine after all that excitement I felt quite lost and miserable.
+Something seemed taken away out of one's life. Then there didn't seem
+much to do, and some of the old set looked me up and I have been
+racketing about town a good bit."
+
+"I thought you'd got over all that, Harold; because, putting it on no
+other grounds, you know the game is _not_ worth the candle."
+
+"So I had, Basil, before"--he swallowed something in his throat--"before
+_this_ happened. I didn't believe in it at first, of course, or, at
+least, not properly, when I got Hands's letter. But when I got out
+East--and you don't know and won't be able to understand how the East
+turns one's ideas upside down even at ordinary times--when I got out
+there and _saw_ what Hands had found, then everything seemed slipping
+away. Then the Commission came over and I was with them all and heard
+what they had to say. I know the whole private history of the thing from
+first to last. It made me quite hopeless--a terrible feeling--the sort
+of utter dreariness that Poe talks of that the man felt when he was
+riding up to the House of Usher. Of course, thousands of people must
+have felt just the same during the past weeks. But to have the one thing
+one leaned upon, the one hope that kept one straight in this life, the
+hope of another and happier one, cut suddenly out of one's
+consciousness! Is it any wonder that one has gone back to the old
+temptations? I don't think so, Basil."
+
+His voice dropped, an intense weariness showed in his face. His whole
+body seemed permeated by it, he seemed to sink together in his chair.
+All the mental pain he had endured, all the physical languor of fast
+living, that terrible nausea of the soul which seizes so imperiously
+upon the vicious man who is still conscious of sin; all these flooded
+over him, possessed him, as he sat before his friend.
+
+An enormous pity was in Basil's heart as he saw this concrete weakness
+and misery. He realised what he had only guessed at before or seen but
+dimly. He would not have believed this transformation possible; he had
+thought Harold stronger. But even as he pitied him he marvelled at the
+Power which had been able to keep the man pure and straight so long.
+Even this horrid _d�b�cle_ was but another, if indirect, testimony to
+the power of Faith.
+
+And, secondly, as he listened to his friend's story, a deep anger, a
+righteous wrath as fierce as flame burned within him as he thought of
+the two men who, he was persuaded, had brought this ruin upon another.
+In Spence he was able to see but a single case out of thousands which he
+knew must be similar to it. The evil passions which lie in the hearts of
+all men had been loosened and unchained; they had sprung into furious
+activity, liberated by the appalling conspiracy of Schuabe and Llwellyn.
+
+It is noticeable that there was by this time hardly any doubt in
+Gortre's mind as to the truth of his suspicions.
+
+"I understand it all, old man," he said, "and you needn't tell me any
+more. I can sympathise with you. But I have much to tell you--news, or,
+at least, theories, which you will be astounded to hear. Listen
+carefully to me. I believe that just as you were the instrument of first
+bringing this news to public notice, so you and I are going to prove its
+falsity, to unearth the most wicked conspiracy in the world's history.
+Pull yourself together and follow me with all your power. All hope is
+not yet gone."
+
+Basil saw, with some relief, the set and attentive face before him, a
+face more like the old Spence. But, as he began to tell his story, there
+flashed into his mind a sudden picture of the old Cornish woman in the
+train, and he marvelled at that greater faith as his eye fell upon the
+foul disorder of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE TRIUMPH OF SIR ROBERT LLWELLYN
+
+
+In the large, open fireplaces of the Sheridan Club dining-room, logs of
+pine and cedar wood gave out a regular and well-diffused warmth.
+Outside, the snow was still falling, and beyond the long windows,
+covered with their crimson curtains, the yellow air was full of soft and
+silent movement.
+
+The extreme comfort of the lofty, panelled dining-room was accentuated a
+hundred-fold, to those entering it, by the chilly experience of the
+streets.
+
+The electric lights burnt steadily in their silk shades, the gleams
+falling upon the elaborate table furniture in a thousand points of
+dancing light.
+
+At one of the tables, laid for two people, Sir Robert Llwellyn was
+sitting. He was in evening dress, and his massive face was closely
+scrutinising a printed list propped up against a wine-glass before him.
+His expression was interested and intent. By his side was a sheet of the
+club note-paper, and from time to time he jotted down something upon it
+with a slender gold pencil.
+
+The great arch�ologist was ordering dinner for himself and a guest with
+much thought and care.
+
+     _Cr�me d'asperge � la Reine_
+
+in his neat writing, the letters distinct from one another--almost like
+an inscription in Uncial Greek character, one might have fancied.
+
+_Turbot � l'Amiral_ promised well; the plump, powerful fingers wrote it
+down.
+
+_Poulardes du Mans r�ties_ with _petits pois � la Fran�aise_ with a
+_salade Ni�oise_ to follow; that would be excellent! Then just a little
+_supr�me de p�ches, � la Montreuil_, which is quite the best kind of
+_supr�me_, then some _Parmesan_ before the coffee.
+
+"Quite a simple dinner, Painter," he said to the steward of the
+room,--the famous "small dining-room" with its alcoves and discreet
+corners,--"simple but good. Of course you will tell Maurice that it is
+for _me_. I want him to do quite his best. If you will send this list
+off to the kitchens with a message, we will go into the wines together."
+
+They went carefully into the wines.
+
+"Remember that we shall want the large liqueur glasses," he said, "with
+the Tuileries brandy. In fact, I think I'll take a little now, as an
+_ap�ritif_."
+
+The man bowed confidentially and went away. He returned with a long
+bottle of curious shape with an imperial crown blown in the glass. It
+was some of the famous brandy which had been lately found bricked up in
+a cellar close to the _Place Carrousel_, and was worth its weight in
+gold.
+
+On the tray stood one of the curious liqueur glasses lately introduced
+into the club by Sir Robert. It was the shape of a port-wine glass, but
+enormously large, capable of holding a pint or more, and made of glass
+as thin as tissue paper and fragile as straw. The steward poured a very
+little of the brandy into the great glass and twirled it round rapidly
+by the stem. This was the most epicurean device for bringing out the
+bouquet of the liqueur.
+
+Llwellyn sipped the precious liquid with an air of the most intense
+enjoyment. His face glowed with enthusiasm.
+
+"Wonderful, wonderful!" he said in a hushed voice. "There, take it away
+and bring me an olive. Then I will go down-stairs and wait for my friend
+in the smoking-room. You will serve the soup at five minutes past
+eight."
+
+He got up from the table and moved silently over the heavy carpet to the
+door.
+
+It was about seven o'clock. At eight Constantine Schuabe was coming to
+the Sheridan Club to dine.
+
+Sir Robert sat in the smoking-room with a tiny cigarette of South
+American tobacco, wrapped in maize leaf and tied round the centre with a
+tiny cord of green silk. His face expressed nothing but the most
+absolute repose. His correspondence with life was at that moment as
+complete as the most perfect health and discriminating luxury could make
+it.
+
+He stretched out his feet to the blaze and idly watched the reflection
+in the points of his shining boots.
+
+The room was quite silent now. A few men sat about reading the evening
+papers, and there was a subdued hum of talk from a table where two men
+were playing a casual game of chess, in which neither of them seemed
+much interested. A large clock upon the oak mantel-shelf ticked with
+muffled and soothing regularity.
+
+Llwellyn picked up a sixpenny illustrated paper, devoted to amusements
+and the lighter side of life, and lazily opened it.
+
+His eye fell upon a double-page article interspersed with photographs of
+actors and actresses. The article was a summing-up of the year's events
+on the lighter stage by an accepted expert in such matters. He read as
+follows:
+
+     "The six Trocadero girls whom I remember in Paris recently billed
+     as 'The Cocktails,' never forget that grace is more important in
+     dancing than mere agility. They are youthful looking, pretty and
+     supple, and their manoeuvres are cunningly devised. The _diseuse_ of
+     the troupe, Mdlle. Nepinasse, sings the Parisian success, _Viens
+     Poupoule_, with considerable 'go' and swing. But in hearing her at
+     the 'Gloucester' the other night I could not help regretting the
+     disappearance of brilliant Gertrude Hunt from the boards where she
+     was so great an attraction. _Poupoule_, or its English equivalent,
+     is just the type of song, with its attendant descriptive dance, in
+     which that gay little lady was seen at her best. In losing her, the
+     musical-comedy stage has lost a player whose peculiar individuality
+     will not easily be replaced. Gertrude Hunt stood quite alone among
+     her sisters of the Profession. Who will readily forget the pert
+     _insouciance_, the little trick of the gloved hands, the mellow
+     calling voice? It has been announced that this popular favourite
+     has disappeared for ever from the stage. But there is a distinct
+     mystery about the sudden eclipse of this star, and one which
+     conjecture and inquiry has utterly failed to solve. Well, I, in
+     common with thousands of others, can only sigh and regret it. Yet I
+     should like to think that these lines would meet her eye, and she
+     may know that I am only voicing the wishes of the public when I
+     call to her to come back and delight our eyes and ears as before."
+
+By the side of the paragraph there was a photograph of Gertrude Hunt. He
+stared at it, his mind busy with memories and evil longing. The bold,
+handsome face, the great eyes, looked him full in the face. Never had
+any woman been able to hold him as this one. She had become part of his
+life. In his mad passion for the dancer he had risked everything, until
+his whole career had depended upon the good-will of Constantine Schuabe.
+There had been no greater pleasure than to satisfy her wishes, however
+tasteless, however vulgar. And then, hastening back to her side with a
+fortune for her (the second he had poured into the white grasping
+hands), he had found her with the severe young priest. A power which he
+was unable to understand had risen up as a bar to his enormous egoism.
+She had gone, utterly disappeared, vanished as a shadow vanishes at the
+moving of a light.
+
+And all his resources, all those of the theatre people with whom she had
+been so long associated, had utterly failed to trace her.
+
+The Church had swallowed her up in its mystery and gloom. She was lost
+to him for ever. And the fierce longing to be with her once more burnt
+within him like the unhallowed flame upon the altar of an idol.
+
+As he regarded the chaos into which the Church was plunged he would
+laugh to himself in horrid glee. His indifference to all forms of
+religious congregations had gone. He felt an active and bitter hatred
+now hardly less than that of Schuabe himself. And all the concentrated
+hatred and incalculable malice that his poisoned brain distilled was
+focussed and directed upon the young curate who had been the means and
+instrument of his discomfiture. He had begun to plan schemes of swift
+revenge, laughing at himself sometimes for the crude melodrama of his
+thoughts.
+
+As a waiter with his powdered hair and white silk stockings showed
+Schuabe into the smoking-room, the Jew saw with surprise the flushed and
+agitated face of his host, so unlike its usual sensual serenity. He
+wondered what had arisen to disturb Llwellyn, and he made up his mind
+that he would know it before the evening was over.
+
+Schuabe, on his part, seemed depressed and in poor spirits. There was a
+restlessness, quite foreign to his usual composure, which appeared in
+little nervous tricks of his fingers. He toyed with his wine-glass and
+did poor justice to the careful dinner.
+
+"Everything is going on very well," Llwellyn said. "My book is nearly
+finished, and the American rights were sold yesterday. The Council of
+the Free Churches have appointed Dr. Barker to write a counterblast. Who
+could have foreseen the stir and tumult in the world? Everything is
+toppling over in the religious world. I have read of your triumphal
+progress in the North--this asparagus soup is excellent."
+
+"I don't feel very much inclined to talk of these things to-night," said
+Schuabe. "To tell the truth, my nerves are a little out of order, and I
+have been doing too much. I've got in that ridiculous state in which one
+is constantly apprehending some sinister event. Everything has gone
+well, and yet I'm like this. It is foolish. How humiliating a thought it
+is, Llwellyn, that even intellects like yours and mine are entirely
+dependent upon the secretions of the liver!"
+
+He smiled rather grimly, and the disturbance of the regular repose and
+immobility of his face showed depths of weary unhappiness which betrayed
+the tumult within.
+
+He recovered himself quickly, anxious, it seemed, to betray his thoughts
+no further.
+
+"You seemed upset when I came into the club," he said. "You ought to be
+happy enough. Debts all gone, fifty thousand in the bank, reputation
+higher than ever, and all the world listening to everything you've got
+to say." He smiled rather bitterly, as Llwellyn raised a glass of
+champagne to his lips.
+
+"Exactly," said Llwellyn. "I've got everything I wanted a few months
+ago, and one of the principal inducements for wanting it has gone."
+
+"Oh! you mean that girl?" answered Schuabe, contemptuously. "Well, buy
+another. They are for sale in all the theatres, you know."
+
+"It's all very well to sneer like that," replied Llwellyn. "It's nothing
+to me that you're about as cold-blooded as a fish, but you needn't sneer
+at a man who is not. Because you enjoy yourself by means of asceticism
+you have no more virtue than I have. I am fond of this one girl; she has
+become necessary to my life. I spent thousands on her, and then this
+abominable young parson takes her away--" He ground his teeth savagely,
+his face became purple, he was unable to finish his sentence.
+
+Curiously enough Schuabe seemed to be in sympathy with his host's rage.
+A deadly and vindictive expression crept into his eyes, which were
+nevertheless more glittering and cold than before.
+
+"Gortre has come back to London. He has been here nearly a week," said
+Schuabe, quickly.
+
+The other started. "You know his movements then? What has he to do with
+_you_?"
+
+"More than, perhaps, you think. Llwellyn, that young man is dangerous!"
+
+"He's done me all the harm he can already. There is nothing else he can
+do, unless he elopes with Lady Llwellyn, an event which I should view
+with singular equanimity."
+
+"At any rate, I take sufficient interest in that person's movements to
+have them reported to me daily."
+
+"Why on earth----?"
+
+"Simply because he guesses, or will guess, at the truth about the
+Damascus Gate sepulchre!"
+
+Llwellyn grew utterly white. When he spoke it was with several
+preliminary moistenings of the lips.
+
+"But what proof can he have?"
+
+"Don't be alarmed, Llwellyn. We are perfectly safe in every way. Only
+the man is an enemy of mine, and even small enemies are obnoxious. He
+won't disturb either of us for long."
+
+The big man gave a sigh of relief. "Well, you manage as you think best,"
+he said. "Confound him! He deserves all he gets--let's change the
+subject. It's a little too Adelphi-like to be amusing."
+
+"I am going to hear Pachmann in the St. James's Hall. Will you come?"
+
+Llwellyn considered a moment. "No, I don't think I will. I'm going out
+to a supper-party in St. John's Wood later--Charlie Fitzgerald's, the
+lessee of the Piccadilly. I shall go home and read a novel quietly. To
+tell the truth, I feel rather depressed, too. Everything seems going too
+well, doesn't it?"
+
+Schuabe's voice shook a little as he replied shortly.
+
+For a brief moment the veil was raised. Each saw the other with eyes
+full of the fear that was lurking within them.
+
+For weeks they had been at cross purposes, simulating a courage and
+indifference they did not feel.
+
+Now each knew the truth.
+
+They knew that the burden of their terrible secret was beginning to
+press and enclose them with its awful weight. Each had imagined the
+other free from his own terror, that terror that lifts up its head in
+times of night and silence, the dread Incubus that murders sleep.
+
+The two men went out of the club together without speaking. Their hearts
+were beating like drums within them; it was the beginning of the agony.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Llwellyn, his coat exchanged for a smoking jacket, lay back in a leather
+chair in his library. Since his return from Palestine he had transferred
+most of his belongings to a small flat in New Bond Street. He hardly
+ever visited his wife now. The flat in Bloomsbury Court Mansions had
+been given up when Gertrude Hunt had gone.
+
+In New Bond Street Sir Robert lived alone. A housekeeper in the basement
+of the buildings looked after his rooms and his valet slept above.
+
+The new _pied � terre_ was furnished with great luxury. It was not the
+garish luxury and vulgar splendour of Bloomsbury Court--that had been
+the dancer's taste. Here Llwellyn had gathered round him all that could
+make life pleasant, and his own taste had seen to everything.
+
+As he sat alone, slightly recovered from the nervous shock of the
+dinner, but in an utter depression of spirits, his thoughts once more
+went back to his lost mistress.
+
+It was in times like these that he needed her most. She would distract
+him, amuse him, where a less vulgar, more intellectual woman would have
+increased his boredom.
+
+He sighed heavily, pitying himself, utterly unconscious of his
+degradation. The books upon the shelves, learned and weighty monographs
+in all languages, his own brilliant contributions to historical science
+among them, had no power to help him. He sighed for his rowdy Circe.
+
+The electric bell of the flat rang sharply outside in the passage. His
+man was out, and he rose to answer it himself.
+
+A friend probably had looked him up for a drink and smoke. He was glad;
+he wanted companionship, easy, genial companionship, not that pale devil
+Schuabe, with his dreary talk and everlasting reminder.
+
+He went out into the passage and opened the front door. A woman stood
+there.
+
+She moved, and the light from the hall shone on her face.
+
+The eyes were brilliant, the lips were half parted.
+
+It was Gertrude Hunt.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They were sitting on each side of the fire.
+
+Gertrude was pale, but her dark beauty blazed at him.
+
+She was smoking a cigarette, just as in the old time.
+
+A little table with a caraffe of brandy and bottles of seltzer in a
+silver stand stood between them.
+
+Llwellyn's face was one large circle of pleasure and content. His eyes
+gleamed with an evil triumph as he looked at the girl.
+
+"Good Heavens!" he cried, "why, Gertie, it's almost worth while losing
+you to have you back again like this. It's just exactly as it used to
+be, only better; yes, better! So you got tired of it all, and you've
+come back. What a little fool you were ever to go away, dear!"
+
+"Yes, I got tired of it," she repeated, but in a curiously strained
+voice.
+
+He was too exhilarated to notice the strange manner of her reply.
+
+"Well, I've got any amount of ready cash now," he said joyously. "You
+can have anything you like now that you've given up the confounded
+parsons and become sensible again."
+
+She seemed to make an effort to throw off something that oppressed her.
+
+"Now, Bob," she said, "don't talk about it. I've been a little fool, but
+that's over. What a lot you've got to tell me! What did you do all the
+time you were away? Where did you raise the 'oof from? Tell me
+_everything_. Let's be as we were before. No more secrets!"
+
+He seemed to hesitate for a moment.
+
+She saw that, and stood up. "Come and kiss me, Bob," she said. He went
+to her with unsteady footsteps, as if he were intoxicated by the fury of
+his passion.
+
+"Tell me everything, Bob," she whispered into his ear.
+
+The man surrendered himself to her, utterly, absolutely.
+
+"Gertie," he said, "I'll tell you the queerest story you ever heard."
+
+He laughed wildly.
+
+"I've tricked the whole world by Jove! cleared fifty thousand pounds,
+and made fools of the whole world."
+
+She laughed, a shrill, high treble.
+
+"Dear old Bob," she cried; "clever old Bob, you're the best of them all!
+What have you done this time? Tell me all about it."
+
+"By God, I will," he cried. "I'll tell you the whole story, little
+girl." His voice was utterly changed.
+
+"Yes, everything!" she repeated fiercely.
+
+Her body shook violently as she spoke.
+
+The man thought it was in response to his caresses.
+
+And the face which looked out over the man's shoulder, and had lately
+been as the face of Delilah, was become as the face of Jael, the wife of
+Heber the Kenite.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"No more secrets, Bob?"
+
+"No more secrets, Gertie; but how pale you look! Take some brandy,
+little girl. Now, I'm going to make you laugh! Listen!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+PROGRESS
+
+
+Sir Michael Manichoe, Father Ripon, and Harold Spence were sitting in
+Sir Michael's own study in his London house in Berkeley Square. A small
+circular table with the remains of a simple meal showed that they had
+dined there, without formality, more of necessity than pleasure.
+
+When a small company of men animated by one strenuous purpose meet
+together, the same expression may often be seen on the face of each one
+of them. The three men in the study were curiously alike at this moment.
+A grim resolution, something of horror, a great expectation looked out
+of their eyes.
+
+Sir Michael looked at his watch. "Gortre ought to be here directly," he
+said. "It won't take him very long to drive from Victoria. The train
+must be in already."
+
+Father Ripon nodded, without speaking.
+
+There was another interval of silence.
+
+Then Spence spoke. "Of course it is only a _chance_," he said. "Gertrude
+Hunt may very likely be able to give us no information whatever. One can
+hardly suppose that Llewellyn would confide in her."
+
+"Not fully," said Father Ripon. "But there will be letters probably. I
+feel sure that Gortre will come back with some contributory evidence, at
+all events. We must go to work slowly, and with the greatest care."
+
+"The greatest possible care," repeated Sir Michael. "On the shoulders of
+us four people hangs an incredible burden. We must do nothing until we
+are _sure_. But ever since Gortre's suspicions have been known to me,
+ever since Schuabe asked you that curious question in the train, Ripon,
+I have felt absolutely assured of their truth. Everything becomes clear
+at once. The only difficulty is the difficulty of believing in such
+colossal wickedness, coupled with such supreme daring."
+
+"It is hard," said Father Ripon. "But probably one's mind is dazzled
+with the consequences, the _size_, and immensity of the fraud. Apart
+from this question of bigness, it may be that there is, given a certain
+Napoleonic type of brain, no more danger or difficulty in doing such
+gigantic evil than in doing evil on a smaller scale."
+
+"Perhaps the size of the operation blinds people--" Spence was
+continuing, when the door opened and the butler showed Gortre into the
+room.
+
+He wore a heavy black cloak and carried a Paisley travelling rug upon
+his arm.
+
+The three waiting men started up at his approach, with an unspoken
+question on the lips of each one of them.
+
+Gortre began to speak at once. He was slightly flushed from his ride
+through the keen, frosty air of the evening. His manner was brisk,
+hopeful.
+
+"The interview was excessively painful, as I had anticipated," he began.
+"The result has been this: I have been able to get no direct absolute
+confirmation of what we think. On the other hand, what I _have_ heard
+establishes something and has made me morally certain that we are on the
+right track. I think there can be no doubt about that. Again, there is a
+strong possibility that we shall know much more very shortly."
+
+"Have you had anything to eat?" asked Sir Michael.
+
+"No, sir, and I'm hungry after my journey. I'll have some of this cold
+beef, and tell you everything that has happened while I eat."
+
+He sat down, began his meal, and told his story in detail.
+
+"I found Miss Hunt," he said, "in her little cottage by the coast-guard
+watch-house, looking over the sea. Of course, as you know, she is known
+as Mrs. Hunt in the village. Only the rector knows her story--she has
+made herself very beloved in Eastworld, even in the short time she has
+been there. I asked her, first of all, about her life in general. Then,
+without in any way indicating the object of my visit--at that point--I
+led the conversation up to the subject of the Palestine 'discovery.' Of
+course she had heard of it, and knew all the details. The rector had
+preached upon it, and the whole village, so it seems, was in a ferment
+for a week or so. Then, in both Church and the Dissenting chapels--there
+are two--the whole thing died away in a marvellous manner. The history
+of it was extremely interesting. Every one came to service just the same
+as usual, life went on in unbroken placidity. The fishermen, who compose
+the whole population of the village, absolutely _refused_ to believe or
+discuss the thing. So utterly different from townspeople! They simply
+felt and knew intuitively that the statements made in the papers _must_
+be untrue. So without argument or worry they ignored it. Miss Hunt said
+that the church has been fuller than ever before, the people coming as a
+sort of stubborn protest against any attack upon the faith of their
+fathers. For her own part, when she realised what the news meant or
+would mean, Miss Hunt had a black time of terror and struggle. She is a
+woman with a good brain, and saw at once what it would mean to her. Her
+own words were infinitely pathetic. 'I went out on the sands,' she said,
+'and walked for miles. Then when I was tired out I sat down and cried,
+to think that there would never be any Jesus any more to save poor
+girls. It seemed so empty and terrible, and I'd only been trying to be
+good such a short time. I went to evensong when I got back; the bell was
+tolling just as usual. And as I sat there I saw that it _couldn't_ be
+true that Jesus was just a good man, and not God. I wondered at myself
+for doubting, seeing what He'd done for me. If the paper was right, then
+why was it I was so happy, happier than ever before in my life--although
+I am going to die soon? Why was it that I could go away and leave Bob
+and the old life? why was it that I could see Jesus in my walks, hear
+the wind praying--feel that everything was speaking of Him?' That was
+the gist of what she said, though there was much more. I wish I could
+tell you adequately of the deep conviction in her voice and eyes. One
+doesn't often see it, except in very old people. After this I began to
+speak of our suspicions as delicately as possible. It was horribly
+difficult. One was afraid of awakening old longings and recalling that
+man's influence. I was relieved to find that she took it very well
+indeed. Her feelings towards the man have undergone a complete change.
+She fears him, not because he has yet an influence over her, but with a
+hearty fear and horror of the life she was living with him. When I told
+her what we thought, she began at once by saying that from what she knew
+of Llwellyn he would not stop even at such wickedness as this. She said
+that he only cared for two things, and kept them quite distinct. When he
+is working he throws his whole heart into what he is doing, and he will
+let no obstacle stand in his way. He wants to constantly assure himself
+of his own pre-eminence in his work. He must be first at any cost. When
+his work is over he dismisses it absolutely from his thoughts, and lives
+entirely for gross, material pleasures. The man seems to pursue these
+with a horrid, overwhelming eagerness. I gather that he must be one of
+the coldest and most calculating sybarites that breathes. The actual
+points I have gathered are these, and I think you will see that they are
+extremely important. Llwellyn was indebted enormously to Schuabe.
+Suddenly, Miss Hunt tells me, when Llwellyn's financial position began
+to be very shaky, Schuabe forgave him the old debts and paid him a large
+sum of money. Llwellyn paid off a lot of the girl's debts, and he told
+her that the money had come from that source. It was not a loan this
+time, he said to her, but a payment for some work he was about to do. He
+also impressed the necessity of silence upon her. While away he wrote
+several times to her--once from Alexandria, from one or two places on
+the Continent, _and twice from the German hotel, the_ 'Sab�l,' _in
+Jerusalem_."
+
+There was a sudden murmur from one or two men who were listening to
+Gortre's narrative. He had long since forgotten to eat and was leaning
+forward on the table. He paused for a moment, drank a glass of water,
+and concluded:
+
+"This then is all that I know at present, but it gives us a basis. We
+know that Sir Robert Llwellyn was staying privately at Jerusalem. Miss
+Hunt was instructed to write to him under the name of the Rev. Robert
+Lake, and she did so, thinking that his incognito was assumed owing to
+the kind of pleasures he was pursuing, and especially because of his
+recent knighthood. But in a week's time Miss Hunt has asked me to go
+down to Eastworld again, as she has hopes of getting other evidence for
+me. She will not say what this is likely to consist of, or, in fact,
+tell me anything about it. But she has hopes."
+
+"This is of great importance, Gortre," said Sir Michael; "we have
+something definite to go upon."
+
+"I will start again for Jerusalem without loss of a day," said Spence,
+his whole face lighting up and hardening at the thought of active
+occupation.
+
+"I was going to suggest it, Mr. Spence," said Sir Michael. "You will do
+what is necessary better than any of us; your departure will attract
+less notice. You will of course draw upon me for any moneys that may be
+necessary. If in the course of your investigations it may be--and it is
+extremely probable--may be necessary to buy the truth, of course no
+money considerations must stand in the way. We are working for the peace
+and happiness of millions. We are in very deep waters."
+
+Father Ripon gave a deep sigh. Then, in an instant, his face hardened
+and flushed till it was almost unrecognisable. The others started back
+from him in amazement. He began to tremble violently from the legs
+upwards. Then he spoke:
+
+"God forgive me," he said in a thick, husky voice. "God forgive me! But
+when I think of those two men, devils that they are, devils! when I
+regard the broken lives, the suicides, the fearful mass of crime, I----"
+
+His voice failed him. The frightful wrath and anger took him and shook
+him like a reed--this tall, black-robed figure--it twisted him with a
+physical convulsion inexpressibly painful to witness.
+
+For near a minute Father Ripon stood among them thus, and they were
+rigid with sympathy, with alarm.
+
+Then, with a heavy sob, he turned and fell upon his knees in silent
+prayer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A SOUL ALONE ON THE SEA-SHORE
+
+
+The little village of Eastworld is set on a low headland by the sea,
+remote from towns and any haunt of men. The white cottages of the
+fisherfolk, an inn, the church, and a low range of coast-guard
+buildings, are the only buildings there. Below the headland there are
+miles upon miles of utterly lonely sands which edge the sea in a great
+yellow scimitar as far as the eye can carry, from east to west.
+
+Hardly any human footsteps ever disturb the vast virgin smoothness of
+the sands, for the fisherfolk sail up the mouth of a sluggish tidal
+river to reach the village. All day long the melancholy sea-birds call
+to each other over the wastes, and away on the sky-line, or so it seems
+to any one walking upon the sands, the great white breakers roll and
+boom for ever.
+
+Over the flat expanses the tide, with no obstacle to slacken or impede
+its progress, rushes with furious haste--as fast, so the fisherfolks
+tell, as a good horse in full gallop.
+
+It was the beginning of the winter afternoon on the day after Gortre had
+visited Eastworld.
+
+There was little wind, but the sky hung low in cold and menacing clouds,
+ineffably cheerless and gloomy.
+
+A single figure moved slowly through these forbidding solitudes. It was
+Gertrude Hunt. She wore a simple coat and skirt of grey tweed, a
+tam-o'-shanter cap of crimson wool, and carried a walking cane.
+
+She had come out alone to think out a problem out there between the sea
+and sky, with no human help or sympathy to aid her.
+
+The strong, passionate face was paler than before and worn by suffering.
+Yet as she strode along there was a wild beauty in her appearance which
+seemed to harmonise with the very spirit and meaning of the place where
+she was. And yet the face had lost the old jaunty hardihood. Qualities
+in it which had before spoken of an impudent self-sufficiency now were
+changed to quiet purpose. There was an appeal for pity in the eyes which
+had once been bright with shamelessness and sin.
+
+The woman was thinking deeply. Her head was bowed as she walked, the
+lips set close together.
+
+Gortre's visit had moved her deeply. When she had heard his story
+something within her, an intuition beyond calm reason, had told her
+instantly of its truth. She could not have said why she knew this, but
+she was utterly certain.
+
+Her long connection with Llwellyn had left no traces of affection now.
+As she would kneel in the little windy church on the headland and listen
+to the rector, an old friend of Father Ripon's, reading prayers, she
+looked back on her past life as a man going about his business in
+sunlight remembers some horrid nightmare of the evening past. She but
+rarely allowed her thoughts to dwell upon the former partner of her sin,
+but when she did so it was with a sense of shrinking and dislike. As the
+new Light which filled her life taught, she endeavoured to think of the
+man with Christian charity and sometimes to pray that his heart also
+might be touched. But perhaps this was the most difficult of all the
+duties she set herself, although she had no illusions about the past,
+realised his kindness to her, and also that she had been at least as bad
+as he. But now there seemed a great gulf between them which she never
+cared to pass even in thought.
+
+Her repentance was so sincere and deep, her mourning for her misspent
+life so genuine, that it never allowed her the least iota of spiritual
+pride--the snare of weaker penitents when they have turned from evil
+courses. Yet, try as she would, she could never manage to really
+identify her hopes and prayers with Llwellyn in any vivid way.
+
+And now the young clergyman, the actual instrument of her own salvation
+as she regarded him, had come to her with this story in which she had
+recognised the truth.
+
+In sad and eloquent words he had painted for her what the great fraud
+had meant to thousands. He told of upright and godly men stricken down
+because their faith was not strong enough to bear the blow. There was
+the curate at Wigan, who had shot himself and left a heart-breaking
+letter of mad mockery behind him; there were other cases of suicide.
+There was the surging tide of crime, rising ever higher and higher as
+the clergy lost all their influence in the slums of London and the great
+towns. He told her of Harold Spence, mentioning him as "a journalist
+friend of mine," explaining what a good fellow he was, and how he had
+overcome his temptations with the aid of religion and faith. And he
+described his own return to Lincoln's Inn, the disorder, and Harold's
+miserable story. She could picture it all so well, that side of life.
+She knew its every detail. And, moreover, Gortre had said "the evil was
+growing and spreading each day, each hour." True as it was that the
+myriad lamps of the Faithful only burned the brighter for the
+surrounding gloom, yet that gloom was growing and rolling up, even as
+the clouds on which her unseeing eyes were fixed as she walked along the
+shore. Men were becoming reckless; the hosts of evil triumphed on every
+side.
+
+The thought which came to her as Gortre had gradually unfolded the
+object of his visit was startling. She herself might perhaps prove to be
+the pivot upon which these great events were turning. It was possible
+that by her words, that by means of her help, the dark conspiracy might
+be unveiled and the world freed from its burden. She herself might be
+able to do all this, a kind of thank-offering for the miraculous change
+that had been wrought in her life.
+
+Yet, when it was all summed up, how little she had to tell Gortre after
+all! True, her information was of some value; it seemed to confirm what
+he and his friends suspected. But still it was very little, and it meant
+long delay, if she could provide no other key to open this dark door.
+And meanwhile souls were dying and sinking....
+
+She had asked Gortre to come to her again in a week.
+
+In that time, she had said, she might have some further information for
+him.
+
+And now she was out here, alone on the sands, to ask her soul and God
+what she was to do.
+
+The clouds fell lower, a cutting wind began to moan and cry over the
+sand, which was swept up and swirled in her face. And still she went on
+with a bitterness and chill as of death in her heart.
+
+She knew her power over her former lover,--if that pure word could
+describe such an unhallowed passion,--knew her power well. He would be
+as wax in her hands, and it had always been so. From the very first she
+had done what she liked with him, and there had always been an
+undercurrent of contempt in her thoughts that a man could be led so
+easily, could be made the doll and puppet of his own passion. Nor did
+she doubt that her power still remained. She felt sure of that. Even in
+her seclusion some news of his frantic attempts to find her had reached
+her. Her beauty still remained, heightened indeed by the slow complaint
+from which she was suffering. He knew nothing of that. And, as for the
+rest--the rouge-pot, the belladonna--well, they were still available,
+though she had thought to have done with them for ever.
+
+The idea began to emerge from the mist, as it were, and to take form and
+colour. She thought definitely of it, though with horror; looked it in
+the face, though shuddering as she did so.
+
+It resolved itself into a statement, a formula, which rang and dinned
+itself repeatedly into her consciousness like the ominous strokes of a
+bell heard through the turmoil of the gathering storm,--
+
+"_If I go back to Bob and pretend I'm tired of being good, he will tell
+me all he's done._"
+
+Over and over again the girl repeated the sentence to herself. It glowed
+in her brain, and burnt it like letters of heated wire. She looked up at
+the leaden canopy which held the wind, and it flashed out at her in
+letters of violet lightning. The wind carved it in the sand,--
+
+"_If I go back to Bob and pretend I'm tired of being good, he will tell
+me what he has done._"
+
+Could she do this thing for the sake of Gortre, for the sake of the
+world? What did it mean exactly? She would be sinning terribly once
+more, going back to the old life. It was possible that she might never
+be able to break away again after achieving her purpose; one did not
+twice escape hell. It would mean that she sinned a deadly sin in order
+to help others. Ought she to do that! Was that right?
+
+The wind fifed round her, shrieking.
+
+_Could she do this thing?_
+
+She would only be sinning with her body, not with her heart, and Christ
+would know why she did so. Would He cast her out for this?
+
+The struggle went on in her brain. She was not a subtle person, unused
+to any self-communing that was not perfectly straightforward and simple.
+The efforts she was making now were terribly hard for her to endure. Yet
+she forced her mind to the work by a great effort of will, summoned all
+her flagging energies to high consideration.
+
+If she went back it _might_ mean utter damnation, even though she found
+out what she wanted to find out. She had been a Christian so short a
+time, she knew very little of the truth about these matters.
+
+In her misery and struggle she began more and more to think in this way.
+
+Suddenly she saw the thing, as she fancied, and indeed said half aloud
+to herself, "in a common-sense light." Her face worked horribly, though
+she was quite unconscious of it.
+
+"It's better that one person, especially one that's been as bad as I
+have, should go to hell than hundreds and thousands of others."
+
+And then her decision was taken.
+
+The light died out of her face, the hope also. She became old in a
+sudden moment.
+
+And, with one despairing prayer for forgiveness, she began to walk
+towards her cottage--there was a fast train to town.
+
+She believed that there could hardly be forgiveness for her act, and yet
+the thought of "the others" gave her strength to sin.
+
+And so, out of her great love for Christ, this poor harlot set out to
+sin a sin which she thought would take Him away from her for ever.
+
+
+END OF BOOK II
+
+
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+
+" ... Woman fearing and trembling"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+WHAT IT MEANT TO THE WORLD'S WOMEN
+
+
+In her house in the older, early-Victorian remnants of Kensington, Mrs.
+Hubert Armstrong sat at breakfast. Her daughter, a pretty,
+unintellectual girl, was pouring out tea with a suggestion of flippancy
+in her manner. The room was grave and somewhat formal. Portraits of
+Matthew Arnold, Professor Green, and Mark Pattison hung upon the sombre,
+olive walls.
+
+Over the mantel-shelf, painted in ornamental chocolate-coloured letters,
+the famous authoress's pet motto was austerely blazoned,--
+
+"_The decisive events of the world take place in the intellect._"
+
+Indeed, save for the bright-haired girl at the urn, the room struck just
+that note. It would be difficult to imagine an ordinary conversation
+taking place there. It was a place in which solid chunks of thought were
+gravely handed about.
+
+Mrs. Armstrong wore a flowing morning wrap of dark red material. It was
+clasped at the smooth white throat by a large cameo brooch, a dignified
+bauble once the property of George Eliot. The clear, steady eyes, the
+smooth bands of shining hair, the full, calm lips of the lady were all
+eloquent of splendid unemotional health, assisted by a careful system
+of hygiene.
+
+She was opening her letters, cutting the envelopes carefully with a
+silver knife.
+
+"Shall I give you some more tea, Mother?" the daughter asked in a
+somewhat impatient voice. The offer was declined, and the girl rose to
+go. "I'm off now to skate with the Tremaines at Henglers," she said, and
+hurriedly left the room.
+
+Mrs. Armstrong sighed in a sort of placid wonder, as Minerva might have
+sighed coming suddenly upon Psyche running races with Cupid in a wood,
+and turned to another letter.
+
+It was written in firm, strong writing on paper headed with some
+official-looking print.
+
+
+     THE WORLD'S WOMAN'S LEAGUE
+
+     LONDON HEADQUARTERS,
+     100 REGENT STREET, S. W.
+
+     SECRETARY, MISS PAULL
+
+     "MY DEAR CHARLOTTE,--I should be extremely glad to see you here
+     to-day about lunch time. I must have a long and important talk with
+     you. The work is in a bad way. I know you are extremely busy, but
+     trust to see you as the matters for conference are urgent.
+     Your affectionate Sister,
+
+          "CATHERINE PAULL."
+
+
+Miss Paull was a well-known figure in what may be called "executive"
+life. Both she and her elder sister, Mrs. Armstrong, had been daughters
+of an Oxford tutor, and had become immersed in public affairs early in
+life. While the elder became a famous novelist and leader of "cultured
+doubt," the younger had remained unmarried and thrown herself with great
+eagerness into the movement which had for its object the strengthening
+of woman's position and the lightening of her burdens, no less in
+England than over the whole world.
+
+The "World's Woman's League" was a great unsectarian society with
+tentacles all over the globe. The Indian lady missionaries and doctors,
+who worked in the zenanas, were affiliated to it. The English and
+American vigilance societies for the safe-guarding of girls, the women
+of the furtive students' clubs in Russia, the Melbourne society for the
+supply of domestic workers in the lonely up-country stations of
+Australia, all, while having their own corporate and separate
+existences, were affiliated to, and in communication with, the central
+offices of the League in Regent Street.
+
+The League was all-embracing. Christian, non-Christian, or heathen, it
+mattered nothing. It aimed at the gigantic task of centralising all the
+societies for the welfare of women throughout the globe.
+
+On the board of directors one found the names and titles of all the
+humanitarians of Europe.
+
+The working head of this vast organisation was the thin, active woman of
+middle age whose name figured in a hundred blue-books, whose speeches
+and articles were sometimes of international importance, whose political
+power was undoubtable--Miss Catherine Paull.
+
+The most important function of the League, or one of its most important
+functions, was the yearly publication of a huge report or statement of
+more than a thousand pages. This annual was recognised universally as
+the most trustworthy and valuable summary of the progress of women in
+the world. It was quoted in Parliament a hundred times each session; its
+figures were regarded as authoritative in every way.
+
+This report was published every May, and as Mrs. Hubert Armstrong drove
+to Regent Street in her brougham she realised that points in connection
+with it were to be discussed, possibly with the various sectional
+editors, possibly with Miss Paull alone.
+
+As was natural, so distinguished an example of the "higher woman" as
+Mrs. Armstrong was a great help to the League, and her near relationship
+to the secretary made her help and advice in constant request.
+
+The office occupied two extensive floors in the quadrant, housing an
+army of women clerks, typewriters, and a literary staff almost
+exclusively feminine. Here, from morning till night, was a hum of busy
+activity quite foreign to the office controlled by the more drone-like
+men. Miss Paull contrived to interest the most insignificant of her
+girls in the work that was to be done, making each one feel that in the
+performance of her task lay not only the means of earning a weekly wage,
+but of doing something for women all over the world.
+
+In short, the League was an admirable and powerful institution, presided
+over by an admirable and earnest woman of wonderful organising ability
+and the gift of tact, that _extreme_ tact necessary in dealing with
+hundreds of societies officered and ruled by women whose official
+activities did not always quell that feminine jealousy and bickering
+which generally militate against success.
+
+It was some weeks since Mrs. Armstrong had seen her sister or
+communicated with her. The great events in Jerusalem, the chaos into
+which the holders of the old creeds had been thrown, had meant a series
+of platform and journalistic triumphs for the novelist. Her importance
+had increased a thousand-fold, her presence was demanded everywhere, and
+she had quite lost touch with the League for a time.
+
+As she entered her sister's room she was beaming with satisfaction at
+the memory of the past few weeks, and anticipating with pleasure the
+congratulations that would be forthcoming. Miss Paull, in the main,
+agreed with her sister's opinions, though her extraordinarily strenuous
+life and busy activities in other directions prevented her public
+adherence to them.
+
+Moreover, her position as head of the League, which included so many
+definitely Christian societies, made it inadvisable for her to take a
+prominent controversial part as Mrs. Armstrong did.
+
+The secretary's room was large and well lit by double windows, which
+prevented the roar of the Regent Street traffic from becoming too
+obtrusive.
+
+Except that there was some evidence of order and neatness on the three
+great writing-tables, and that the books on the shelves were all in
+their places, there was nothing to distinguish the place from the
+private room of a busy solicitor or merchant.
+
+Perhaps the only thing which gave the place any really individual note
+was a large brass kettle, which droned on the fire, and a sort of
+sideboard with a good many teacups and a glass jar full of what seemed
+to be sponge cakes.
+
+The two women greeted each other affectionately. Then Miss Paull sent
+away her secretary, who had been writing with her, expressing her desire
+to be quite alone for an hour or more.
+
+"I want to discuss the report with you, Charlotte," said Miss Paull,
+deftly pouring some hot water into a green stone-ware teapot.
+
+She removed her _pince-nez_, which had become clouded with the steam,
+and waited for Mrs. Armstrong to speak.
+
+"I expected that was it when I got your note, dear," said the novelist.
+"I am sorry I have been so much away of late. But, of course, you will
+have seen how my time has been taken up. Since all Our contentions have
+been so remarkably established, of course one is looked to a great
+deal. I have to be everywhere just at present. _John Mulgrave_ has been
+through three more editions during the last fortnight."
+
+"Yes, Charlotte," answered the sister, "one hears of you on all sides.
+It is a wonderful triumph from one point of view."
+
+Mrs. Armstrong looked up quickly, with surprise in her eyes. There was a
+strange lack of enthusiasm in the secretary's tone. Indeed, it was even
+less than unenthusiastic; it hinted almost of dislike, nearly of dismay.
+
+It could not be jealousy of the blaze of notoriety which had fallen upon
+Mrs. Armstrong, the lady knew her sister too well for that. For one
+brief moment she allowed herself the unworthy suspicion that Miss Paull
+had been harbouring Christian leanings, or had, in the stress and worry
+of overwork, permitted herself a sentimental adherence to the
+Christ-myth.
+
+But it was only for a single moment that such thoughts remained in her
+brain. She dismissed them at once as disloyal to her sister and
+undignified for herself.
+
+"I don't quite understand, Catherine," she said. "Surely from _every_
+point of view this glorious vindication of the truth is of
+_incalculable_ benefit to mankind. How can it be otherwise? Now that we
+know the great teacher Jesus----"
+
+She was beginning somewhat on the lines of her public utterances, with a
+slightly inspired look which, though habit had made mechanical, was
+still sincere, when her sister checked her with some asperity.
+
+"That is all well and good," she said, her rather sharp, animated
+features becoming more harsh and eager as she spoke. "You, Charlotte,
+are at the moment concerned with the future and with abstractions. I am
+busied with the present and with _facts_. However I may share your
+gladness at this vindication, in my official capacity, and more, in the
+interests of my life work, I am bound to deplore what has happened. I
+deplore it grievously."
+
+Placid and equable as was her usual temper of mind, Mrs. Armstrong was
+hardly proof against such a sweeping assertion as this.
+
+Her face flushed slightly.
+
+"Please explain," she said somewhat coldly.
+
+"That is why I wanted you to come to-day," answered Miss Paull. "I very
+much fear you will be more than startled at what I have to tell you and
+show you. My facts are all ready--piteous, heart-breaking facts, too.
+_We_ know, here, what is going on below the surface. _We_ are confronted
+by statistics, and theories pale before them. Our system is perfect."
+
+She made a movement of her arm and pointed to a small adjacent table, on
+which were arranged various documents for inspection.
+
+The novelist followed the glance, curiously disturbed by the sadness of
+the other's voice and the bitterness of her manner. "Show me what you
+mean, dear," she said.
+
+Miss Paull got up and went to the table. "I will begin with points of
+local interest," she said, "that is, with the English statistics. In
+regard to these I will call your attention to a branch of the Social
+Question. First of all, look at the monthly map for the current month
+and the one for the month before the Palestine Discovery."
+
+She handed two outline maps of Great Britain and Ireland to her sister.
+
+The maps were shaded in crimson in different localities, the colour
+being either light, medium, or dark. Innumerable figures were dotted
+over them, referring to comprehensive marginal notes. Above each map was
+printed:
+
+     SERIES D.--CRIMES AGAINST WOMEN
+
+And the month and year were written in below in violet ink.
+
+Mrs. Armstrong held the two maps, which were mounted on stiff card, and
+glanced from one to the other. Suddenly her face flushed, her eyes
+became full of incredulous horror, and she stared at her sister. "What
+is this, Catherine?" she said in a high, agitated voice. "Surely there
+is some mistake? This is terrible!"
+
+"Terrible, indeed," Miss Paull answered. "During the last month, in
+Wales, criminal assaults have increased _two hundred per cent_. In
+England scarcely less. In Ireland, with the exception of Ulster, the
+increase has been only eight per cent. I am comparing the map before the
+discovery with that of the present month. Crimes of ordinary violence,
+wife-beating and such like, have increased fifty per cent., on an
+average, all over the United Kingdom. We have, of course, all the
+convictions, sentences, and so forth. The local agents supply them to
+the British Protection Society, they tabulate them and send them here,
+and then the maps are made in this office ready for the annual report."
+
+"But," said Mrs. Armstrong with a shocked, pale face, "is it _certain_
+that this is a case of cause and effect?"
+
+"Absolutely certain, Charlotte. Here I have over a thousand letters from
+men and women interested in the work in all the great towns. They are in
+answer to direct queries on the subject. In order that there could be no
+possibility of any sectarian bias, the form has been sent to leading
+citizens, of all denominations and creeds, who are interested in the
+work. I will show you two letters at random."
+
+She picked out two of the printed forms which had been sent out and
+returned filled in, and gave them to Mrs. Armstrong. One ran:
+
+     "_Kindly state what, in your opinion, is the cause of the abnormal
+     increase of crimes against women in Great Britain during the past
+     month, as shown by the annexed map_.
+
+     "NAME. Rev. William Carr,
+     "Vicar of St. Saviour's,
+     "Birmingtown.
+
+     "The recent 'discovery' in Palestine, which appears to do away with
+     the Resurrection of Christ, is in my opinion entirely responsible
+     for the increase of crime mentioned above. Now that the Incarnation
+     is on all hands said to be a myth, the greatest restraint upon
+     human passion is removed. In my district I have found that the
+     moment men give up Christ and believe in this 'discovery,' the
+     moment that the Virgin birth and the manifestation to the Magdalen
+     are dismissed as untrue, women's claim to consideration, and
+     reverence for women's chastity, in the eyes of these men disappear.
+
+          "WILLIAM CARR."
+
+Mrs. Armstrong said nothing whatever, but turned to the other form. In
+this case the name was that of a Manchester alderman, obviously a
+Jew--Moses Goldstein, of Goldstein & Hildesheimer, chemical bleachers.
+
+In a flowing business hand the following remarks were written:
+
+     "Regrettable increase of crime due in my opinion to sudden wave of
+     disbelief in Christian doctrines. Have questioned men in my own
+     works on the subject. Record this as fact without pretending to
+     understand it. Crimes of violence on increase among Jewish workmen
+     also. Probably sympathetic reaction against morality, though as a
+     strict Jew myself find this doubly distressing.
+
+          "MOSES GOLDSTEIN."
+
+"The famous philanthropist," murmured Mrs. Armstrong.
+
+The lady seemed dazed. Her usual calm volubility seemed to have deserted
+her.
+
+"This is a terrible blow," said Miss Paull, sadly, "and day by day
+things are getting worse as figures come in. It seems as if all our work
+has been in vain. Men seem to be relapsing into the state of the
+barbaric heathen world. But there is much more yet. I will read you an
+extract from Mrs. Mary P. Corbin's letter from Chicago. You will
+remember that she is the organising secretary of the United States
+branch of the League."
+
+She took up a bundle of closely typewritten sheets.
+
+     "'The Friend to Poor Girls' Society' in this city reports a most
+     painful state of things. The work has suddenly fallen to pieces and
+     become totally disorganised. Many of the girls have left the home
+     and returned to lives of prostitution--there seems to be no
+     restraining influence left. In a few cases girls have returned,
+     after two or three weeks of sin, mere wrecks of their former
+     selves. A---- S---- was a well-known girl on the streets when she
+     was converted and brought to the home. Five weeks ago she went
+     away, announcing her intention of resuming her former life. She has
+     just returned in a dying condition from brutal ill-usage. She says
+     that her former experience was nothing to what she has lately
+     endured. Her words are terribly significant: '_I went back as I
+     thought it was no use being good any more now that there isn't any
+     Jesus. I thought I'd have a good old time. But it's not as it was.
+     Hell's broke loose in the streets. The men are a million times
+     worse than they were. It's hell now._'
+
+     "Another awful blow has been struck at the purity work. The state
+     of the lower parts of Chicago and New York City has become so bad
+     that even the municipal authorities have become seriously alarmed.
+     Unmentionable orgies take place in public. Accordingly a bill is to
+     be rushed through Congress licensing so many houses of ill-fame in
+     each city ward, according to the Continental system."
+
+She laid down the letter. "There is no need to read more than extracts,"
+she said. "The letter is full of horrors. I may mention that the law
+against polygamy in the Mormon State of Utah is on the point of being
+repealed, and there can be no doubt that things will soon be as bad as
+ever there. Here is a letter from the Bishop of Toomarbin, who is at
+present in Melbourne, Australia. A Bill is preparing in the House of
+Legislature to make the divorce laws for men as easy and simple as
+possible, while women's privileges are to be greatly curtailed in this
+direction. In Rhodesia the mine-captains are beginning to flog native
+women quite unchecked by the local magistrates. English magistrates----"
+
+"Stop, dear," said Mrs. Armstrong, with a sudden gesture almost of fear.
+There was a craven, hunted look in the eyes of this well-known woman.
+Her face was blanched with pain. She sat huddled up in her chair. All
+the stately confidence was gone. That proud bearing of equality, and
+more than equality, with men, which was so noticeable a characteristic
+of her port and manner, had vanished.
+
+The white hand which lifted a cup of scalding tea to her lips trembled
+like a leaf.
+
+The sisters sat together in silence. They sat there, names famous in the
+world for courage, ability, resource. To these two, perhaps more than to
+any others in England, had been given the power of building up the great
+edifice of women's enlightened position at the present day.
+
+And now?
+
+In a moment all was changed. The brute in man was awake, unchained, and
+loose. The fires of cruelty and lust were lit, they heard the roaring of
+the fires like the roaring of wolves that "devour apace and nothing
+said."
+
+Mrs. Armstrong was terribly affected. Her keen intelligence told her at
+once of coming horrors of which these were but the earliest signs.
+
+The roaring of a great fire, louder and more menacing, nearer ...
+nearer.
+
+Christ had gone from the world never to return--Christ Whom the proud,
+wishful, worldly woman had not believed in.... They were flogging girls,
+selling girls ... the fires grew greater and greater ... nearer!
+
+          MARY, PITY WOMEN!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+CYRIL HANDS REDUX
+
+
+For the first two weeks after Hands's return he was utterly bewildered
+by the rush of events in which he must take part and had little or no
+time for thought.
+
+His days were filled by official conferences with his chiefs at the
+Exploring Society, from which important but by no means wealthy body he
+had suddenly attained more than financial security.
+
+Meeting succeeded meeting. Hands was in constant communication with the
+heads of the Church, Government, and Society. Interviewers from all the
+important papers shadowed him everywhere. Despite his protests, for he
+was a quiet and retiring man, photographers fought for him, and his
+long, somewhat melancholy face and pointed fair beard stared at him
+everywhere.
+
+He had to read papers at learned societies, and afterwards women came
+and carried him off to evening parties without possibility of escape.
+
+The Unitarians of England started a monster subscription for him, a
+subscription which grew so fast that the less sober papers began to
+estimate it day by day and to point out that the fortunate discoverer
+would be a rich man for life.
+
+Everywhere he was flattered, caressed, and made much of. In fact, he
+underwent what to some natures is the grimmest torture of a humane
+age--he became the MAN OF THE HOUR. Even by Churchmen and others most
+interested in denying the truth of the discovery, Hands was treated with
+consideration and deference. His own _bona fides_ in the matter was
+indubitable, his long and notable record forbade suspicion.
+
+Of Gortre Hands saw but little. Their greeting had been cordial, but
+there was some natural restraint, one fearing the attitude of the other.
+Gortre, no less than Hands, was much away from the chambers, and the
+pair had few confidences. Hands felt, naturally enough under the
+circumstances, that he would have been more comfortable with Spence. He
+was surprised to find him absent, but all he was able to glean was that
+the journalist had suddenly left for the Continent upon a special
+mission. Hands supposed that Continental feeling was to be thoroughly
+tested, and that the work had fallen to Spence.
+
+Meanwhile the invitations flowed in. The old staircase of the inn was
+besieged with callers. In order to escape them, Hands was forced to
+spend much time in the chambers on the other side of the landing, which
+belonged to a young barrister, Kennedy by name, who was able to put a
+spare sitting-room at his disposal. This gentleman, briefless and happy,
+was somewhat of the Dick Swiveller type, and it gave him intense
+pleasure to reconnoitre the opposite "oak" through the slit of his
+letter-box, and to report and speculate upon those who stood knocking
+for admission.
+
+How he loathed it all!
+
+The shock and surprise of it was not one of the least distressing
+features.
+
+Far away in the ancient Eastern city he had indeed realised the
+momentous nature of the strange and awful things he had found. But of
+the consequences to himself he had thought nothing, and of the effects
+on the world he had not had time to think.
+
+Hands had never wished to be celebrated. His temperament was poetic in
+essence, retiring in action. He longed to be back under the eye of the
+sun, to move among the memorials of the past with his Arab boys, to lie
+upon the beach of the Dead Sea when no airs stirred, and, suddenly, to
+hear a vast, mysterious breaker, coming from nowhere, with no visible
+cause, like some great beast crashing through the jungle.
+
+And he had exchanged all this for lunches at institutions, for hot rooms
+full of flowers and fools of women who said, "Oh, _do_ tell me all about
+your delightful discovery," smiling through their paint while the
+world's heart was breaking. And there was worse to come. At no distant
+date he would have to stand upon the platform at the Albert Hall, and
+Mr. Constantine Schuabe, M.P., Mrs. Hubert Armstrong, the writing
+woman--the whole crowd of uncongenial people--would hand him a cheque
+for some preposterous sum of money which he did not in the least want.
+There would be speeches----
+
+He was not made for this life.
+
+His own convictions of Christianity had never been thoroughly formulated
+or marked out in his brain. All that was mystical in the great history
+of Christ had always attracted him. He took an �sthetic pleasure in the
+beautiful story. To him more than to most men it had become a vivid
+_panoramic_ vision. The background and accessories had been part of his
+daily life for years. It was as the figure of King Arthur and his old
+knights might be to some loving student of Malory.
+
+And although his life was pure, his actions gentle and blameless, it had
+always been thus to him--a lovely and poetic picture and no more. He
+had never made a personal application of it to himself. His heart had
+never been touched, and he had never heard the Divine Voice calling to
+him.
+
+At the end of a fortnight Hands found that he could stand the strain no
+longer. His nerves were failing him; there was a constant babble of
+meaningless voices in his ear which took all the zest and savour from
+life. His doctor told him quite unmistakably that he was doing too much,
+that he was not inured to this gaiety, and that he must go away to some
+solitude by the sea and rest.
+
+The advice not only coincided with his own wishes, but made them
+possible. A good many engagements were cancelled, a paragraph appeared
+in the newspapers to say that Mr. Hands's medical adviser had insisted
+upon a thorough rest, and the man of the moment disappeared. Save only
+Gortre and the secretary of the Exploring Society, no one knew of his
+whereabouts.
+
+In a week he was forgotten. Greater things began to animate
+Society--harsh, terrible, ugly things. There was no time to think of
+Hands, the instrument which had brought them about.
+
+The doctor had recommended the remotest parts of Cornwall. Standing in
+his comfortable room at Harley Street, he expatiated, with an
+enthusiastic movement of his hand, upon the peace to be found in that
+lost country of frowning rocks and bottle-green seas, where, so far is
+it from the great centres of action, men still talk of "going into
+England" as if it were an enterprise, an adventure.
+
+Two days found him at a lonely fishing cove, rather than village,
+lodging in the house of a coast-guard, not far from Saint Ives.
+
+A few whitewashed houses ran down to the beach of the little natural
+harbour where the boats were sheltered.
+
+On the shores of the little "Porth," as it was called, the fishermen sat
+about with sleepy, vacant eyes, waiting for the signal of watchmen on
+the moor above--the shrill Cornish cry of "Ubba!" "Ubba!" which would
+tell them the mackerel were in sight.
+
+Behind the cove, running inland, were the vast, lonely moors which run
+between the Atlantic and the Channel. It is always grey and sad upon
+these rolling solitudes, sad and silent. The glory of summer gorse had
+not yet clothed them with a fleeting warmth and hospitality. As far as
+the eye could reach they stretched away with a forlorn immensity that
+struck cold to Hands's heart. Peace was here indeed, but how austere!
+quiet, but what a brooding and cruel silence!
+
+Every now and again the roving eye, in its search for incident and
+colour, was caught and arrested by the bleak engine-house of some
+ancient deserted mine and the gaunt chimney which pointed like a leaden
+finger to the stormy skies above. Great humming winds swept over the
+moor, driving flocks of Titanic clouds, an Olympian army in rout, before
+their fierce breath.
+
+Here, day by day, Hands took his solitary walk, or sometimes he would
+sit sheltered in a hollow of the jagged volcanic rocks which set round
+about the cove a barrier of jagged teeth. Down below him a hard, green
+sea boiled and seethed in an agony of fierce unrest. The black
+cormorants in the middle distance dived for their cold prey. The
+sea-birds were tossed on the currents of the wild air, calling to each
+other with forlorn, melancholy voices. This remote Western world
+resounded with the powerful voices of the waves; night and day the gongs
+of Neptune's anger were sounding.
+
+In the afternoon a weary postman tramped over the moor. He brought the
+London newspapers of the day before, and Hands read them with a strange
+subjective sensation of spectatorship.
+
+So far away was he from the world that by a paradox of psychology he
+viewed its turmoil with a clearer eye. As poetry is emotion remembered
+in tranquillity, as a painter often prefers to paint a great canvas from
+studies and memory--quiet in his studio--rather than from the actual but
+too kinetic scene, so Hands as he read the news-sheets felt and lived
+the story they had to tell far more acutely than in London.
+
+He had more time to think about what he read. It was in this lost corner
+of the world that the chill began to creep over him.
+
+The furious sounds of Nature clamoured in his ears, assaulting them like
+strongholds; these were the objective sounds.
+
+But as his subjective brain grew clear the words his eyes conveyed to it
+filled it with a more awful reverberation.
+
+The awful weight grew. He began to realise with terrible distinctness
+_the consequences_ of his discovery. They stunned him. A carved
+inscription, a crumbling tomb in half an acre of waste ground. He had
+stumbled upon so much and little more. _He_, Cyril Hands, had found
+this.
+
+His straining eyes day by day turned to the columns of the papers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+     ALL YE INHABITANTS OF THE WORLD, AND DWELLERS ON THE EARTH, SEE YE,
+     WHEN HE LIFTETH UP AN ENSIGN ON THE MOUNTAINS.--ISAIAH XVIII: 3
+
+
+Hands awoke to terrible realisation.
+
+The telegrams in the newspapers provided him with a bird's-eye view, an
+epitomised summary of a world in tumult.
+
+Out of a wealth of detail, culled from innumerable telegrams and
+articles, certain facts stood out clearly.
+
+In the Balkan States, always in unrest, a crisis, graver than ever
+before, suddenly came about. The situation _flared_ up like a petrol
+explosion.
+
+A great revival of Mohammedan enthusiasm had begun to spread from
+Jerusalem as soon as Europe had more or less definitely accepted the
+discovery made by Cyril Hands and confirmed by the international
+committee.
+
+It was no longer possible to hold the troops of the Sultan in check. It
+was openly said by the correspondents that _instructions_ had been sent
+from Yildiz Kiosk to the provincial Valis in both European and Asiatic
+Turkey that Christians were to be exterminated, swept for ever from the
+world.
+
+Telegrams of dire importance filled the columns of the papers.
+
+Hands would read in one _Daily Wire_:
+
+     "PARIS (_From our own Correspondent_).--The Prince of Bulgaria has
+     indefinitely postponed his departure, and remains at the Hotel Ritz
+     for the present. It is impossible for him to progress beyond
+     Vienna. Dr. Daneff, the Bulgarian Premier, has arrived here. In the
+     course of an interview with a representative of _Le Matin_ he has
+     stated the only hope of saving the Christians remaining in the
+     Balkan States lies in the intervention of Russia. 'The situation,'
+     Dr. Daneff is reported to have said, 'has assumed the appearance of
+     a religious war. The followers of Islam are drunk with triumph and
+     hatred of the "Nazarenes." The recent discoveries in Jerusalem
+     simply mean a licence to sweep Christians out of existence. The
+     exulting cries of "Ashahadu, l� �laha ill Allah" have already
+     sounded the death-knell of our ancient faith in Bulgaria.' M.
+     Daneff was extremely affected during the interview, and states that
+     Prince Ferdinand is unable to leave his room."
+
+Never before in the history of Eastern Europe had the future appeared so
+gloomy or the present been so replete with horror.
+
+The massacres of bygone years were as nothing to those which were daily
+flashed over the wires to startle and appal a world which was still
+Christian, at least in name.
+
+An extract from a leading article in the _Daily Wire_ shows that the
+underlying reason and cause was thoroughly appreciated and understood in
+England no less than abroad.
+
+     "In this labyrinth of myth and murder," the article said, "a
+     sudden and spontaneous outburst of hatred, of Mussulman hatred for
+     the Christian, has now--owing to the overthrow of the chief
+     accepted doctrine of the Christian faith--become a deliberate
+     measure of extermination adopted by a barbarous Government as the
+     simplest solution of the problem in the Near East. The stupendous
+     fact which has lately burst upon the world has had effects which,
+     while they might have been anticipated in some degree, have already
+     passed far beyond the bounds of the most confirmed political
+     pessimist's dream.
+
+     "From the _fact_ of the Jerusalem discovery, ambitious agitators
+     have hurried to draw their profit. Politicians have not hesitated
+     to provoke a series of massacres, and by playing upon the worst
+     forms of Mussulman fanaticism to organise that ghastliest system of
+     crime upon the largest and most comprehensive scale. The whole
+     thing is, moreover, immensely complicated by the utter
+     unscrupulousness of that association universally notorious as the
+     Macedonian Committee. These people, who may be described as a
+     company of aspirants to the crown of immortality earned by other
+     people's martyrdom, have themselves assisted in the work of
+     lighting the fires of Turkish passion, and they have helped to
+     provoke atrocities which will enable them to pose before the eyes
+     of the civilised world as the interesting victims of Moslem
+     ferocity."
+
+Thus Hands read in his rock cave above the boiling winter sea. Thus and
+much more, as the cloud grew darker and darker over Eastern Europe,
+darker and darker day by day.
+
+In a week it became plain to the world that Bulgarians, Servians, and
+Armenians alike had collapsed utterly before the insolent exultation of
+the Turks. The spirit of resistance and enthusiasm had gone. The
+ignorant and tortured peoples had no answer for those who flung foul
+insults at the Cross.
+
+As reflected in the newspapers, the public mind in England was becoming
+seriously alarmed at these horrible and daily bulletins, but neither
+Parliament nor people were as yet ready with a suggested course of
+action. The forces of disintegration had been at work; it seemed no
+longer possible to secure a great _body_ of opinion as in the old times.
+And Englishmen were troubled with grave domestic problems also. More
+especially the great increase of the worst forms of crime attracted
+universal attention and dismay.
+
+Then news came which shook the whole country to its depths. Men began to
+look into each other's eyes and ask what these things might mean.
+
+Hands read:
+
+     "Our special correspondent in Bombay telegraphs disquieting news
+     from India. The native regiments in Bengal are becoming difficult
+     to handle. The officers of the staff corps are making special
+     reports to headquarters. Three native officers of the 100th Bengal
+     Lancers have been placed under arrest, though no particulars as to
+     the exact reason for this step have been allowed to transpire."
+
+This first guarded intimation of serious disaffection in India was
+followed, two days afterwards, by longer and far more serious reports.
+The Indian mail arrived with copies of _The Madras Mail_ and _The Times
+of India_, which disclosed much more than had hitherto come over the
+cables.
+
+Long extracts were printed from these journals in the English dailies.
+
+Epitomised, Hands learned the following facts. From a mass of detail a
+few lurid facts remained fixed in his brain.
+
+The well-meant but frequently unsuccessful mission efforts in Southern
+India were brought to a complete and utter stand-still.
+
+By that thought-willed system of communication and the almost flame-like
+mouth-to-mouth carnage of news which is so inexplicable to Western
+minds, who can only understand the workings of the electric telegraph,
+the whole of India seemed to be throbbing with the news of the downfall
+of Christianity, and this within a fortnight of the publication of the
+European report.
+
+From Cashmere to Travancore the millions whispered the news to each
+other with fierce if secret exultation.
+
+The higher Hinduism, the key to the native character in India, the wall
+of caste, rose up grim and forbidding. The passionate earnestness of the
+missionaries was met by questions they could not answer. In a few days
+the work of years seemed utterly undone.
+
+Europeans began to be insulted in the Punjaub as they had never been
+since the days before the Mutiny. English officers and civilians also
+began to send their wives home. The great P. and O. boats were
+inconveniently crowded.
+
+In Afghanistan there was a great uneasiness. The Emir had received two
+Russian officers. Russian troops were massing on the north-west
+frontier. Fanatics began to appear in the Hill provinces, claiming
+divine missions. People began to remember that every fourth man, woman,
+and child in the whole human race is a Buddhist. Asia began to feel a
+great thrill of excitement permeating it through and through. There were
+rumours of a new incarnation of Buddha, who would lead his followers to
+the conquest of the West.
+
+Troops from all over India began to concentrate near the Sri Ulang Pass
+in the Hindu-Kush.
+
+Simultaneously with these ominous rumours of war came an extraordinary
+outburst of Christian fanaticism in Russia. The peasantry burst into a
+flame of anger against England. The priests of the Greek Church not only
+refused to believe in the Palestine discovery, but they refused to
+ignore it, as the Roman Catholics of the world were endeavouring to do.
+
+They began to preach war against Great Britain for its infidelity, and
+the political Powers seized the opportunity to use religious fanaticism
+for their own ends.
+
+All these events happened with appalling _swiftness_.
+
+In the remote Cornish village Hands moved as in a dream. His eyes saw
+nothing of his surroundings, his face was pallid under the brown of his
+skin. Sometimes, as he sat alone on the moors or by the sea, he laughed
+loudly. Once a passing coast-guard heard him. The man told of it among
+the fishermen, and they regarded their silent visitor with something of
+awe, with the Celtic compassion for those mentally afflicted.
+
+On the first Sunday of his arrival Hands heard the deep singing of hymns
+coming from the little white chapel on the cliff. He entered in time for
+the sermon, which was preached by a minister who had walked over from
+Penzance.
+
+Here all the turmoil of the world beyond was ignored. It seemed as
+though nothing had ever been heard of the thing that was shaking the
+world. The pastor preached and prayed, the men and women answered with
+deep, groaning "Amens." It all mattered nothing to them. They heeded it
+no more than the wailing wind in the cove. The voice of Christ was not
+stilled in the hearts of this little congregation of the Faithful.
+
+This chilled the recluse. He could find no meaning or comfort in it.
+
+That evening he heard the daughter of the coast-guard with whom he
+lodged singing. It was a wild night, and Hands was sitting by the fire
+in his little sitting-room. Outside the wind and rain and waves were
+shouting furiously in the dark.
+
+The girl was playing a few simple chords on the harmonium and singing to
+them.
+
+"For ever with the Lord."
+
+An untuneful voice, louder than need be, but with what conviction!
+
+Hands tried to fix his attention on the newspaper which he held.
+
+He read that in Rhodesia the mine capitalists were moving for slavery
+pure and simple. It was proposed openly that slavery should be the
+penalty for law-breaking for natives. This was the only way, it
+asserted, by which the labour problem in South Africa could be solved.
+
+    "Life from the dead is in that word,
+      'Tis immortality."
+
+It seemed that there was small opposition to this proposal. It would be
+the best thing for the Kaffir, perhaps, this wise and kindly discipline.
+So the proposal was wrapped up.
+
+    "And nightly pitch my moving tent
+      A day's march nearer home."
+
+Hands saw that, quite suddenly, the _old horror of slavery had
+disappeared_.
+
+This, too, was coming, then? This old horror which Christians had
+banished from the world?
+
+    "So when my latest breath
+      Shall rend the veil in twain."
+
+Hands started. His thoughts came back to the house in which he sat. The
+girl's voice touched him immeasurably. He heard it clearly in a lull of
+the storm. Then another tremendous gust of wind drowned it.
+
+Two great tears rolled down his cheeks.
+
+It was midnight, and all the people in the house were long since asleep,
+when Hands picked up the last of his newspapers.
+
+It was Saturday's edition of the _London Daily Mercury_, the powerful
+rival of the _Wire_. A woman who had been to Penzance market had brought
+it home for him, otherwise he would have had to wait for it until the
+Monday morning.
+
+He gazed wearily round the homely room.
+
+Weariness, that was what lay heavy over mind and body--an utter
+weariness.
+
+The firelight played upon the crude pictures, the simple ornaments, the
+ship worked in worsted when the coast-guard was a boy in the Navy, the
+shells from a Pacific island, a model gun under a glass shade. But his
+thoughts were not prisoned by these humble walls and the humble room in
+which he sat. He heard the groaning of the peoples of the world, the
+tramp of armies, the bitter cry of souls from whom hope had been plucked
+for ever.
+
+He remembered the fair morning in Jerusalem when, with the earliest
+light of dawn, he had gone to work with his Arab boys before the heat of
+the day.
+
+From the Mosque of Omar he had heard the sonorous chant of the muezzin.
+
+    "THE NIGHT HAS GONE WITH THE DARKNESS, AND THE DAY APPROACHES WITH
+        LIGHT AND BRIGHTNESS!
+    "PRAISE GOD FOR SECURING HIS FAVOUR AND KINDNESS!
+    "GOD IS MOST GREAT! GOD IS MOST GREAT! I TESTIFY THAT THERE IS NO
+        GOD BUT GOD!
+    "I TESTIFY THAT MOHAMMED IS THE APOSTLE OF GOD!
+    "COME TO PRAYER!
+    "COME TO SECURITY!
+    "PRAYER IS BETTER THAN SLEEP!
+    "GOD IS MOST GREAT!
+    "THERE IS NO GOD BUT GOD!
+    "ARISE, MAKE MORNING, AND TO GOD BE THE PRAISE!"
+
+He had heard the magnificent chant as he passed by, almost kneeling with
+his Arabs. So short a time ago! Hardly three months--he had kept no
+count of time lately, but it could hardly be four months.
+
+How utterly unconscious he had been on that radiant morning outside the
+Damascus Gate! He had seen the men at work, and was sitting under his
+sun-tent writing on his pad; he was just lighting a cigarette, he
+remembered, when Ionides, the foreman, had come running up to him, his
+shrewd, brown face wrinkled with excitement.
+
+And now, even as he sat there on that stormy midnight, far from the
+world, even now the whole globe was echoing and reverberating with his
+discovery. He had opened the little rock chambers, and it seemed that
+the blows of the picks had set free a troop of ruinous spirits, who were
+devastating mankind.
+
+Pandora's box--that legend fitted what he had done, but with a deadly
+difference.
+
+He could not find that Hope remained. It would have been better a
+thousand times if the hot Eastern sun had struck him down that distant
+morning on his way through the city.
+
+The awful weight, the initial responsibility rested with _him_.
+
+_He_ alone had been the means by which the world was being shaken with
+horrors--horrors growing daily, and that seemed as if the end would be
+unutterable night.
+
+How the wind shrieked and wailed!
+
+    =Eg� I�s�ph ho apo Arimatheias.=
+
+The words were written in fire on his mind!
+
+The wind was shrieking louder and louder.
+
+The Atlantic boomed in one continuous burst of sound.
+
+He looked once more at the leading article in the paper.
+
+It was that article which was long afterwards remembered as the "Simple
+Statement" article.
+
+The writer had spoken the thought that was by this time trembling for
+utterance on the lips and in the brains of all Englishmen--the thought
+which had never been so squarely faced, so frankly stated before.
+
+Here and there passages started out more vividly than the rest. The
+words seemed to start out and stab him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     "--So much for INDIA, where, sprung from the same Cause, the
+     indications are impossible to mistake.
+
+     "Let us now turn to the ANGLO-SAXON sprung communities other than
+     these Islands.
+
+     "In AMERICA we find a wave of lawlessness and fierce riot passing
+     over the country, such as it has never known before.
+
+     "The IRISHMEN and ITALIANS, who throng the congested quarters of
+     the great cities, are robbing and murdering PROTESTANTS and JEWS.
+     The UNITED STATES Legislature is paralysed between the necessity of
+     keeping order and the impossibility of resolution in the face of
+     this tremendous _bouleversement_ of belief.
+
+     "From AUSTRALIA the foremost prelate of the great country writes of
+     the utter overthrow of a communal moral sense, and concludes his
+     communication with the following pathetic words:
+
+     "_'Everywhere,'_ he says, _'I see morals, no less than the religion
+     which inculcates them, falling into neglect, set aside in a spirit
+     of despair by fathers and mothers, treated with contempt by youths
+     and maidens, spat upon and cursed by a degraded populace, assailed
+     with eager sarcasm by the polite and cultured.'_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "The terrible seriousness of the situation need hardly be further
+    insisted on here. Its reality cannot be more vividly indicated than
+    by the statement of a single fact.
+
+    "CONSOLS ARE DOWN TO SIXTY-FIVE
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "--and therefore we demand, in the name of humanity, a far more
+    comprehensive and representative searching into the facts of the
+    alleged 'discovery' at JERUSALEM. Society is falling to pieces as we
+    write.
+
+    "Who will deny the reason?
+
+    "Already, after a few short weeks, we are learning that the world
+    cannot go on without Christianity. That is the Truth which the world
+    is forced to realise. And no essay in sociology, no special pleading
+    on the part of Scientists or Historians, can shake our conviction
+    that a creed which, when sudden doubts are thrown upon it, can be
+    the means of destroying the essential fabric of human society, is
+    not the true and unassailable creed of mankind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "We foresee an immediate reaction. The consequences of the wave of
+    antichristian belief are now, and will be, so devastating, that sane
+    men will find in Disbelief and its consequences a glorious
+    recrudescence and assurance of Faith."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Hands stared into the dying fire.
+
+A solemn passage from John Bright's great speech on the Crimean War came
+into his mind. The plangent power and deep earnestness of the words were
+even more applicable now than then.
+
+     _"The Angel of Death has been abroad throughout the land: you may
+     almost hear the beating of his wings. There is no one, as when the
+     first-born were slain of old, to sprinkle with blood the lintel and
+     two side-posts of our doors, that he may spare and pass on."_
+
+So they were asking for another commission! Well, they might try that as
+a forlorn hope, but _he knew_ that his discovery was real. Could _he_ be
+mistaken possibly? Could that congress of the learned be all mistaken
+and imposed upon? It was not possible. It could not be. Would that it
+_were_ possible.
+
+There was no hope, despite the newspapers. For centuries the world had
+been living in a fool's paradise. He had destroyed it. It would be a
+hundred years before the echoes of his deed had died away.
+
+But the terrible weight of the world's burden was too heavy for him to
+bear. He knew that. Not for much longer could he endure it.
+
+The life seemed oozing out of him, pressed out by a weight--the
+sensation was physical.
+
+He wished it was all over. He had no hope for the future, and no fear.
+
+The weight was too heavy. The outside dark came through the walls, and
+began to close in on him. His heart beat loudly. It seemed to rise up in
+his throat and choke him.
+
+The pressure grew each moment; mountains were being piled upon him,
+heavier, more heavy.
+
+The wind was but a distant murmur now, but the weight was crushing him.
+Only a few more moments and his heart would burst. _At last!_
+
+The dark thing huddled on the hearth-rug, which the girl found when she
+came down in the morning, was the scholar's body.
+
+The newspaper he had been reading lay upon his chest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+A LUNCHEON PARTY
+
+
+Constantine Schuabe's great room at the Hotel Cecil had been entirely
+refurnished and arranged for the winter months.
+
+The fur of great Arctic beasts lay upon the heavy Teheran carpets, which
+had replaced the summer matting--furs of enormous value. The dark red
+curtains which hung by windows and over doors were worked with threads
+of dull gold.
+
+All the chairs were more massive in material and upholstered warmly in
+soft leather; the logs in the fireplace crackled with white flame,
+amethyst in the glowing cavern beneath.
+
+However the winter winds might sweep over the Thames below or the rain
+splash and welter on the Embankment, no sound or sign of the turmoil
+could reach or trouble the people who moved in the fragrant warmth and
+comfort of this room.
+
+For his own part Schuabe never gave any attention to the _mise-en-sc�ne_
+by which he was surrounded, here or elsewhere. The head of a famous
+Oxford Street firm was told to call with his artists and undermen; he
+was given to understand that the best that could be done was to be done,
+and the matter was left entirely to him.
+
+In this there was nothing of the _parvenu_ or of an ignorance of art, as
+far as Schuabe was concerned. He was a man of catholic and cultured
+taste. But experience had taught him that his furnishing firm were
+trained to be catholic and cultured also, that an artist would see to it
+that no jarring notes appeared. And since he knew this, Schuabe
+infinitely preferred not to be bothered with details. In absolute
+contrast to Llwellyn, his mind was always busy with abstractions, with
+thought and forms of thought, things that cannot be handled or seen.
+They were the real things for him always.
+
+The millionaire sat alone by the glowing fire. He was wearing a long
+gown of camel's hair, dyed crimson, confined round the waist by a
+crimson cord. In this easy garment and a pair of morocco slippers
+without heels, he looked singularly Eastern. The whole face and figure
+suggested that--sinister, lonely, and splendid.
+
+The morning papers were resting on a chair by his side. He was reading
+one of them.
+
+It announced the death from heart disease of Mr. Cyril Hands while
+taking a few days' rest in a remote village of Cornwall. Not a shadow of
+regret passed over the regular, impassive face. The eyes remained in
+fixed thought. He was logically going over the bearings of this event in
+his mind. How could it affect _him_? _Would_ it affect him one way or
+the other?
+
+He paced the long room slowly. On the whole the incident seemed without
+meaning for him. If it meant anything at all it meant that his position
+was stronger than ever. The voice of the discoverer was now for ever
+silent. His testimony, his reluctant but convinced opinion, was upon
+record. Nothing could alter that. Hands might perhaps have had doubts in
+the future. He might have examined more keenly into the _way in which he
+came to examine the ground_ where the new tomb was hidden. Yes, this was
+better. That danger, remote as it had been, was over.
+
+As his eyes wandered over the rest of the news columns they became more
+alert, speculative, and anxious. The world was in a tumult, which grew
+louder and louder every hour. Thrones were rocking, dynasties trembling.
+
+He sank down in his chair with a sigh, passing his hand wearily over his
+face. Who could have foreseen this? It was beyond belief. He gazed at
+the havoc and ruin in terrified surprise, as a child might who had lit a
+little fire of straw, which had grown and devoured a great city.
+
+It was in this very room--just over there in the centre--that he had
+bought the brain and soul of the arch�ologist.
+
+The big man had stood exactly on that spot, blanched and trembling. His
+miserable notes of hand and promises to pay had flamed up in this fire.
+
+And now? India was slipping swiftly away; a bloody civil war was brewing
+in America; Central Europe was a smouldering torch; the whips of Africa
+were cracking in the ears of Englishmen; the fortunes of thousands were
+melting away like ice in the sun. In London gentlemen were going from
+their clubs to their houses at night carrying pistols and sword-sticks.
+North of Holborn, south of the Thames, no woman was safe after dark had
+fallen.
+
+He saw his face in an oval silver glass. It fascinated him as it had
+never done before. He gripped the leather back of a chair and stared
+fiercely, hungrily, at the image. It was _this_, this man he was
+looking at, some stranger it seemed, who had done all this. He
+laughed--a dreadful, mirthless, hollow laugh. This mass of phosphates,
+carbon, and water, this moving, talking thing in a scarlet gown, was the
+pivot on which the world was turning!
+
+His brain became darkened for a time, lost in an awful wonder. He could
+not realise or understand.
+
+And no one knew save his partner and instrument. _No one knew!_
+
+The secret seemed to be bursting and straining within him like some
+live, terrible creature that longed to rush into light. For weeks the
+haunting thought had grown and harassed him. It rang like bells in his
+memory. If only he could share his own dark knowledge. He wanted to take
+some calm, pale woman, to hold her tight and tell her all that he had
+done, to whisper it into her ears and watch the mask of flesh change and
+shrink, to see his words carve deep furrows in it, sear the eyes, burn
+the colour from the lips. He saw his own face was working with the mad
+violence of his imaginings.
+
+He _wrenched_ his brain back into normal grooves, as an engineer pulls
+over a lever. He was half-conscious of the simile as he did so.
+
+Turning away from the mirror, he shuddered as a man who has escaped from
+a sudden danger.
+
+_That_ above all things was fatal. His luxuriant Eastern imagination had
+been checked and kept in subjection all his life; the force of his
+intellect had tamed and starved it. He knew, none better, the end, the
+extinction of the brain that has got beyond control. No, come what may,
+he must watch himself cunningly that he did not succumb. A tiny speck in
+the brain, and then good-bye to thought and life for ever. He was a
+visitor of the Lancashire Asylum--had been so once at least--and he had
+seen the soulless lumps of flesh the doctors called "patients." ... "_I
+am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul_," he repeated
+to himself, and even as he did so, his other self sneered at the
+weakness which must comfort itself with a poet's rhyme and cling to an
+apothegm for readjustment.
+
+He tried to shut out the world's alarm from his mental eyes and ears.
+
+He went back to the scenes of his first triumph. They had been sweet
+indeed.
+
+Yes! worth all the price he had paid and might be called upon to pay.
+
+All over England his life's thought, his constant programme had been
+gloriously vindicated. They had hailed him as the prophet of Truth at
+first--a prophet who had cried in the wilderness for years, and who had
+at last come into his own.
+
+The voices of great men and vast multitudes had come to him as incense.
+He was to be the leader of the new religion of common sense. Why had
+they doubted him before, led away by the old superstitions?
+
+Men who had hated and feared him in the old days, had spoken against him
+and his doctrines as if both were abhorred and unclean, were his friends
+and servants now. Christians had humbled themselves to the
+representative of the new power. Bishops had consulted him as to the
+saving of the Church, and its reconstruction upon "newer, broader, more
+illuminated lines." They had come to him with fear--anxious, eager to
+confess the errors of the past, swift to flatter and suggest that, with
+his help, the fabric and political power of the Church might yet stand.
+
+He was shown, with furtive eyes and hesitating lips, from which the
+shame had not yet been cleansed, how desirable and necessary it was that
+in the reconstruction of Christianity the Church should still have a
+prominent and influential part.
+
+He had been a colossus among them all. But--and he thought of it with
+anger and the old amazement--all this had been _at first_, when the
+discovery had flashed over a startled world. While the thing was new it
+had been a great question, truly the greatest of all, but it had been
+one which affected men's minds and not their bodies. That is speaking of
+the world at large.
+
+As has already been pointed out, only _religious_ people--a vast host,
+but small beside the mass of Englishmen--were disturbed seriously by
+what had happened. The price of bread remained the same; beef was no
+dearer.
+
+During these first weeks Schuabe had been all-powerful. He and his
+friends had lived in a constant and stupendous triumph.
+
+But now--and in his frightful egoism he frowned at the thick black
+head-lines in the newspapers--the whole attitude of every one was
+changed. There was a reflex action, and in the noise it made Schuabe was
+forgotten.
+
+Men had more to think of now. There was no time to congratulate the man
+who had been so splendidly right.
+
+_Consols were at 65!_
+
+Bread was rising each week. War was imminent. On all sides great
+mercantile houses were crashing. Each fall meant a thousand minor
+catastrophes all over the country.
+
+The antichristians had no time to jeer at the Faithful; they must work
+and strain to save their own fortunes from the wreck.
+
+The mob, who were swiftly bereft of the luxuries which kept them in
+good-humour, were turning on the antichristian party now. In their
+blind, selfish unreason they cried them down, saying that they were
+responsible for the misery and terror that lay over the world.
+
+With an absolute lack of logic, the churches were crowded again. The
+most irreligious cried for the good old times. Those who had most
+coarsely exulted over the broken Cross now bewailed it as the most awful
+of calamities.
+
+Christianity was daily being terribly avenged through the pockets and
+stomachs of the crowd!
+
+It was bizarre beyond thinking, sordid in its immensity, vulgar in its
+mighty soulless greed, but TRUE, REAL, a FEARFUL FACT.
+
+A stupendous _confusion_.
+
+Two great currents had met in a maelstrom. The din of the disturbance
+beat upon the world's ear with sickening clamour.
+
+Louder and louder, day by day.
+
+And the man who had done all this, the brain which had called up these
+legions from hell, which had loosed these fiery sorrows on mankind, was
+in a rich room in a luxurious hotel, alone there. Again the shock and
+marvel took hold of the man and shook him like a reed.
+
+There was a round table, covered with a gleaming white cloth, by the
+fire. The kidneys in the silver dish were cold, the grease had
+congealed. The silent servants had brought up a breakfast to him. He had
+watched their clever, automatic movements. Did they know _whom_ they
+were attending on, what would happen--?
+
+His thoughts flashed hither and thither, now surveying a world in
+torture, now weaving a trivial and whimsical romance about a waiter. The
+frightful activity of his brain, inflamed by thoughts beyond the power
+of even that wonderful machine, began to have a consuming physical
+effect.
+
+He felt the grey matter bubbling. Agonising pains shot from temple to
+temple, little knives seemed hacking at the back of his eyes. Once
+again, in a wave of unutterable terror, the fear of madness submerged
+him.
+
+On this second occasion he was unable to recall his composure by any
+effort which came from within himself. He stumbled into his adjoining
+dressing-room and selected a bottle from a shelf. It was bromide of
+potassium, which he had been taking of late to deaden the clamour and
+vibration of his nerves.
+
+In half an hour the drug had calmed him. His face was very pale, but set
+and rigid. The storm was over. He felt shattered by its violence, but in
+an artificial peace.
+
+He took a cigarette.
+
+As he was lighting it his valet entered and announced that Mr. Dawlish,
+his man of business, was waiting in an anteroom.
+
+He ordered that he should be shown in.
+
+Mr. Dawlish was the junior partner of the well-known firm of city
+solicitors, Burrington & Tuite. That was his official description. In
+effect he was Schuabe's principal man of business. All his time was
+taken up by the millionaire's affairs all over England.
+
+He came in quickly--a tall, well-dressed man, hair thin on the forehead,
+moustache carefully trained.
+
+"You look very unwell, Mr. Schuabe," he said, with a keen glance. "Don't
+let these affairs overwhelm you. Nothing is so dangerous as to let the
+nerves go in times like these."
+
+Schuabe started.
+
+"How are things, Dawlish?" he said.
+
+"Very shaky, very shaky, indeed. The shares of the Budapest Railway are
+to be bought for a shilling. I am afraid your investments in that
+concern are utterly lost. When the Bourses closed last night dealings in
+Foreign Government Stock were at a stand-still. Turkish C and O bonds
+are worthless."
+
+Again the millionaire started. "You bring me a record of disaster," he
+said.
+
+"Baumann went yesterday," continued the level voice.
+
+"My cousin," said Schuabe.
+
+"The worst of it is that the situation is getting worse and worse. We
+have, as you know, made enormous efforts. But all attempts you have made
+to uphold your securities have only been throwing money away. The last
+fortnight has been frightful. More than two hundred thousand pounds have
+gone. In fact, an ordinary man would be ruined by the last month or two.
+Your position is better because of the real property in the Manchester
+mills."
+
+"Trade has almost ceased."
+
+"Close the mills down and wait. You cannot go on."
+
+"If I do, ten thousand men will be let loose on the city with nothing
+but the Union funds to fall back on."
+
+"If you don't, you will be what Baumann is to-day--a bankrupt."
+
+"I have eighty thousand cash on deposit at the Bank of England."
+
+"And if you throw that away after the rest you will be done for. You
+don't realise the situation. It _can't_ recover. War is inevitable.
+India will go, I feel it. England is going to turn into a camp. Religion
+is the pretext of war everywhere. Take your money from the Bank in cash
+and lock it up in the Safe Deposit strong rooms. Keep that sum, earning
+nothing, for emergencies, then wait for the other properties to recover.
+It will be years perhaps, but you will win through in the end. The
+freehold sites of the mills are alone worth almost anything. It is only
+_paper_ millionaires that are easily ruined. You are a great property
+owner. But you must walk very warily, even you. Who could have foreseen
+all this? I see that fellow Hands is dead--couldn't stand the sight of
+the mischief he'd done, I suppose. The fool! the eternal fool! why
+couldn't he have kept his sham discovery to himself? Look at the
+unutterable misery it has brought on the world."
+
+"You yourself, Dawlish, are you suffering the common fate?"
+
+"I? Certainly not! That is to say, I suffer of course, but not fatally.
+All my investments are in buildings in safe quarters. I may have to
+reduce rents for a year or two, but my houses will not be empty. And
+they are my own."
+
+"Fortunate man," said Schuabe; "but why _sham_ discovery?"
+
+"Out of business hours," said the solicitor, with some stiffness and
+hesitation, "I am a Roman Catholic, Mr. Schuabe. Good-morning. I will
+send the transfer round for you to sign."
+
+The cool, machine-like man went away. The millionaire knew that his
+fortune was tottering, but it moved him little. He knew that his power
+in the country was nearly over, had dwindled to nothing in the stir of
+greater things around. Money was only useful as a means of power, and
+with a sure prescience he saw that he would never regain his old
+position.
+
+The hour was over.
+
+Whatever would be the outcome of these great affairs, the hour was past
+and over.
+
+The one glowing thought which burned within him, and seemed to be eating
+out his life, was the awful knowledge that he and no other man had set
+in motion this terrible machinery which was grinding up the civilised
+world.
+
+Day and night from that there was no relief.
+
+His valet again entered and reminded his master that some people were
+coming to lunch. He went away and began to dress with the man's help.
+
+The guests were only two in number. One was Ommaney, the editor of the
+_Daily Wire_, the other Mrs. Hubert Armstrong.
+
+Both the lady and gentleman came in together at about two o'clock.
+
+Mrs. Armstrong was much changed in appearance. Her face had lost its
+serenity; her manner was quick and anxious; her voice strained.
+
+The slim, quiet editor, on the other hand, seemed to be untouched by
+worry. Quiet and inscrutable as ever, the only change in him, perhaps,
+was a slight briskness, an aroma rather than an actual expression of
+good humour and _bien-�tre_.
+
+They sat down to the meal. Schuabe, in his dark grey frock-coat, the
+careful _ensemble_ of his dress no less than the regular beauty of his
+face--now smooth and calm--seemed to be beyond all mundane cares. Only
+the lady was ill at ease.
+
+The conversation at first was all of the actual news of the day, as it
+had appeared in the morning's newspapers. Hands's death was discussed.
+"Poor fellow!" said Mrs. Armstrong, with a sigh; "it is sad to think of
+his sudden ending. The burden was too much for him to bear. I can
+understand it when I look round upon all that is happening; it is
+terrible!"
+
+"Surely you do not regret the discovery of the truth?" said Schuabe,
+quickly.
+
+"I am beginning to fear truth," said the lady. "The world, it seems, was
+not ripe for it. In a hundred years, perhaps, our work would have paved
+the way. But it is premature. Look at the chaos all around us. The
+public has ceased to think or read. They are reading nothing. Three
+publishers have put up the shutters during the week."
+
+The journalist interrupted with a dry chuckle. "They are reading the
+_Daily Wire_," he said; "the circulation is almost doubled." He sent a
+congratulatory glance to Schuabe.
+
+The millionaire's great holding in the paper was a secret known only to
+a few. In the stress of greater affairs he had half forgotten it. A
+swift feeling of relief crossed his brain as he realised what this meant
+to his tottering fortunes.
+
+"Poor Hands!" said the editor, "he was a nice fellow. Rather unpractical
+and dreamy, but a nice fellow. Owing to him we had the greatest chance
+that any paper has ever had in the history of journalism. We owe him a
+great debt. The present popularity and influence of the paper has
+dwarfed, positively dwarfed, all its rivals. I have given the poor
+fellow three columns to-day; I wish I could do more."
+
+"Do you not think, Mr. Ommaney," asked Mrs. Armstrong, "that in the
+enormous publication of telegrams and political foreign news, the
+glorious fact that the world has at last awakened to a knowledge of the
+glorious truths of real religion is being swamped and forgotten? After
+all, what will be the greatest thing in history a hundred years from
+now? Will it not be the death of the old superstitions rather than a
+mutiny in the East or a war with Russia? Will not the names of the
+pioneers of truth remain more firmly fixed in the minds of mankind than
+those of generals and chancellors?"
+
+The editor made it quite plain that these were speculations with which
+he had nothing whatever to do.
+
+"It's dead, Mrs. Armstrong," he said brutally. "The religious aspect is
+utterly dead, and wouldn't sell an extra copy of the paper. It would be
+madness to touch it now. The public gaze is fixed on Kabul River and
+St. Petersburg, Belgrade and Constantinople. They have almost forgotten
+that Jerusalem exists. I sent out twelve special correspondents ten days
+ago."
+
+Mrs. Armstrong sighed deeply. It was true, bitterly true. She was no
+longer of any importance in the public eye. No one asked her to lecture
+now. The mass meetings were all over. Not a single copy of _John
+Mulgrave_ had been sold for a month. How differently she had pictured it
+all on that winter's morning at Sir Michael's; how brightly and
+gloriously it had begun, and now how bitter the _d�nouement_, how
+utterly beyond foresight? What was this superstition, this Christianity
+which in its death struggles could overthrow a world?
+
+"_The decisive events of the world occur in the intellect._" Yes, but
+how soon do they leave their parent and outstrip its poor control?
+
+There was no need for women _now_. That was the bitterest thought of
+all. The movement was over--done with. A private in the Guards was a
+greater hero than the leader of an intellectual movement. What a
+monstrous _bouleversement_ of everything!
+
+Again the lady sighed deeply.
+
+"No," she said again, "the world was not yet strong enough to bear the
+truth. I have sold my Consols," she continued; "I have been advised to
+do so. I was investing for my daughter when I am gone. Newspaper shares
+are the things to buy now, I suppose! My brokers told me that I was
+doing the wisest thing. They said that they could not recover for
+years."
+
+"The money market is a thing in which I have very little concern except
+inasmuch as it affects large public issues," said the editor. "I leave
+it all to my city editor and his staff--men in whom I have the greatest
+possible trust. But I heard a curious piece of news last night. I don't
+know what it portends; perhaps Mr. Schuabe can tell me; he knows all
+about these things. Sir Michael Manichoe, the head of the Church
+political party, you know has been buying Consols enormously. Keith, my
+city editor, told me. He has, so it appears, invested enormous sums.
+Consols will go up in consequence. But even then I don't see how he can
+repay himself. They cannot rise much."
+
+"I wonder if I was well advised to sell?" said Mrs. Armstrong,
+nervously. "They say Sir Michael never makes a mistake. He must have
+some private information."
+
+"I don't think that is possible, Mrs. Armstrong," Ommaney said. "Of
+course Sir Michael may very likely know something about the situation
+which is not yet public. He may be reckoning on it. But things are in
+such hopeless confusion that no sane speculator would buy for a small
+rise which endured for half a day. He would not be able to unload
+quickly enough. It seems as if Sir Michael is buying for a permanent
+recovery. And I assure you that nothing can bring _that_ about. Only one
+thing at least."
+
+"What is that?" asked both Mrs. Armstrong and Schuabe together.
+
+The editor paused, while a faint smile flickered over his face. "Ah," he
+said, "an impossibility, of course. If any one discovered that 'The
+Discovery' was a fraud--a great forgery, for instance--_then_ we should
+see a universal relief."
+
+"_That_, of course, is asking for an impossibility," said Mrs.
+Armstrong, rather shortly. She resented the somewhat flippant tone of
+the great man.
+
+These things were all her life. To Ommaney they but represented a
+passing panorama in which he took absolutely no _personal_ interest. The
+novelist disliked and feared this detachment. It warred with her strong
+sense of mental duty. The highly trained journalist, to whom all life
+was but news, news, news, was a strange modern product which warred with
+her sense of what was fitting.
+
+"You're not well!" said the editor, suddenly turning to Schuabe, who had
+grown very pale. His voice reassured them.
+
+It was without a trace of weakness.
+
+The "Perfectly, thank you" was deliberate and calm as ever. Ommaney,
+however, noticed that, with a very steady hand, the host poured out
+nearly a tumbler of Burgundy and drank it in one draught.
+
+Schuabe had been taking nothing stronger than water hitherto during the
+progress of the meal.
+
+The man who had been waiting had just left the room for coffee. After
+Ommaney had spoken, there was a slight, almost embarrassed, silence. A
+sudden interruption came from the door of the room.
+
+It opened with a quick push and turn of the handle, quite unlike the
+deliberate movements of any one of the attendants.
+
+Sir Robert Llwellyn strode into the room. It was obvious that he was
+labouring under some almost uncontrollable agitation. The great face,
+usually so jolly and fresh-coloured, was ghastly pale. There was a fixed
+stare of fright in the eyes. He had forgotten to remove his silk hat,
+which was grotesquely tilted on his head, showing the hair matted with
+perspiration.
+
+Ommaney and Mrs. Armstrong sat perfectly still.
+
+They were paralysed with wonder at the sudden apparition of this famous
+person, obviously in such urgent hurry and distress.
+
+Then, with the natural instinct of well-bred people, their heads turned
+away, their eyes fell to their plates, and they began to converse in an
+undertone upon trivial matters.
+
+Schuabe had risen with a quick, snake-like movement, utterly unlike his
+general deliberation. In a moment he had crossed the room and taken
+Llwellyn's arm in a firm grip, looking him steadily in the face with an
+ominous and warning frown.
+
+That clear, sword-like glance seemed to nerve the big man into more
+restraint. A wave of artificial composure passed over him. He removed
+his hat and breathed deeply.
+
+Then he spoke in a voice which trembled somewhat, but which nevertheless
+attained something of control.
+
+"I am really very sorry," he said, with a ghastly attempt at a smile,
+"to have burst in upon you like this. I didn't know you had friends with
+you. Please excuse me. But the truth is--the truth is, that I am in
+rather a hurry to see you. I have an important message for you from--"
+he hesitated a single moment before he found the ready lie--"from Lord
+----. There are--there is something going on at the House of Commons
+which--But I will tell you later on. How do you do, Mrs. Armstrong? How
+are you, Ommaney? Fearfully rushed, of course! We arch�ologists are the
+only people who have leisure nowadays. No, thanks, Schuabe, I lunched
+before I came. Coffee? Oh, yes; excellent!"
+
+His manner was noticeably forced and unnatural in its artificial
+geniality. The man, who had now entered with coffee, brought the tray to
+him, but instead of taking any he half filled an empty cup with K�mmel
+and drank it off.
+
+His hurried explanation hardly deceived the two shrewd people at the
+table, but at least it made it obvious that he wished to be alone with
+their host.
+
+There was a little desultory conversation over the coffee, in which
+Llwellyn took a too easy and hilarious part, and then Mrs. Armstrong got
+up to go.
+
+Ommaney followed her.
+
+Schuabe walked with them a little way down the corridor. While he was
+out of the room, Llwellyn walked unsteadily to a sideboard. With shaking
+hand he mixed himself a large brandy-and-soda. His shaking hands, the
+intense greed with which he swallowed the mixture, were horrible in
+their sensual revelation. The mask of pleasantness had gone; the reserve
+of good manners disappeared.
+
+He stood there naked, as it were--a vast bulk of a man in deadly fear.
+
+Schuabe came back and closed the door silently. He drew Llwellyn to the
+old spot, right in the centre of the great room. There was a wild
+question in his eyes which his lips seemed powerless to utter.
+
+"Gertrude!" gasped the big man. "You know she came back to me. I told
+you at the club that it was all right between us again?"
+
+An immeasurable relief crossed the Jew's face. He pushed his friend away
+with a snarl of concentrated disgust.
+
+"You come here," he hissed venomously, "and burst into my rooms to tell
+me of your petty _amours_. Have I not borne with the story of your lust
+and degradation enough? You come here as if the--." He stopped suddenly.
+The words died away on his lips.
+
+Llwellyn was transformed.
+
+Even in his terror and agitation an ugly sneer blazed out upon his face.
+His nostrils curled with evil laughter. His voice became low and
+threatening. Something subtly _vulgar_ and _common_ stole into it. It
+was this last that arrested Schuabe. It was horrible.
+
+"Not quite so fast, my good friend," said Llwellyn. "Wait and hear my
+story; and, confound you! if you talk to me like that again, I'll kill
+you! Things are equal now, my Jewish partner--equal between us. If I am
+in danger, why, so are you; and either you speak civilly or you pay the
+penalty."
+
+A curious thing happened. The enormous overbearing brutality of the man,
+his _vitality_, seemed to cow and beat down the master mind.
+
+Schuabe, for the moment, was weak in the hands of his inferior. As yet
+he had heard nothing of what the other had come to tell; he was
+conscious only of hands of cold fear knocking at his heart.
+
+He seemed to shrink into himself. For the first and last time in his
+life, the inherited slavishness in his blood asserted itself.
+
+He had never known such degradation before. The beauty of his face went
+out like an extinguished candle. His features grew markedly Semitic; he
+cringed and fawned, as his ancestors had cringed and fawned before fools
+in power hundreds of years back.
+
+This inexpressibly disgusting change in the distinguished man had its
+immediate effect upon his companion. It was new and utterly startling.
+He had come to lean on Schuabe, to place the threads of a dreadful
+dilemma in his hand, to rest upon his master mind.
+
+So, for a second or two, in loathsome pantomime the men bowed and
+salaamed to each other in the centre of the room, not knowing what they
+did.
+
+It was Sir Robert who pulled himself together first. The fear which was
+rushing over him in waves gave him back a semblance of control.
+
+"We must not quarrel now," he said in a swift, eager voice. "Listen to
+me. We are on the brink of terrible things. Gertrude Hunt came back to
+me, as you know. She told me that she was sick to death of her friends
+the priests, that the old life called her, that she could not live
+apart from me. She mocked at her sudden conversion. I thought that it
+was real. I laughed and mocked with her. I trusted her as I would trust
+myself."
+
+He paused for a moment, choking down the immense agitation which rose up
+in his throat and half strangled speech.
+
+Schuabe's eyes, attentive and fixed, were still uncomprehending. Still
+the Jew did not see whither Llwellyn was leading--could not understand.
+
+"She's gone!" said the big man, all colour fading absolutely from his
+face. "And, Schuabe, in my mad folly and infatuation, in my incredible
+foolishness ... _I told her everything_."
+
+A sudden sharp animal moan burst from Schuabe's lips--clear, vibrant,
+and bestial in the silence.
+
+His rigidity changed into an extraordinary trembling. It was a temporary
+palsy which set every separate limb trembling with an independent
+motion. He waited thus, with an ashen face, to hear more.
+
+Llwellyn, when the irremediable fact had passed his lips, when the
+enormous difficulty of confession was surmounted, proceeded with slight
+relief:
+
+"This might, you will think, be just possibly without significance for
+us. It might be a coincidence. _But it is not so, Schuabe._ I know now,
+as certainly as I can know anything, that she came to me, was sent to
+me, by the people who have got hold of her. _There has been suspicion
+for some time_, there must have been. We have been ruined by this woman
+I trusted."
+
+"But why ... how?"
+
+"Because, Schuabe, as I was walking down Chancery Lane not an hour since
+I saw Gertrude come out of Lincoln's Inn with the clergyman Gortre. They
+got into a cab together and drove away. And more: I learn from Lambert,
+my assistant at the Museum, that Harold Spence, the journalist, who is a
+member of his club and a friend of his, _left for Palestine several
+days ago_."
+
+"I have just heard," whispered Schuabe, "that Sir Michael Manichoe has
+been buying large parcels of Consols."
+
+"The thing is over. We must----"
+
+"Hush!" said the Jew, menacingly. "All is not lost yet. Perhaps, the
+strong probability is, that only this Gortre knows yet. Even if anything
+is known to others, it is only vague, and cannot be substantiated until
+the man in Palestine gets a letter. Without this woman and Gortre we are
+safe."
+
+The Professor looked at him and understood. Nor was there any terror in
+his face, only a faint film of relief.
+
+Five minutes afterwards the two distinguished men, talking easily
+together, walked through the vestibule of the hotel, down the great
+courtyard and into the roaring Strand.
+
+A hotel clerk explained the celebrities to a voluble group of American
+tourists as they went by.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+BY THE TOWER OF HIPPICUS
+
+
+Harold Spence was essentially a man of action. His mental and moral
+health depended for its continuance upon the active prosecution of
+affairs more than most men's.
+
+A product of the day, "modern" in his culture, modern in his ideals, he
+must live the vivid, eager, strenuous life of his times or the fibres of
+his brain became slack and loosened.
+
+In the absorbing interest of his first mission to the East Spence had
+found work which exactly suited his temperament. It was work which keyed
+him up to his best and most successful efforts.
+
+But when that was over, when the news that he had given brilliantly to
+the world became the world's and was no longer his, then the reaction
+set in.
+
+The whole man became relaxed and unstrung; he was drifting into a sloth
+of the mind and body when Gortre had arrived from the North with his
+message of Hope.
+
+The renewed opportunity of action, the tonic to his weak and waning
+faith--that faith which alone was able to keep him clean and
+worthy--again strung up the chords of his manhood till they vibrated in
+harmony.
+
+Once more Spence was in the Holy City.
+
+But a short time ago he was at Jerusalem as the collective eye of
+millions of Englishmen, the telegraph wires stretched out behind him to
+London.
+
+Now he was, to all official intents, a private person, yet, as the
+steamer cast anchor in the roadstead of Jaffa, he had realised that a
+more tremendous responsibility than ever before rested with him.
+
+The last words spoken to Spence in England had been those of Sir Michael
+Manichoe. The great man was bidding him good-bye at Charing Cross.
+
+"Remember," he had said, "that whatever proof or help we may get from
+this woman, Gertrude Hunt, will be but the basis for you to work on in
+the East. We shall cable every result of our investigations here.
+Remember that, as we think, you have immense ability and resource
+against you. Go very warily. As I have said before, _no_ sum is too
+great to sacrifice, no sacrifice too great to make."
+
+There had been a day's delay at Jaffa. It had been a day of strange,
+bewildering thoughts to the journalist.
+
+The "Gate of the Holy Land" is not, as many people suppose, a fine
+harbour, a thronged port.
+
+The navies of the ancient world which congregated there were smaller
+than even the coasting steamers of to-day. They found shelter in a
+narrow space of more or less untroubled water between the shelving rock
+of the long, flat shore and a low reef rising out of the sea parallel to
+the town. The vessels with timber for Solomon's Temple tossed almost
+unsheltered before the terraces of ochre-coloured Oriental houses.
+
+For several hours it had been too rough for the passengers on the French
+boat to land. More than a mile of restless bottle-green sea separated
+them from the rude ladders fastened to the wave-washed quay.
+
+There had been one of the heavy rain-storms which at that season of the
+year visit Palestine. Over the Moslem minarets of the town the purple
+tops of the central mountains of Judah and Ephraim showed clear and far
+away.
+
+The time of waiting gave Spence an opportunity for collecting and
+ordering his thoughts, for summing up the situation and trying to get at
+the very heart of its meaning.
+
+The messagery steamer was the only one in the roads. Two coasting craft
+with rags of light brown sails were beating over the swell into the
+Mediterranean.
+
+The sky was cloudy, the air still and warm. Only the sea was turbulent
+and uneasy, the steamer rolled with a sickening, regular movement, and
+the anchor chains beat and rattled with the precision of a pendulum.
+
+Spence sat on the india-rubber treads of the steps leading up to the
+bridge, with an arm crooked round a white-painted stanchion supporting
+the hand-rail. A few yards away two lascars were working a chain and
+pulley, drawing up zinc boxes of ashes from the stoke-hold and tipping
+them into the sea. As the clinkers fell into the water a little cloud of
+steam rose from them.
+
+There were but few passengers on the ship, which wore a somewhat
+neglected, "off-duty" aspect. No longer were the cabins filled with
+drilled bands of tourists with their loud-voiced lecturing cleric in
+charge. Not now was there the accustomed rush to the main deck, the
+pious ejaculations at the first sight of Palestine, the electric
+knocking at the hearts even of the least devout.
+
+Nobody came to Jerusalem now from England. From Beyrout to Jaffa the
+maritime plain was silent and deserted, and no tourists plucked the
+roses of Sharon any more.
+
+A German commercial traveller, with cases of cutlery, from Essen, was
+arguing with the little Greek steward about his wine bill; a
+professional photographer from Alexandria, travelling with his cameras
+for a New York firm of art publishers; two Turkish officers smoking
+cigarettes; a Russian gentleman with two young sons; a fat man in
+flannels and with an unshaven chin, very much at home; an orange buyer
+from a warehouse by the Tower Bridge--these were the undistinguished
+companions of the journalist.
+
+The steward clapped his hands; _d�jeuner_ was ready. The passengers
+tumbled down to the saloon. Spence declined the loud-voiced Cockney
+invitation of the fruit merchant and remained where he was, gazing with
+unseeing eyes at the low Eastern town, which rose and fell before him as
+the ship rolled lazily from side to side.
+
+There was something immensely, tremendously incongruous in his position.
+It was without precedent. He had come, in the first place, as a sort of
+private inquiry agent. He was a detective charged by a group of three or
+four people, a clergyman or two, a wealthy Member of Parliament, to find
+out the year-old movements--if, indeed, movements there had been!--of a
+distinguished European professor. He was to pry, to question, to
+deceive. This much in itself was utterly astonishing, strangely
+difficult of realisation.
+
+But how much more there was to stir and confuse his brain!
+
+He was coming back alone to Jerusalem. But a short time ago he had seen
+the great _savants_ of Europe--only thirty miles beyond this Eastern
+town--reluctantly pronounce the words which meant the downfall of the
+Christian Faith.
+
+The gunboat which had brought them all was anchored in this very spot. A
+Turkish guard had been waiting yonder on the quay, they had gone along
+the new road to Jerusalem in open carriages,--through the orange
+groves,--riding to make history.
+
+And now he was here once more.
+
+While he sat on this dingy steamer in this remote corner of the
+Mediterranean, it was no exaggeration to say that the whole world was in
+a state of cataclysm such as it had hardly, at least not often, known
+before.
+
+It was his business to watch events, to forecast whither they would
+lead. He was a Simon Magus of the modern world, with an electric wire
+and stylographic pen to prophesy with. He of all men could see and
+realise what was happening all over the globe. He was more alarmed than
+even the man in the street. This much was certain.
+
+And a day's easy ride away lay the little town which held the acre of
+rocky ground from which all these horrors, this imminent upheaval, had
+come.
+
+Again it seemed beyond the power of his brain to seize it all, to
+contain the vastness of his thoughts.
+
+These facts, which all the world knew, were almost too stupendous for
+belief. But when he dwelt upon the _personal_ aspect of them he was as a
+traveller whose way is irrevocably barred by sheer precipice.
+
+At the very first _he_ had been one mouthpiece of the news. For some
+hours the packet containing it had hung in the dressing-room of a London
+Turkish bath.
+
+His act had recoiled upon himself, for when Gortre found him in the
+chambers he was spiritually dying.
+
+Could this suspicion of Schuabe and Llwellyn possibly be true? It had
+seemed both plausible and probable in Sir Michael's study in London. But
+out here in the Jaffa roadstead, when he realised--or tried to
+realise--that on him might depend the salvation of the world.... He
+laughed aloud at that monstrous grandiloquent phrase. He was in the
+nineteenth century, not the tenth.
+
+He doubted more and more. Had it been any one else it might have been
+possible to believe. But he could not see himself in this stupendous
+_r�le_.
+
+The mental processes became insupportable; he dismissed thought with a
+great effort of will and got up from his seat.
+
+At least there was some _action_, something definite to do waiting for
+him. Speculation only blurred everything. He would be true to the trust
+his friends in England reposed in him and leave the rest to happen as it
+was fated.
+
+There was a relief in that attitude--the Arab attitude. _Kismet!_
+
+Griggs, the fruit merchant, came up from the saloon wiping his lips.
+
+"Bit orf," he said, "waiting like this. But the sea will go down soon.
+Last spring I had to go on to Beyrout, the weather was that rough. Ever
+tried that Vin de Rishon le Zion? It's a treat. Made from Bordeaux vines
+transplanted to Palestine--you'll pass the fields on the way up--just
+had a half bottle. Hallo!--look, there's the boat at last--old Francis
+Karane's boat. Must go and look after my traps."
+
+A long boat was creeping out from behind the reef. Spence went to his
+cabin to see after his light kit. It was better to move and work than to
+think.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was early morning, the morning after Spence's arrival in Jerusalem.
+He slept well and soundly in his hotel room, tired by the long ride--for
+he had come on horseback over the moonlit slopes of Ajalon.
+
+When at length he awoke it was with a sensation of mental and bodily
+vigour, a quickening of all his pulses in hope and expectation, which
+was in fine contrast to the doubts and hesitations of the Jaffa roads.
+
+A bright sun poured into the room.
+
+He got up and went to the window. There was a deep, unspoken prayer in
+his heart.
+
+The hotel was in Akra, the European and Christian quarter of Jerusalem,
+close by the Jaffa Gate, with the Tower of Hippicus frowning down upon
+it.
+
+The whole extent of the city lay beneath the windows in a glorious
+panorama, washed as it was in the brilliant morning light. Far beyond, a
+dark shadow yet, the Olivet range rose in background to the minarets and
+cupolas below it.
+
+His eye roved over the prospect, marking and recognising the buildings.
+
+There was the purple dome of the great Mosque of Omar, very clear
+against the amber-primrose lights of dawn.
+
+Where now the muezzin called to Allah, the burnt-offerings had once
+smoked in the courts of the Temple--it was in that spot the mysterious
+veil had parted in symbol of God's pain and death. It was in the porches
+bounding the court of the Gentiles that Christ had taught.
+
+Closer, below the Antonia Tower, rose the dark, lead-covered cupola of
+the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
+
+Great emotion came to him as he gazed at the shrine sacred above all
+others for so many centuries.
+
+He thought of that holy spot diminished in its ancient glory in the eyes
+of half the Christian world.
+
+Perhaps no more would the Holy Fire burst forth from the yellow, aged
+marble of the Tomb at Easter time.
+
+Who could say?
+
+Was not he, Harold Spence, there to try that awful issue?
+
+He wondered, as he gazed, if another Easter would still see the wild
+messengers bursting away to Nazareth and Bethlehem bearing The Holy
+Flame.
+
+The sun became suddenly more powerful. It threw a warmer light into the
+grey dome, and, deep down, the cold, dark waters of Hezekiah's Pool
+became bright and golden.
+
+The sacred places focussed the light and sprang into a new life.
+
+He made the sign of the Cross, wondering fancifully if this were an
+omen.
+
+Then with a shudder he looked to the left towards the ogre-grey Turkish
+battlements of the Damascus Gate.
+
+It was there, over by the Temple Quarries of Bezetha, the New Tomb of
+Joseph lay.
+
+Yes! straight away to the north lay the rock-hewn sepulchre where the
+great doctors had sorrowfully pronounced the end of so many Christian
+hopes.
+
+How difficult to believe that so short a distance away lay the centre of
+the world's trouble! Surely he could actually distinguish the
+guard-house in the wall which had been built round the spot.
+
+Over the sad Oriental city--for Jerusalem is always sad, as if the
+ancient stones were still conscious of Christ's passion--he gazed
+towards the terrible place, wondering, hoping, fearing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was very difficult to know how to begin upon this extraordinary
+affair.
+
+When he had made the first meal of the day and was confronted with the
+business, with the actual fact of what he had to do, he was aghast at
+what seemed his own powerlessness.
+
+He had no plan of action, no method. For an hour he felt absolutely
+hopeless.
+
+Sir Robert Llwellyn, so his friends believed, had been in Jerusalem
+prior to the discovery of the New Tomb.
+
+The first duty of the investigator was to find out whether that was
+true.
+
+How was he to do it?
+
+In his irresolution he decided to go out into the city. He would call
+upon various people he knew, friends of Cyril Hands, and trust to events
+for guiding his further movements.
+
+The rooms where Hands had always stayed were close to the schools of the
+Church Missionary Society; he would go there. Down in the M�ristan area
+he could also chat with the doctor at the English Ophthalmic Hospice; he
+would call on his way to the New Tomb.
+
+It was at The Tomb that he might learn something, perhaps, yet how
+nebulous it all was, how unsatisfying!
+
+He set out, down the roughly paved streets, through the arched and
+shaded bazaars--places less full of colour and more sombre than the
+markets of other Oriental cities--to the heart of the city, where the
+streets were bounded by the vision of the distant hills of Olivet.
+
+The religious riots and unrest were long since over. The pilgrims to the
+Church of the Holy Sepulchre were less in number, but were mostly
+Russians of the Greek Church, who still accepted the Church of the Holy
+Sepulchre as the true goal of their desires.
+
+The Greeks and Armenians hated each other no more than usual. The Turks
+were held in good control by a strong governor of Jerusalem. Nor was
+this a time of special festival. The city, never quite at rest, was
+still in its normal condition.
+
+The Bedouin women with their unveiled faces, tattooed in blue, strode to
+the bazaars with the butter they had brought in from their desert herds.
+They wore gaudy head-dresses and high red boots, and they jostled the
+"pale townsmen" as they passed them; free, untamed creatures of the sun
+and air.
+
+As Spence passed by the courtyard of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre a
+crowd of Fellah boys ran up to him with candles ornamented with scenes
+from the Passion, pressing him to buy.
+
+The sun grew hotter as he walked, though the purple shadows of the
+narrow streets were cool enough. As he left the European heights of Akra
+and dived deep into the eastern central city, the well-remembered scenes
+and smells rose up like a wall before him and the rest of life.
+
+He began to walk more slowly, in harmony with the slow-moving forms
+around. He had been to Omdurman with the avenging army, knew
+Constantinople during the Greek war--the East had meaning for him.
+
+And as the veritable East closed round him his doubts and self-ridicule
+vanished. His strange mission seemed possible here.
+
+As he was passing one of the vast ruined structures once belonging to
+the medi�val knights of St. John, thinking, indeed, that he himself was
+a veritable Crusader, a thin, importunate voice came to him from an
+angle of the stone-work.
+
+He looked down and saw an old Nuri� woman sitting there. She belonged to
+the "Nowar," the unclean pariah class of Palestine, who are said to
+practise magic arts. A gipsy of the Sussex Downs would be her sister in
+England.
+
+The woman was tattooed from head to foot. She wore a blue turban, and
+from squares and angles drawn in the dust before her, Spence knew her
+for a professional geomancer or fortune-teller.
+
+He threw her a coin in idle speculation and asked her "his lot" for the
+immediate future.
+
+The woman had a few shells of different shapes in a heap by her side,
+and she threw them into the figures on the ground.
+
+Then, picking them up, she said, in bastard Arabic interspersed with a
+hard "K"-like sound, which marks the nomad in Palestine, "Effendi, you
+have a sorrow and bewilderment just past you, and, like a black star, it
+has fixed itself on your forehead. A letter is coming to you from over
+the seas telling you of work to do. And then you will leave this country
+and cross home in a steamer, with a story to tell many people."
+
+Spence smiled at the glib prophecy. Certainly it might very well outline
+his future course of action, but it was no more than a shrewd and
+obvious guess.
+
+He was turning to go away when the woman opened her clothes in front,
+showing the upper part of her body literally covered with tattoo marks,
+and drew out a small bag.
+
+"Stay, my lord," she said. "I can tell you much more if you will hear. I
+have here a very precious stone rubbed with oil, which I brought from
+Mecca. Now, if you will hold this stone in your hand and give me the
+price you shall hear what will come to you, O camel of the house!"
+
+The curious sensation of "expectation" that had been coming over Spence,
+the fatalistic waiting for chance to guide him which, in this wild and
+dream-like business, had begun to take hold of him, made him give the
+hag what she asked.
+
+There was something in clairvoyance perhaps; at any rate he would hear
+what the Nuri� woman had to say.
+
+She took a dark and greasy pebble from the bag and put it in his hand,
+gazing at his fingers for a minute or two in a fixed stare without
+speaking.
+
+When at last she broke the silence Spence noticed that something had
+gone out of her voice. The medicant whine, the ingratiating invitation
+had ceased.
+
+Her tones were impersonal, thinner, a _recitative_.
+
+"Ere sundown my lord will hear that a friend has died and his spirit is
+in the well of souls."
+
+"Tell me of this friend, O my aunt!" Spence said in colloquial Arabic.
+
+"Thy friend is a Frank, but more than a Frank, for he is one knowing
+much of this country, and has walked the stones of Jerusalem for many
+years. Thou wilt hear of his death from the lips of one who will tell
+thee of another thou seekest, and know not that it is he.... Give me
+back the stone, lord, and go thy way," she broke off suddenly, with
+seeming sincerity. "I will tell thee no more, for great business is in
+thy hands and thou art no ordinary wayfarer. Why didst thou hide it from
+me, Effendi?"
+
+Drawing her blue head-dress over her face, the woman refused to speak
+another word.
+
+Spence passed on, wondering. He knew, as all travellers who are not
+merely tourists know, that no one has ever been quite able to sift the
+fraud and trickery from the strange power possessed by those Eastern
+geomancers. It is an undecided question still, but only the shallow dare
+to say that _all_ is imposture.[2]
+
+And even the London journalist could not be purely materialistic in
+Jerusalem, the City of Sorrows.
+
+He went on towards his destination. Not far from the missionary
+establishment was a building which was the headquarters of the Palestine
+Exploring Society in Jerusalem.
+
+Cyril Hands had always lived up in Akra among the Europeans, but much of
+his time was necessarily spent in the M�ristan district.
+
+The building was known as the "Research Museum."
+
+Hands and his assistants had gathered a valuable collection of ancient
+curiosities.
+
+Here were hundreds of drawings and photographs of various excavations.
+Accurate measurements of tombs, buried houses, ancient churches were
+entered in great books.
+
+In glass cases were fragments of ancient pottery, old Hebrew seals,
+scarabs, antique fragments of jewellery--all the varied objects from
+which high scholarship and expert training was gradually, year by year,
+providing a luminous and entirely fresh commentary on Holy Writ.
+
+Here, in short, were the tools of what is known as the "Higher
+Criticism."
+
+Attached to the museum was a library and drawing office, a photographic
+dark room, apartments for the curator and his wife. A man who engaged
+the native labour required for the excavations superintended the work of
+the men and acted as general agent and intermediary between the European
+officials and all Easterns with whom they came in contact.
+
+This man was well known in the city--a character in his way. In the
+reports of the Exploring Society he was often referred to as an
+invaluable assistant. But a year ago his portrait had been published in
+the annual statement of the fund, and the face of the Greek Ionides in
+his turban lay upon the study tables of many a quiet English vicarage.
+
+Spence entered the courtyard of the building. It was quiet and deserted;
+some pigeons were feeding there.
+
+He turned under a stone archway to the right, pushed open a door, and
+entered the museum.
+
+There was a babel of voices.
+
+A small group of people stood by a wooden pedestal in the centre of the
+room, which supported the famous cruciform font found at B��r Es-seb'a.
+
+They turned at Spence's entrance. He saw some familiar faces of people
+with whom he had been brought in contact during the time of the first
+discovery.
+
+Two English missionaries, one in orders, the English Consul, and
+Professor Theodore Adams, the American arch�ologist, who lived all the
+year round in the new western suburb, stood speaking in grave tones and
+with distressed faces--so it seemed to the intruder.
+
+An Egyptian servant, dressed in white linen, carrying a bunch of keys,
+was with them.
+
+In his hand the Consul held a roll of yellow native wax.
+
+An enormous surprise shone out on the faces of these people as Spence
+walked up to him.
+
+"Mr. Spence!" said the Consul, "we never expected you or heard of your
+coming. This is most fortunate, however. You were his great friend. I
+think you both shared chambers together in London?"
+
+Spence looked at him in wonder, mechanically shaking the proffered hand.
+
+"I don't think I quite understand," he said. "I came here quite by
+chance, just to see if there was any one that I knew about."
+
+"Then you have not heard--" said the clergyman.
+
+"I have heard nothing."
+
+"Your friend, our distinguished fellow-worker, Professor Hands, is no
+more. We have just received a cable. Poor, dear Hands died of heart
+disease while taking a seaside holiday."
+
+Spence was genuinely affected.
+
+Hands was an old and dear friend. His sweet, kindly nature, too dreamy
+and retiring perhaps for the rush and hurry of Occidental life, had
+always been wonderfully welcome for a month or two each year in
+Lincoln's Inn. His quaint, learned letters, his enthusiasm for his work
+had become part of the journalist's life. They were recurring pleasures.
+And now he was gone!
+
+Now it was all over. Never more would he hear the quiet voice, hear the
+water-pipe bubble in the quiet old inn as night gave way to dawn....
+
+His brain whirled with the sudden shock. He grew very pale, waiting to
+hear more.
+
+"We know little more," said the Consul, with a sigh. "A cable from the
+central office of the Society has just stated the fact and asked me to
+take official charge of everything here. We were just about to begin
+sealing up the rooms when you came. There are many important documents
+which must be seen to. Mr. Forbes, poor Hands's assistant, is away on
+the shores of the Dead Sea, but we have sent for him by the camel
+garrison post. But it will be some weeks before he can be here,
+probably."
+
+"This is terribly sad news for me," said Spence at length. "We were, of
+course, the dearest friends. The months when Hands was in town were
+always the pleasantest. Of course, lately we did not see so much of each
+other; he had become a public character. He was becoming very depressed
+and unwell, terrified, I almost think, at what was going on in the world
+owing to the discovery he had made, and he was going away to
+recuperate. But I knew nothing of this!"
+
+"I am sorry," said the Consul, "to have to tell you of such a sad
+business, but we naturally thought that somehow you knew--though, of
+course, in point of time that would hardly be possible, or only just
+so."
+
+"I am in the East," said Spence, giving an explanation that he had
+previously prepared if it became necessary to account for his
+presence--"I am here on a mission for my newspaper--to ascertain various
+points about public opinion in view of all these imminent international
+complications."
+
+"Quite so, quite so," said the Consul. "I shall be glad to help you in
+any way I can, of course. But when you came in we were wondering what we
+should do exactly about poor Hands's private effects, papers, and so on.
+When he went on leave all his things were packed in cases and sent down
+here from his rooms in the upper city. I suppose they had better be
+shipped to England. Perhaps you would take charge of them on your
+return?"
+
+"I expect you will hear from his brother, the Rev. John Hands, a
+Leicestershire clergyman, when the mail comes in," said Spence. "This is
+a great blow to me. I should like to pay my poor friend some public
+tribute. I should like to write something for English people to read--a
+sketch of his life and work here in Jerusalem--his daily work among you
+all."
+
+His voice faltered. His eyes had fallen on a photograph which hung upon
+the wall. A group of Arabs sat at the mouth of a rock tomb. In front of
+them, wearing a sun helmet and holding a ten-foot surveyor's wand, stood
+the dead professor. A kindly smile was on his face as he looked down
+upon the white figures of his men.
+
+"It would be a gracious tribute," said one of the missionaries. "Every
+one loved him, whatever their race or creed. We can all tell you of him
+as we saw him in our midst. It is a great pity that old Ionides has
+gone. He was the confidential sharer of all the work here, and Hands
+trusted him implicitly. He could have told you much."
+
+"I remember Ionides well," said Spence. "At the time of the discovery,
+of course, he was very much in evidence, and he was examined by the
+committee. Is the old fellow dead, then?"
+
+"No," answered the missionary. "Some time ago, just after the Commission
+left, in fact, he came into a considerable sum of money. He was getting
+on in years, and he resigned his position here. He has taken an olive
+farm somewhere by Nabul�s, a Turkish city by Mount Gerizim. I fear we
+shall never see him more. He would grieve at this news."
+
+"I think," said Spence, "I will go back to my hotel. I should like to be
+alone to-day. I will call on you this evening, if I may," he added,
+turning to the Consul.
+
+He left the melancholy group, once more beginning their sad business,
+and went out again into the narrow street.
+
+He wanted to be alone, in some quiet place, to pay his departed friend
+the last rites of quiet thought and memory. He would say a prayer for
+him in the cool darkness of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
+
+How did it go?
+
+     "_So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this
+     mortal shall have put on immortality; Then shall be brought to pass
+     the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. O
+     death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?_"
+
+Always all his life long he had thought that these were perhaps the most
+beautiful of written words.
+
+He turned to the right, passed the Turkish guard at the entrance, and
+went down the narrow steps to the "Calvary" chapel.
+
+The gloom and glory of the great church, its rich and sombre light, the
+cool yet heavy air, saddened his soul. He knelt in humble prayer.
+
+When he came out once more into the brilliant sunlight and the noises of
+the city he felt braver and more confident.
+
+He began to turn his thoughts earnestly and resolutely to his mission.
+
+Swiftly, with a quick shock of memory, he remembered his talk with the
+old fortune-teller. It was with an unpleasant sense of chill and shock
+that he remembered her predictions.
+
+Some strange sense of divination had told her of this sad news that
+waited for him. He could not explain or understand it. But there was
+more than this. It might be wild and foolish, but he could not thrust
+the woman's words from his brain.
+
+She knew he was in quest of some one. She said he would be told....
+
+He entered the yellow stone portico of the hotel with a sigh of relief.
+The hall was large, flagged, and cool. A pool of clear water was in the
+centre, glimmering green over its tiles. The eye rested on it with
+pleasure. Spence sank into a deck-chair and clapped his hands. He was
+exhausted, tired, and thirsty.
+
+An Arab boy came in answer to his hand-clapping. He brought an envelope
+on a tray.
+
+It was a cable from England.
+
+Spence went up-stairs to his bedroom. From his kit-bag he drew a small
+volume, bound in thick leather, with a locked clasp.
+
+It was Sir Michael Manichoe's private cable code--a precious volume
+which great commercial houses all over the world would have paid great
+sums to see, which the great man in his anxiety and trust had confided
+to his emissary.
+
+Slowly and laboriously he de-coded the message, a collection of letters
+and figures to be momentous in the history of Christendom.
+
+These were the words:
+
+     "_The woman has discovered everything from Llwellyn. All suspicions
+     confirmed. Conspiracy between Llwellyn and Schuabe. You will find
+     full confirmation from the Greek foreman of Society explorations,
+     Ionides. Get statement of truth by any means, coercion or money to
+     any amount. All is legitimate. Having obtained, hasten home,
+     special steamer if quicker. Can do nothing certain without your
+     evidence. We trust in you. Hasten._
+
+          "MANICHOE."
+
+He trembled with excitement as he relocked the code.
+
+It was a light in a dark place. Ionides! the trusted for many years! The
+eager helper! The traitor bought by Llwellyn!
+
+It was afternoon now. He must go out again. A caravan, camels, guides,
+must be found for a start to-morrow.
+
+It would not be a very difficult journey, but it must be made with
+speed, and it was four days, five days away.
+
+He passed out of the hotel and by the Tower of Hippicus.
+
+A new drinking fountain had been erected there, a domed building, with
+pillars of red stone and a glittering roof, surmounted by a golden
+crescent.
+
+Some camel drivers were drinking there. He was passing by when a tall,
+white-robed figure bowed low before him. A voice, speaking French, bade
+him good-day.
+
+The face of the man seemed familiar. He asked him his name and business.
+
+It was Ibrahim, the Egyptian servant he had seen at the museum in the
+morning.
+
+The rooms had been sealed up, and the man had been to the Consul's
+private house with the keys.
+
+This man had temporarily succeeded the Greek Ionides.
+
+Spence turned back to the hotel and bade Ibrahim follow him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+UNDER THE EASTERN STARS: TOWARDS GERIZIM
+
+
+The night was cold and still, the starlight brilliant in the huge hollow
+sapphire of the sky.
+
+Wrapped in a heavy cloak, Spence sat at the door of one of the two
+little tents which composed his caravan.
+
+Ibrahim the Egyptian, a Roman Catholic, as it seemed, had volunteered to
+act as dragoman. In a few hours this man had got together the necessary
+animals and equipment for the expedition to Nabul�s.
+
+Spence rode a little grey horse of the wiry Moabite breed, Ibrahim a
+Damascus bay. The other men, a cook and two muleteers, all Syrians of
+the Greek Church, rode mules.
+
+The day's march had been long and tiring. Night, with its ineffable
+peace and rest, was very welcome.
+
+On the evening of the morrow they would be on the slopes of Ebal and
+Gerizim, near to the homestead of the man they sought.
+
+All the long day Spence had asked himself what would be the outcome of
+this wild journey. He was full of a grim determination to wring the
+truth from the renegade. In his hip pocket his revolver pressed against
+his thigh. He was strung up for action. Whatever course presented
+itself, that he would take, regardless of any law that there might be
+even in these far-away districts.
+
+His passport was specially endorsed by the Foreign Office; he bore a
+letter, obtained by the Consul, from the Governor of Jerusalem to the
+Turkish officer in command of Nabul�s.
+
+He had little doubt of the ultimate result. Money or force should obtain
+a full confession, and then, a swift rush for London with the charter of
+salvation--for it would be little less than that--and the engine of
+destruction for the two terrible criminals at home.
+
+As they marched over the plains the red anemone and blue iris had peeped
+from the herbage. The ibex, the roebuck, the wild boar, had fled from
+the advancing caravan.
+
+Eagles and vultures had moved heavily through the sky at vast heights.
+Quails, partridges, and plovers started from beneath the horses' feet.
+
+As the sun plunged away, the owls had begun to mourn in the olive
+groves, the restless chirping of the grasshoppers began to die away, and
+as the stars grew bright, the nightingale--the lonely song-bird of these
+solitudes--poured out his melody to the night.
+
+The camp had been formed under the shade of a clump of terebinth and
+acacias close to a spring of clear water which made the grass around it
+a vivid green, in pleasant contrast to the dry, withered herbage in the
+open.
+
+The men had dug out tree roots for fuel, and a red fire glowed a few
+yards away from Spence's tent.
+
+A group of silent figures sat round the fire. Now and then a low murmur
+of talk sounded for a minute and then died away again. A slight breeze,
+cool and keen, rustled in the trees overhead. Save for that, and the
+occasional movement of one of the hobbled horses, no sound broke the
+stillness of the glorious night.
+
+It was here, so Spence thought, that the Lord must have walked with His
+disciples on the journey between Jerusalem and Nazareth.
+
+On such a night as this the little group may have sat in the vale of El
+Makhna in quiet talk at supper-time.
+
+The same stars looked down on him as they did on those others two
+thousand years ago. How real and true it all seemed here! How much
+_easier_ it was to realise and believe than in Chancery Lane!
+
+Why did men live in cities?
+
+Was it not better far for the soul's health to be here alone with God?
+
+Here, and in such places as these, God spoke clear and loud to the
+hearts of men. He shuddered as the thought of his own lack of faith came
+back to him.
+
+In rapid review he saw the recent time of his hopelessness and shame.
+How utterly he had fallen to pieces! It was difficult to understand the
+pit into which he was falling so easily when Basil had come to him.
+
+Now, the love of God ran in his veins like fire, every sight and sound
+spoke to him of the Christus Consolator.
+
+It was more than mere cold belief, a _love_ or personal devotion to
+Christ welled up in him. The figure of the Man of Sorrows was very near
+him--there was a great fiery cross of stars in the sky above him.
+
+He entered the little tent to pray. He prayed humbly that it might be
+even thus until the end. He prayed that this new and sweet communion
+with his Master might never fade or lessen till the glorious daylight of
+Death dawned and this sojourning far from home was over.
+
+And, in the name of all the unknown millions whom he was come to this
+far land to aid, he prayed for success, for the Truth to be made
+manifest, and for a happy issue out of all these afflictions.
+
+"And this we beg for Jesus Christ, _His_ sake."
+
+Then much refreshed and comforted he emerged once more into the serene
+beauty of the night.
+
+He lit his pipe and sat there, quietly smoking. Presently Ibrahim the
+Egyptian began to croon a low song, one of the Egyptian songs that
+soldiers sing round the camp-fires.
+
+The man had done his term of compulsory service in the past, and perhaps
+this sudden transition from the comfortable quarters in Jerusalem to the
+old life of camp-fire and _plein air_ had its way with him and opened
+the springs of memory.
+
+This is part of what he sang in a thin, sad voice:
+
+    _Born in Galiub, since my birth, many times have I seen the
+         Nile's waters overflow our fields.
+    And I had a neighbour, Sheikh Abdehei, whose daughter's face was
+         known only to me:
+    Nothing could be compared to the beauty and tenderness of Fatm�.
+    Her eyes were as big as coffee cups, and her body was firm with the
+         vigour of youth.
+    We had one heart, and were free from jealousies, ready to be
+         united.
+    But Allah curse the military inspector who bound my two hands,
+    For, together with many more, we were marched off to the camp.
+    I was poor and had to serve, nothing could soften the inspector's
+         heart.
+    The drums and the trumpets daily soon made me forget my cottage and
+         the well-wheel on the Nile._
+
+The long-drawn-out notes vibrated mournfully in the night air.
+
+Sadly the singer put his hand to one side of his head, bending as if he
+were wailing.
+
+The quaint, imaginative song-story throbbed through many phases and
+incidents, and every now and again the motionless figures round the red
+embers wailed in sympathy.
+
+At last came the end, a happy climax, no less loved by these simple
+children of the desert than by the European novel reader.
+
+    _ ... So that I was in the hospital and had become most seriously
+        ill.
+    But swifter than the gazelle, the light of my life came near the
+        hospital.
+    And called in at the window, "Ibrahim! my eye! my heart!"
+    And full of joy I carried her about the camp, and presented her to
+        all my superiors, leaving out none, from the colonel down to the
+        sergeant.
+    I received my dismissal, to return to Galiub and to marry.
+    Old Abdehei was awaiting us, to bless us. God be praised!_
+
+So sang Ibrahim, the converted Christian, the Moslem songs of his youth;
+for here, in El Makhna, the plain of Shechem, there were no missionaries
+with their cold reproof and little hymns in simple couplets.
+
+The fire died away, and they slept until dawn flooded the plain.
+
+When, on the next day, the sun was waning, though still high in the
+western heavens, the travellers came within view of the ancient city of
+Nabul�s.
+
+There was a great tumult of excitement in Spence's pulses as he saw the
+city, radiant in the long afternoon lights, and far away.
+
+Here, in the confines of this distant glittering town, lay the last link
+in the terrible secret which he was to solve.
+
+On either side the purple slopes of the mountains made a mighty frame to
+the terraced houses below. Ebal and Gerizim kept solemn watch and ward
+over the city.
+
+The sun was just sinking as they rode into the suburbs. It was a lovely,
+placid evening.
+
+The abundant cascades of water, which flow from great fissures in the
+mountain and make this Turkish town the jewel of the East, glittered in
+the light.
+
+Below them the broad, still reservoirs lay like plates of gold.
+
+They rode through luxuriant groves of olives, figs, and vines,
+wonderfully grateful and refreshing to the eye after the burnt brown
+herbage of the plain, towards the regular camping-ground where all
+travellers lay.
+
+In the cool of the evening Spence and Ibrahim rode through the teeming
+streets to the Governor's house.
+
+It was a city of fanatics, so the Englishman had heard, and during the
+great Moslem festivals the members of the various, and rather extensive,
+missionary establishments were in constant danger. But as the two men
+rode among the wild armed men who sat in the bazaars or pushed along the
+narrow streets they were not in any way molested.
+
+After a ceremonious introduction and the delivery of the letter from the
+Governor of Jerusalem, Spence made known his business over the coffee
+and cigarettes which were brought immediately on his arrival.
+
+The Governor was a placid, pleasant-mannered man, very ready to give his
+visitor any help he could.
+
+It was represented to him that the man Ionides, who had but lately
+settled in the suburbs, was in the possession of some important secrets
+affecting the welfare of many wealthy residents in Jerusalem. These, it
+was hinted, were of a private nature, but in all probability great
+pressure would have to be put upon the Greek in order to receive any
+satisfactory confession.
+
+The conversation, which was carried on in French, ended in an eminently
+satisfactory way.
+
+"Monsieur will understand," said the Governor, "that I make no inquiry
+into the nature of the information monsieur wishes to obtain. I may or
+may not have my ideas upon that subject. The Greek was, I understand,
+intimately connected with the recent discoveries in Jerusalem. Let that
+pass. It is none of my business. Here I am a good Moslem, Allah be
+praised! it is a necessity of my official position."
+
+He laughed cynically, clapped his hands for a new brass vessel of
+creaming coffee and continued:
+
+"A political necessity, Monsieur, as a man of the world, will quite
+understand me. I have been in London, at the Embassy, and I myself am
+free from foolish prejudices. I am not Moslem in heart nor am I
+Christian--some coffee, Monsieur?--yes! Monsieur also is a man of the
+world!"
+
+Spence, sitting cross-legged opposite his host, had smiled an answering
+cynical smile at these words. He shrugged his shoulders and threw out
+his hands. Everything depended upon making a good impression upon this
+local autocrat.
+
+"Eh bien, monsieur avait raison-m�me--that, I repeat, is not my affair.
+But this letter from my brother of Jerusalem makes me of anxiety to
+serve your interests. And, moreover, the man is a Greek, of no great
+importance--we are not fond of the Greeks, we Turks! Now it is most
+probable that the man will not speak without persuasion. Moreover, that
+persuasion were better officially applied. To assist monsieur, I shall
+send Tewfik Pasha, my nephew, and captain commandant of the northern
+fort, with half a dozen men. If this dog will not talk they will know
+how to make him. I suppose you have no scruples as to any means they may
+employ? There are foolish prejudices among the Western people."
+
+Spence took his decision very quickly. He was a man who had been on many
+battle-fields, knew the grimness of life in many lands. If torture were
+necessary, then it must be so. The man deserved it, the end was great if
+the means were evil. It must be remembered that Spence was a man to
+whom the very loftiest and highest Christian ideals had not yet been
+made manifest. There are degrees in the struggle for saintliness; the
+journalist was but a postulant.
+
+He saw these questions of conduct roughly, crudely. His conscience
+animated his deeds, but it was a conscience as yet ungrown. And indeed
+there are many instruments in an orchestra, all tuneful perhaps to the
+conductor's beat, which they obey and understand, yet not all of equal
+eminence or beauty in the great scheme of the concert.
+
+The violin soars into great mysteries of emotion, calling high "in the
+deep-domed empyrean." The flutes whisper a chorus to the great story of
+their comrade. Yet, though the plangent sounding of the kettle-drums,
+the single beat of the barbaric cymbals are in one note and unfrequent,
+yet these minor messages go to swell the great tone-symphony and make it
+perfect in the serene beauty of something _directed and ordained_.
+
+"Sir," said the journalist, "the man must be made to speak. The methods
+are indifferent to me."
+
+"Oh, that can be done; we have a way," said the Governor.
+
+He shifted a little among his cushions. A certain dryness came into his
+voice as he resumed:
+
+"Monsieur, however, as a man of the world, will understand, no doubt,
+that when a private individual finds it necessary to invoke the powers
+of law it is a vast undertaking to move so ponderous a machine?... also
+it is a privilege? It is not, of course, a personal matter--_�a m'est
+�gal_. But there are certain unavoidable and indeed quite necessary
+expenses which must be satisfied."
+
+Spence well understood the polite humbug of all this. He knew that in
+the East one buys justice--or injustice--as one can afford it. As the
+correspondent of that great paper over which Ommaney presided, he had
+always been able to spend money like water when it had been necessary.
+He had those powers now. There was nothing unusual to him in the
+situation, nor did he hesitate.
+
+"Your Excellency," he said, "speaks with great truth upon these points.
+It is ever from a man of your Excellency's penetration that one hears
+those dicta which govern affairs. I have a certain object in view, and I
+realise that to obtain it there are certain necessary formalities to be
+gone through. I have with me letters of credit upon the bank of Lelain
+Delaunay et Cie., of Jaffa, Jerusalem, and Athens."
+
+"A sound, estimable house," said the Governor, with a very pleased
+smile.
+
+"It but then remains," said Spence, "to confer with the secretary of
+your Excellency as to the sum which is necessary to pay for the legal
+expenses of the inquiry."
+
+"You speak most sensibly," said the Turk. "In the morning I will send
+the captain commandant and the soldiers to the encampment. My secretary
+shall accompany them. Then, Monsieur, when the little preliminaries are
+arranged, you will be free to start for the farm of this dog Ionides. It
+is not more than four miles from your camp, and my nephew will guide you
+there. May Allah prosper your undertaking."
+
+"--And have you in His care," replied Spence. "I will now have the
+honour to wish your Excellency undisturbed rest."
+
+He rose and bowed. The Turkish gentleman rose also and shook hands in
+genial European fashion.
+
+"Monsieur," he said, with an expansive smile, "Monsieur is without doubt
+a thorough man of the world."
+
+That night, in the suburbs of the city, sweet and fragrant as the olive
+groves and fig trees were, cool and fresh as the night wind was, Spence
+slept but little.
+
+He could hear the prowling dogs of the streets baying the Eastern moon,
+the owls hooted in the trees, but it was not these distant sounds, all
+mellowed by the distance, which drove rest and sleep away. It was the
+imminent sense of the great issues of the morrow, a wild and fierce
+excitement which forbade sleep or rest and filled his veins with fire.
+
+He could not quite realise what awful things hung upon the event of the
+coming day. He knew that his brain could not contain the whole terror
+and vastness of the thought.
+
+Indeed, he felt that _no_ brain could adequately realise the importance
+of it all.
+
+Yet even that partial realisation of which he was capable was enough to
+drive all peace away, the live-long night, to leave him nothing but the
+plangent, burning thought.
+
+He was very glad when the cool, hopeful dawn came.
+
+The nightmare of vigil was gone. Action was at hand. He prayed in the
+morning air.
+
+Presently, from the city gates, he saw a little cavalcade drawing near,
+twelve soldiers on wiry Damascene horses, an officer, with the
+Governor's secretary riding by his side.
+
+Those preliminaries of a signed draft upon the bank, which cupidity and
+the occasion demanded, were soon over.
+
+These twelve soldiers and their commandant cost him two hundred pounds
+"English"; but that was nothing.
+
+If his own words were ineffective, then the cord and wedge must do the
+rest. It had to be paid for.
+
+The world was waiting.
+
+On through the olive groves and the vines laden with purple. On, over
+the little stone-bridged cascades and streams--sweet gifts of lordly
+Ebal--round the eastern wall of the town, crumbling stone where the
+mailed lizards were sleeping in the sun; on to the low roofs and vivid
+trees where the Greek traitor had made his home!
+
+At length the red road opened before them on to a burnt plain which was
+the edge and brim of the farm.
+
+It lay direct and patent to the view, the place of the great secret.
+
+Ionides was waiting for them, under a light verandah which ran round the
+house, before they reached the building.
+
+He had seen them coming over the plain.
+
+A little elderly olive-skinned man, with restless eyes the colour of
+sherry, bowed and bent before them with terrified inquiry in every
+gesture.
+
+His gaze flickered over the arms and shabby uniforms of the soldiers
+with hate and fear in it mingled with a piteous cringing. It was the
+look which the sad Greek boatmen on the shores of the Bosphorus wear all
+their lives.
+
+Then he saw Spence and recognised him as the Englishman who had been the
+friend of Hands, and was at the meetings of the Conference.
+
+The sight of the journalist seemed to affect him like a sudden blow. The
+fear and uneasiness he had shown at the first sight of the Turkish
+soldiers were intensified a thousand-fold.
+
+The man seemed to shrink and collapse. His face became ashen grey, his
+lips parched suddenly, for his tongue began to curl round them in order
+to moisten their rigidity.
+
+With a great effort he forced himself to speak in English first, fluent
+enough but elementary, and then in a rush of French, the language of all
+Europe, and one with which the cosmopolitan Greek is ever at home.
+
+The captain gave an order. His men dismounted and tied up the horses.
+
+Then, taking the conduct of the affair into his own hands at once, he
+spoke to Ionides with a snarling contempt and brutality that he would
+hardly have used to a strolling street dog.
+
+"The English gentleman has come to ask you some questions, dog. See to
+it that you give a true answer and speedy. For, if not, there are many
+ways to make you. I have the warrant of his Excellency the Governor to
+do as I please with you and yours."
+
+The Greek made an inarticulate noise. He raised one long-fingered,
+delicate hand to his throat.
+
+Spence, as he watched, could not help a feeling of pity. The whole
+attitude of the man was inexpressibly painful in its sheer terror.
+
+His face had become a white wedge of fear.
+
+The officer spoke again.
+
+"You will take the English pasha into a private room," he said sternly,
+"where he will ask you all he wishes. I shall post two of my men at the
+door. Take heed that they do not have to summon me. And meanwhile bring
+out food and entertainment for me and my soldiers."
+
+He clapped his hands and the women of the house, who were peering round
+the end of the verandah, ran to bring pilaff and tobacco.
+
+Spence, with two soldiers, closely following the swaying, tottering
+figure of Ionides, went into a cool chamber opening on to the little
+central courtyard round which the house was built.
+
+It was a bare room, with a low bench or ottoman here and there.
+
+But, on the walls, oddly incongruous in such a setting, were some framed
+photographs. Hands, in a white linen suit and a wide Panama hat, was
+there; there was a photograph of the museum at Jerusalem, and a picture
+cut from an English illustrated paper of the Society's great excavations
+at Tell Sandahannah.
+
+It was odd, Spence thought gravely, that the man cared to keep these
+records of his life in Jerusalem, crowned as it was with such an act of
+treachery.
+
+He sat down on the ottoman. The Greek stood before him, cowering against
+the wall.
+
+It was a little difficult to know how he should begin; what was the best
+method to ensure a full confession.
+
+He lit a cigarette to help his thoughts.
+
+"What did Sir Robert Llwellyn give you?--how much?" he said suddenly.
+
+Again the look of ashen fear came over the Greek's face. He struggled
+with it before he spoke.
+
+"I am sorry that your meaning is not plain to me, sir. I do not know of
+whom you speak."
+
+"I speak of him whom you served secretly. It was with your aid that the
+'new' tomb was found. But before it was found you and Sir Robert
+Llwellyn were at work there. I have come to obtain from you a detailed
+confession of how the thing was done, who cut the inscription?--I must
+know everything. If not, I tell you with perfect truth, your life is not
+safe. The Governor has sent men with me and you will be made to speak."
+
+He spoke with a deep menace in his tone, and at the same time drew his
+revolver from the hip pocket of his riding-breeches and held it on his
+knee.
+
+He had begun to realise the awful nature of this man's deed more and
+more poignantly in his presence. True, he was the tool of greater
+intelligences, and his guilt was not so heavy as theirs. Nevertheless,
+the Greek was no fool, he had something of an education, he had not done
+this thing blindly.
+
+The man crouched against the wall, desperate and hopeless.
+
+One of the soldiers outside the door moved, and his sabre clanked.
+
+The sound was decisive. With a broken, husky voice Ionides began his
+miserable confession.
+
+How simple it was! Wild astonishment at the ease with which the whole
+thing had been done filled the journalist's brain.
+
+The tomb, already known to the Greek, the slow carving of the
+inscription at dead of night by Llwellyn, the new coating of _hamra_
+sealing up the inner chamber.
+
+And yet, so skilfully had the forgeries been committed, chance had so
+aided the forgers, and their secret had been so well preserved that the
+whole world of experts was deceived.
+
+In the overpowering relief of the confession Spence was but little
+interested in the details, but at length they were duly set down and
+signed by the Greek in the presence of the officer.
+
+By midnight the journalist was far away on the road to Jerusalem.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE LAST MEETING
+
+
+In Sir Robert Llwellyn's flat in Bond Street the electric bell suddenly
+rang, a shrill tinkle in the silence.
+
+Schuabe, who sat by the window, looked up with a strained, white face.
+
+Avoiding his glance, Llwellyn rose and went out into the passage. The
+latch of the door clicked, there was a murmur of voices, and Llwellyn
+returned, following a third person.
+
+Schuabe gave a scarcely perceptible shudder as this man entered.
+
+The man was a thick-set person of medium height, clean shaven. He was
+dressed in a frock-coat and carried a silk hat, neither new nor smart,
+yet not seedy nor showing any evidences of poverty. The man's face was
+one to inspire a sensitive or alert person with a sudden disgust and
+terror for which a name can hardly be found. It was an utterly
+abominable and black soul that looked out of the still rather bilious
+eyes.
+
+The eyes were much older than the rest of the face. They were full of a
+cold and deliberate cruelty and, worse even than this, such a hideous
+_knowledge_ of unmentionable crime was there! The lips made one thin,
+wicked curve which hardly varied in direction, for this man could not
+smile.
+
+He belonged to a certain horrible gang who infest the West End of
+London, bringing terror and ruin to all they meet. These people haunt
+the bars and music halls of the "pleasure" part of London.
+
+It were better for a man that he had never been born--a thousand times
+better--than that he should go among these men. Black shame and horrors
+worse than death they bring with both hands to the bitter fools who
+lightly meet them unknowing what they are.
+
+Constantine Schuabe, in the moment when he saw this man--knowing well
+who and what he was--knew the bitterest moment of his life.
+
+Vast criminal that he was himself, mighty in his evil brain, ... he was
+pure; certain infamies were not his.... He spat into his handkerchief
+with an awful physical disgust.
+
+"This is my friend, Nunc Wallace," said Llwellyn, pale and trembling.
+
+The man looked keenly at his two hosts. Then he sat down in a chair.
+
+"Well, gentlemen," he said in correct English, but with a curious lack
+of _timbre_, of life and feeling in his voice--he spoke as one might
+think a corpse would speak--"I'm sorry to say that it's all off. It
+simply can't be done at any price. Even I myself, 'King of the boys' as
+they call me, confess myself beaten."
+
+Schuabe gave a sudden start, almost of relief it seemed.
+
+Llwellyn cleared his throat once or twice before he could speak. When
+the words came at length there was a nauseous eagerness in them.
+
+"Why not, Wallace? Surely _you_ and your friends--it must be something
+very hard that you can't manage."
+
+The words jostled each other in their rapid utterance.
+
+"Give me a drink, Sir Robert, and I'll tell you the reason," said the
+man.
+
+Then, with an inexpressible assumption of confidence and an identity of
+interests, which galled and stung the two wretched men till they could
+hardly bear the torture of it, he began:
+
+"You see, it's like this; we can generally calculate on 'putting a man
+through it' if he's anything to do with racing on the Turf. I've seen a
+man's face kicked liver colour, and no one knew who did it. But this
+parson was a more difficult thing altogether. Then it has been very much
+complicated by the fact of his friend coming back.
+
+"The idea was to get into the chambers on the evening of this Spence's
+arrival and put them both through it. In fact, we'd arranged everything
+fairly well. But two nights ago, as I was in the American bar, at the
+Horsecloth, a man touched me on the arm. It was Detective Inspector
+Melton. He knows everything. 'Nunc,' he said, 'sit down at one of these
+little tables and have a drink. I want to say a few words to you.' Well,
+of course I had to. He knows every one of the boys.
+
+"'Now, look here,' he said straight out. 'Some of your crowd have been
+watching the Rev. Basil Gortre of Lincoln's Inn; also, you've had a man
+at Charing Cross waiting for the continental express. Now, I've nothing
+against you _yet_, but I'll just tell you this. The people behind you
+aren't any guarantee for you. It's not as you think. This is a big
+thing. I'll tell you something more. This Mr. Gortre and this Mr.
+Spence you're waiting for are guarded night and day by order of the Home
+Secretary. It's an international affair. You can no more touch them than
+you can touch the Prince of Wales. Is that clear? If it's not, then
+you'll come with me at once on suspicion. I can put my finger on Bunny
+Watson'--he's my organising pal, gentlemen--'inside of an hour.'"
+
+He stopped at last, taking another drink with a shaking hand, watching
+the other two with horribly observing eyes.
+
+His cleverness had at once shown him that he had stumbled into something
+far more dangerous than any ordinary incident of his horrid trade. A
+million pounds would not have made him touch the "business" now. He had
+come to say this to his employers now.
+
+The unhappy men became aware that the man was looking at them both with
+a new expression. There was wonder in his cold eyes now, and a sort of
+fear also. When Llwellyn had first sought him with black and infamous
+proposals, there had been none of this. _That_ had seemed ordinary
+enough to him, the reason he did not inquire or seek to know.
+
+But now there was inquiry in his eyes.
+
+Both Schuabe and Llwellyn saw it, knew the cause, and shuddered.
+
+There was a tense silence, and then the creature spoke again. There was
+a loathsome confidential note in his voice.
+
+"Now, gentlemen," he said, "you've already paid me well for any little
+kindness I may have been able to try to do for you. I suppose, now that
+the little job is 'off,' I shall not get the rest of the sum agreed
+upon?"
+
+Schuabe, without speaking, made a sign to Llwellyn. The big man got up,
+went to a little nest of mahogany drawers which stood on his
+writing-table, and opening one of them, took from it a bundle of notes.
+
+He gave them to the assassin. "There, Nunc," he said; "no doubt you've
+done all you could. You won't find us ungrateful. But I want to ask you
+a few questions."
+
+The man took the notes, counted them deliberately, and then looked up
+with a gleam of satisfied greed passing over his face--the gleam of a
+pale sunbeam in hell.
+
+"Ask anything you like, sir," he said; "I'll give you any help I can."
+
+Already there was a ring almost of patronage in his voice. The word
+"help" was slightly emphasised.
+
+"This inspector, who is he exactly? I mean, is he an important person?"
+
+"He is the man who has charge of all the big things. He goes abroad when
+one of the big city men bunk to South America. He generally works
+straight from the Home Office; he's the Government man. To tell the
+truth, I was surprised to meet _him_ in the Horsecloth. One of the
+others generally goes there. When _he_ began to talk, I knew that there
+was something important, more than usual."
+
+"He definitely said that he knew your--backers?"
+
+"Yes, he did; and what's more, gentlemen, he seemed to know too much
+altogether about the business. I don't pretend to understand it. _I_
+don't know why a young parson and a press reporter are being looked
+after by Government as if they were continental sovereigns and the
+Anarchists were trying to get at them--no more than I know why two such
+gentlemen as you are wanting two smaller men put through it. But all's
+well that ends well. _I'm_ satisfied enough, and I'm extremely glad that
+I got this notice in time to stop it off. But whatever you do,
+gentlemen, give up any idea of doing those two any harm. You couldn't do
+it--couldn't get near them. Give it up, gentlemen. Somehow or other,
+they know all about it. Be careful. Now I'm off. Good-day, gentlemen.
+Look after yourselves. I fear there is trouble brewing somewhere, though
+it won't come through _me_. They can't _prove_ anything on our side."
+
+He went slowly out of the room, back into the darkness of the pit whence
+he came, to the dark which mercifully hides such as he from the gaze of
+dwellers under the heavens.
+
+Only the police of London know all about these men, and their
+imaginations are not, perhaps, strong enough to let the horror of
+contact remain with them.
+
+When he had gone, Llwellyn sank heavily into a chair. He covered his
+face with his hands and moaned.
+
+"Oh, fool that I was to try anything of the sort!" hissed Schuabe. "I
+might have known!"
+
+"What is the state of things, really, do you suppose?" said Llwellyn.
+
+"Imminent with doom for us!" Schuabe answered in a deep and melancholy
+voice. "It is all clear to me now. Your woman was set on to you by these
+men from the first. They are clever men. Michael Manichoe is behind them
+all. She got the story. Spence has been sent to verify it. He has got
+everything from Ionides. The Government has been told. These things have
+been going on during the last few hours. Spence has cabled something of
+his news, perhaps not all. He will be back to-day, this afternoon. He
+will have left Paris by now, and almost be nearing Amiens. In that
+train, Llwellyn, lies our death-warrant. Nothing can stop it. They will
+send the news all over the world to-night. It will be announced in
+London by dinner-time, probably."
+
+Llwellyn groaned again. In this supreme hour of torture the sensualist
+was nearer collapse than the ascetic. His life told heavily. He looked
+up. His face was green-grey save where, here and there, his fingers had
+pressed into, and left red marks upon, the cheeks, which had lost their
+firmness and begun to be pendulous and flabby.
+
+"What do you think must be the end?" he said.
+
+"The end is here," said Schuabe. "What matters the form or manner of it?
+They may bring in a bill and hang us, they will certainly give us penal
+servitude for life, but probably we shall be torn in pieces by the mob.
+There is only one thing left."
+
+He made an expressive gesture. Llwellyn shuddered.
+
+"All is not necessarily at an end," he said. "I shall make a last effort
+to get away. I have still got the clergyman's clothes I wore when I went
+to Jerusalem. There will be time to get out of London before this
+evening."
+
+"All over the continent and America you would be known. There is no
+getting away nowadays. As for me, I shall go down to my place in
+Manchester by the mid-day train. There is just time to catch it. And
+there I shall die before they can come to me."
+
+He got up and strode away out of the flat with a set, stern face. Never
+a passing look did he give to the man he had enriched and damned for
+ever. Never a gesture of farewell.
+
+Already he was as one in the grave. Llwellyn, left to himself in the
+silent, richly furnished flat, fell into hysterical sobbing.
+
+His big body shook with the vehemence of his unnatural terror. His moans
+and cries were utterly without dignity or pathos. He was filled with the
+immense self-pity of the sensualist.
+
+It is the added torture which comes to the evil-liver.
+
+In the hour of blackness, every moment of physical gratification or sin
+adds its weight to the terrible burden which must be borne.
+
+This man felt that he was lost. Perhaps all hope was not quite dead. He
+called on all his courage to make a last attempt at escape.
+
+He must leave this place at once. He would go first to his house in
+Upper Berkeley Street, Lady Llwellyn's house! His wife.
+
+Something strange and long forgotten moved within him at that word. What
+might not his life have been by her side, a life lived in open honour!
+What had he done with it all? His great name, his fame, were built up
+slowly by his long and brilliant work. Yet all the time that fair
+edifice was being undermined by secret workers. The lusts of the flesh
+were deep below the structure, their hammers were always slowly
+tapping--and now it was all over.
+
+He drove up to his own door, unlocked it, and went up the stairs to his
+own rooms.
+
+Though he had not been near them for weeks, he saw--with how keen a pang
+of regret--that they were swept and tidy, ready for his coming at any
+time.
+
+He rang the bell.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+DEATH COMING WITH ONE GRACE
+
+
+The door opened softly. A long beam of late winter sunshine which had
+been pouring in at the opposite window and striking the door with its
+projection of golden powder suddenly framed, played over, and lighted up
+the figure of Lady Llwellyn.
+
+Sir Robert stood in the middle of the pleasant room and looked at her.
+
+The sunlight showed up the grey pallor of her face, the lines of sorrow
+and resignation, the faded hair, the thin and bony hands.
+
+"Kate," he said in a weak voice.
+
+It was the first time he had called her by her name for many years.
+
+The tired face lit up with a swift and divine tenderness.
+
+She made a step forward into the room.
+
+He was swaying a little, giddy, it seemed.
+
+She looked him full in the face and saw things there which she had
+never seen before. A great horror was upon him, a frightful awakening
+from the long, sensual sloth of his life.
+
+Moving, working, in that great countenance, generally so impassive,
+uninfluenced by any emotion--at least to her long watchings--except by a
+moody irritation, she saw Doom, Fate, the Call of the Eumenides.
+
+It came to the poor woman in a sudden wave of illuminating certainty.
+
+She _knew_ the end had come.
+
+And yet, strangely enough, she felt nothing but a quickening of the
+pulses, a swift embracing pity which was almost a joy in its breaking
+away of barriers.
+
+If the end were here, it should be together--at last together.
+
+For she loved this cruel, sinning man, this lover of light loves, this
+man of purple, fine linen, and the sparkling deadly wines of life.
+
+"Kate!"
+
+He said it once more.
+
+Her manner changed. Shrinking, timidity, fear, fled for ever. In her
+overpowering rush of protecting love all the diffidences of temperament,
+all the bars which he had forced her to build around her instincts, were
+swept utterly away.
+
+She went quickly up to him, folded him in her arms.
+
+"Robert!" she said, "poor boy, the end has come to it all. I knew it
+must come some day. Well, we have not been happy. I wonder if _you_ have
+been happy? No, I don't think so. But now, Robert, you have me to
+comfort you with my love once more, my poor Robert, once more, as in the
+old, simple days when we were young."
+
+She led him to a couch.
+
+He trembled violently. His decision of movement seemed to have gone.
+His purpose of flight had for the moment become obscure.
+
+And now, into this man's heart came a remorse and regret so awful, a
+realisation so sudden and strong, so instinct with a pain for which
+there is no name, that everything before his eyes turned to burning
+fire.
+
+The flames of his agony burnt up the veils which had for so long
+obscured the truth. They shrivelled and vanished.
+
+Too late, too late, he knew what he had lost.
+
+The last agony wrenched his brain round again to another and more
+terrible contemplation.
+
+His thoughts were in other and outside hands, which pulled his brain
+from one scene to another as a man moves the eye of the camera obscura
+to different fields of view.
+
+Incredible as it may seem, for the first time Llwellyn _realised what he
+had done_--realised, that is, in its entirety, the whole horror and
+consequences of that action of his which was to kill him now.
+
+He had not _been able_ to see the magnitude and extent of his crime
+before--either at the time when it was proposed to him, except at the
+first moment of speech, or after its committal.
+
+His brain and temperament had been wrapped round in the hideous fact of
+sensuality, which deadens and destroys sensation.
+
+And now, with his wife's thin arms round him, her withered cheek pressed
+to his, her words of glad love, a martyr's swan song in his ears, he
+_saw_, _knew_, and _understood_.
+
+Through the terror of his thoughts her words began to penetrate.
+
+"I know, Robert--husband, I know. The end is here. But what has
+happened? Tell me everything, that I may comfort you the more. Tell me,
+Robert, _for the dear Christ's sake_!"
+
+At those words the man stiffened. "For the dear Christ's sake!"
+
+Suddenly, in the disorder and tumult of his tortured brain, came, quite
+foolishly and inconsequently, a quotation from an old French
+romance--full of satire and the keen cynicism of a period--which he had
+been reading:
+
+     "_'Tres volontiers,' repartit le d�mon.
+     'Vous aimez les tableaux changeans;
+     Je veux vous contenter.'_"
+
+Yes! the devil who was torturing him now had shown him many moving
+aspects of life. _Les tableaux changeans!_
+
+But now, at last, here was the worst moment of all.
+
+"_For the dear Christ's sake, tell me, Robert!_"
+
+How could he tell _this_?
+
+This was his last moment of peace, his last chance of any help or hope.
+
+He had begun to cling to her, to mingle foolish tears with hers--the
+while his fired brain ranged all the halls of agony.
+
+For if he told her--this gentle Christian lady, to whom he had been so
+unkind--then she would never touch him more.
+
+The last hours--there was but little time remaining--would be alone.
+ALONE!
+
+This new revelation that her love was still his, wonder of mysteries!
+this came at the last moments to aid him.
+
+A last grace before the running waters closed over him. Was he to give
+this up?
+
+The thought of flight lay like a wounded bird in his brain. It crept
+about it like some paralysed thing. Not yet dead, but inactive. Though
+he knew how terribly the moments called to him, yet he could not act.
+
+The myriad agonies he was enduring now, agonies so various and great
+that he knew Hell had none greater, these, even these were alleviated by
+the wonder of his wife's love.
+
+The terrible remorse that was knocking at his heart could not undo that.
+
+He clung to her.
+
+"Tell me all about it, Robert. I will forgive you, whatever you have
+done. I have long ago forgiven everything in my heart. There are only
+the words to say."
+
+She rested her worn, tired head on his shoulder. The sunbeams gave it a
+glory.
+
+Again the man must suffer a terrible agony. She had asked him to tell
+her all his trouble in a voice full of gentle pleading.
+
+_Whose voice did her voice recall to him; what fatal hour?_ A coarser
+voice, a richer voice, trembling, so he had thought, with love for him.
+
+"_Tell me everything, Bob!_" It was Gertrude's voice.
+
+The day of his undoing! The day when his horrid secret was wrested from
+him by the levers of his own passions. The day which had brought him to
+this. _Finis coronat opus!_
+
+But the agony within him was the agony of _contrast_.
+
+The great fires round his soul had burnt his lust away. There was no
+more regret or longing for the evil past. All the joys of a sensual life
+seemed as if they had never been. Now, the pain was the pain of a man,
+not who knows the worst too soon, but who knows the best too late!
+
+A vivid picture, a succession of thoughts following each other with such
+kinetic swiftness that they became welded in one single picture, as one
+may see a vast landscape of wood and torrent, champaign and forest, in
+one flash of the storm sword, came to him now.
+
+And, at the last, he saw himself seated at a great table in a noble
+room. There were soft lights. Silver and flowers were there. Round the
+board sat many men and women. On their faces was the calm triumph of
+those who had succeeded in a fine battle, won an intellectual strife.
+The faces were calm, powerful, serene. They were the salt of society. He
+saw his own face in a little mirror set among the flowers. His face was
+even as their faces. Self-reverence had dignified it, self-knowledge and
+self-control had turned the lines to kindly marble, defiant of time.
+
+At the other end of the table sat a calm and gracious lady, richly
+dressed in some glowing sombre stuff. She was the grave and loving
+matron who slept by his side.
+
+Full of honour, full of the glorious satisfaction of a great work well
+done, a life lived well; hand in hand, a noble and notable pair, they
+were making their fine progress together.
+
+"I am waiting, Robert, dear!"
+
+Then he knew that he must speak. In rapid words, which seemed to come
+from a vast distance, he confessed it all.
+
+He told her how Schuabe had tempted him with a vast fortune, how he was
+already in his power when the temptation had come. How his evil desires
+had so gripped him, his life of sin had become like air itself to him.
+
+He told of the secret visit to Palestine and the forgery which had
+stirred the world.
+
+As he spoke, he felt, in some subtle way, that the life and warmth were
+dying out of the arms which were round him.
+
+The electric current of devotion which had been flowing from this lady
+seemed to flicker and die away.
+
+The awful story was ended at last.
+
+Then with a face in which the horror came out in waves, inexpressibly
+terrible to see, with each beat of the pulses a wave of unutterable
+horror, she slowly rose.
+
+Her arms fell heavily to her sides, all her motions became automatic,
+jerky.
+
+Slowly, slowly, she turned.
+
+Her feet made no noise as she moved over the room. Her garments did not
+rustle. But she walked, not as an elderly woman, but a very old woman.
+
+The door clicked softly. He was left alone in the comfortable room.
+
+Alone.
+
+He stood up, tottered a few steps in the direction she had gone, and
+then, with a resounding crash which shook the furniture in a succession
+of quick rattles, his great form fell prone upon the floor.
+
+He lay there, head downwards, with the sunshine pouring on him, still
+and without any reactionary movement.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The afternoon was begun. London was as it had been for days. The
+uneasiness and unrest which were now become the common incubus of its
+inhabitants neither grew nor lessened.
+
+The afternoon papers were merely repetitions of former days. Great
+financial houses were tottering, rumours of wars were growing every
+hour, no country was at rest, no colony secure. Over the world
+lawlessness and rapine were holding horrid revel.
+
+But, and long afterwards, this fact was noticed and commented on by the
+historians: on this especial winter's afternoon there was no
+ultra-alarming shock, speaking comparatively, to the general state of
+things.
+
+In the pale winter sunshine men moved heavily about their business, the
+common burden was shared by all, but there was no loud trumpet note
+during those hours.
+
+About four o'clock some carriages drove to Downing Street. In one sat
+Sir Michael Manichoe, Father Ripon, Harold Spence, and Basil Gortre.
+
+In another was the English Consul at Jerusalem, who had arrived with
+Spence from the Holy City, Dr. Schm�ulder from Berlin, and the Duke of
+Suffolk.
+
+The carriages stopped at the house of the Prime Minister and the party
+entered.
+
+Nothing occurred, visibly, for an hour, though urgent messages were
+passing over the telephone wires.
+
+In an hour's time a cab came driving furiously down the Embankment,
+round by the new Scotland Yard and St. Stephen's Club, into Parliament
+Street.
+
+The cab contained the Editor of the _Times_. Following his arrival, in a
+few seconds, a number of other cabs drove up, all at a fast pace. Each
+one contained a prominent journalist. Ommaney was among the first to
+arrive, and Folliott Farmer was with him.
+
+It was nearly an hour when these people left Downing Street, all with
+very grave faces.
+
+A few minutes after their departure Sir Michael and his party came out,
+accompanied by several ministers, including the Home Secretary and the
+Chief Commissioner of Police.
+
+Though the distance to Scotland Yard is only a few hundred yards, the
+latter gentleman jumped into a passing hansom and was driven rapidly to
+his office.
+
+This brings the time up to about six o'clock.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was quite dark in Sir Robert's room. A faint yellow flicker came
+through the window, which was not curtained, from a gas lamp in the
+street. A dull and distant murmur from the Edgeware Road could be dimly
+heard, otherwise the room was quite silent.
+
+Llwellyn did not lie where he had fallen. His swoon had lasted long and
+no one had come to succour him. But the end was not just yet. The
+merciful oblivion of passing from a swoon into death was denied him.
+
+He had come to his senses late in the afternoon, about the time that the
+large party of people had emerged on foot and in carriages from the
+narrow _cul-de-sac_ of Downing Street.
+
+He had felt very cold, an icy-cold. There had come a terrible moment.
+The physical sensation was swamped and forgotten in one frightful flash
+of realisation. He was alone, the end was at hand.
+
+Alone.
+
+Instinctively he had tried to rise. He was lying face downwards at the
+return of sensation. His legs would not answer the message of his brain
+when he tried to move them so that he might rise. They lay like long
+dead cylinders behind him. He was able to drag himself very slowly, for
+a yard or two, until he reached an ottoman. He could not lift the vast
+weight of his body into the seat. It was utterly beyond his strength. He
+propped his trunk against the seat. It was all he was able to
+accomplish. Icy-cold sweat ran down his cheeks at the exertion. After he
+had finished moving he found that all strength had left him.
+
+He was paralysed from the waist downwards. The rest of his body was too
+weak to move him.
+
+Only his brain was working with a terrible activity, there alone in the
+chill dark.
+
+There came into his molten brain the impulse to pray. Deep down in every
+human heart that impulse lies.
+
+It is a seed planted there by God that it may grow into the tree of
+salvation.
+
+The effort was sub-conscious. Almost simultaneously with it came the
+awful remembrance of what he had done.
+
+A name danced in letters of flame in his brain--JUDAS.
+
+He looked round for some means to end this unbearable torture. He could
+see nothing, the room was very cold and dark, but he knew there was a
+case of razors on a table by the window.
+
+When he tried to move he found that he could not. The paralysis was
+growing upwards.
+
+Then this was to be the end?
+
+A momentary flood of relief came over him. His blood seemed warm again.
+
+But the sensation died rapidly away, the physical and mental glow alike.
+
+He remembered those cases, frequent enough, when the whole body loses
+the power of movement, but the brain survives, active, alive, helpless.
+
+And all the sweat which the physical glow had induced turned to little
+icicles all over his body, even as the thought froze in his brain.
+
+An hour went by.
+
+Alone in the dark.
+
+His tongue was parched and dry. A sudden wonder came to him--could he
+speak still?
+
+Without realising what word he used as a test he spoke.
+
+"Kate."
+
+A gaunt whisper in the silence.
+
+Silence! How silent it was! Yet no, he could hear the distant rumbling
+of the traffic. He became suddenly conscious of it. Surely it was very
+loud?
+
+It must be this physical change which was creeping over him. His head
+was swimming, disordered.
+
+Yet it seemed strangely loud.
+
+And louder, as he began to listen intently. He could not move his head
+to catch the sound more clearly, but he was beginning to hear it well
+enough now.
+
+No traffic ever sounded quite like that. It was like an advancing tide,
+thundering, as a horse gallops, over flat, level sands.
+
+A great sea rushing towards--towards what?
+
+Then he knew what that sound was.
+
+At last he knew.
+
+He could hear the individual shouts that made up the enormous mass of
+menacing sound.
+
+The nation was coming to take its revenge upon its betrayer.
+
+Mob law!
+
+They had found him out. It was as Schuabe had said--the great conspiracy
+was at an end. The stunning truth was out, flying round the world with
+its glad message.
+
+Yet, though once more the dishonoured Cross gleamed as the one solace in
+the hearts of men whose faith had been weak, though at that moment the
+glad news was racing round the world, yet the evil was not over.
+
+The Prince of the Powers of the air had reigned too long. Not lightly
+was he to relinquish his sceptre and dominion.
+
+They were in the erst-while quiet street below. The whole space was
+packed with the roaring multitude. The cries and curses came up to him
+in one roaring volume of sound, sounds that one looking over the brink
+of the pit of hell might hear.
+
+A heavy blow upon the stout door of the old well-built house shook the
+walls where the palsied Judas lay impotent.
+
+Another crash! The room was much lighter now, the crowd below had lights
+with them.
+
+Crash.
+
+The door opened silently. Lady Llwellyn came swiftly into the room.
+
+She wore a long white robe. Her face was lighted as if a lamp shone
+behind it.
+
+In her hand was the great crucifix which was wont to hang above her bed.
+
+When Christ died and bade the dying thief ascend with him to Paradise,
+can we say that His silence condemned the other?
+
+Her face was all aglow with love.
+
+"Robert!" she said. Her voice was like the voice of an angel.
+
+Her arms are round him, her kisses press upon him, the great crucifix is
+lifted to his dying eyes.
+
+A great thunder on the stairs, furious voices, the tide rising higher,
+higher.
+
+Death.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+AT WALKTOWN AGAIN
+
+
+The news came to Walktown, the final confirmation of what had been so
+long suspected, in a short telegram from Basil, dispatched immediately
+he had left Downing Street.
+
+Mr. Byars and Helena had been kept well acquainted with every step in
+the progress of the investigation.
+
+Ever since Gortre had left Walktown, after his holiday visit, his
+suspicions had been ringing in the vicar's ears.
+
+Then, when the matter had been communicated to Sir Michael and Father
+Ripon, when Spence had started, and Mr. Byars knew that all the powers
+of wealth and intellect were at work, his hopes revived.
+
+The vicar's faith had never for a single moment wavered.
+
+In the crash of the creeds his deep conviction never wavered.
+
+The light burned steadily before the altar.
+
+He had been one of the faithful thousands, learned, simple, Methodist,
+ritualist, who _knew_ that this thing could not be.
+
+Nevertheless his courage had been failing him. Life seemed to have lost
+its sweetness, and often he humbly wondered when he should die, hoping
+that the time was not too long--not without a tremulous belief that God
+would recognise that he had fought the good fight and kept the faith.
+
+In his own immediate neighbourhood the consequences of the "Discovery"
+nearly broke his heart. He had no need to look beyond Walktown. Even the
+great political events which were stirring the world had left him
+unmoved. His own small corner of the vineyard, now, alas! so choked with
+rank, luxuriant growth, was enough for this faithful pastor. Here he saw
+nothing but vice suddenly rearing its head and threatening to overwhelm
+all else. He heard the Holy Names blasphemed with all the inventions of
+obscene imaginations, assailed with all the wit of full-blooded men
+amazed and rejoiced that they could stifle their consciences at last.
+And this after all his life-work among these folk! He had given them of
+his best. His prayers, his intellect, much of his money had been theirs.
+
+How insolently they had exulted over him, these coarse and vulgar
+hearts!
+
+When Basil had first told Mr. Byars of his suspicions the vicar can
+hardly have been blamed for regarding them sadly as the generous effects
+of a young and ardent soul seeking to find an _immediate_ way out of the
+_impasse_.
+
+The elder man knew that fraud had been at work, but he suspected no such
+modern and insolent attempt as Basil indicated. It was too much to
+believe. Gortre had left him most despondent.
+
+But his interest had soon become quickened and alive, as the private
+reports from London reached him.
+
+When he knew that great people were moving quietly, that the weight of
+Sir Michael was behind Gortre, he knew at once that in all probability
+Basil's suspicions were right.
+
+A curious change came over the vicar's public appearances and
+utterances. His sermons were full of fire, almost Pauline in their
+strength. People began to flow and flock into the great empty church at
+Walktown. Mr. Byars's fame spread.
+
+Then, swiftly, after the first week or two, had come the beginning of
+the great financial depression.
+
+It was felt acutely in Manchester.
+
+All the wealthy, comfortable, easy-going folk who grudgingly paid a
+small pew-rent out of their superfluity became alarmed, horribly
+alarmed. The Christianity which had sat so lightly upon them that at
+first opportunity they had rushed into the Unitarian meeting-houses
+became suddenly a very desirable thing.
+
+In the fall of Christianity they saw their own fortunes falling. And
+these self-deceivers would be swept back upon the tide of this reaction
+into the arms of the Anglican mother they had despised.
+
+The vicar saw all this. He was a keen expert in, and student of, human
+affairs, and withal a psychologist. He saw his opportunity.
+
+His words lashed and stung these renegades. They were made to see
+themselves as they were; the preacher cut away all the ground from under
+them. They were left face to face with naked shame.
+
+What puzzled and yet uplifted the congregation at St. Thomas's was their
+vicar's extraordinary _certainty_ that the spiritual darkness over the
+land was shortly to be removed.
+
+It was commented on, keenly observed, greatly wondered at.
+
+"Mr. Byars speaks," said Mr. Pryde, a wealthy solicitor, "as if he had
+some private information about this Palestine discovery. He is so
+confident that he magnetises one into his own state of mind, and Byars
+is not a very emotional man either. His conviction is _real_. It's not
+hysteria."
+
+And, being a shrewd, silent man, the solicitor formed his own
+conclusions, but said nothing of them.
+
+The church continued full of worshippers.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When the news from Basil came, the vicar was sitting before the fire in
+his lighted study. He had been expecting the telegram all day.
+
+His brain had been haunted by the picture of that distinguished figure
+with the dark red hair he had so often met.
+
+Again he saw the millionaire standing in his drawing-room proffering
+money for scholarships. And in Dieppe also!
+
+How well and clearly he saw the huge figure of the _savant_ in his coat
+of astrachan, with his babble of soups and _entr�e_!
+
+Try as he would, the vicar could not hate these two men. The sin, the
+awful sin, yes, a thousand times. Horror could not be stretched far
+enough, no hatred could be too great for such immensity of crime.
+
+But in his great heart, in his large, human nature there was a Divine
+_pity_ for this wretched pair. He could not help it. It was part of him.
+He wondered if he were not erring in feeling pity. Was not this, indeed,
+that mysterious sin against the Holy Ghost for which there was no
+forgiveness? Was it not said of Judas that for his deed he should lie
+for ever in hell?
+
+The telegram was brought in by a neat, unconcerned housemaid.
+
+Then the vicar got up and locked the inner door of his study. He knelt
+in prayer and thanksgiving.
+
+It was a moment of intense spiritual communion with the Unseen.
+
+This good man, who had given his vigorous life and active intellect to
+God, knelt humbly at his study table while a joy and happiness not of
+this earth filled all his soul.
+
+At that supreme moment, when the sense of the glorious vindication of
+Christ flooded the priest's whole being with ecstasy, he knew, perhaps,
+a faint foreshadowing of the life the Blessed live in Heaven.
+
+For a few brief moments that imperfect instrument, the human body, was
+permitted a glimpse, a flash of the eternal joy prepared for the saints
+of God.
+
+The vicar drew very near the Veil.
+
+Helena beat at the door; he opened to her, the tall, gracious lady.
+
+She saw the news in her father's face.
+
+They embraced with deep and silent emotion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two hours later the vicarage was full of people.
+
+The news had arrived.
+
+Special editions of the evening papers were being shouted through the
+streets. Downing Street had spoken, and in Manchester--as in almost
+every great city in England--the Truth was pulsing and throbbing in the
+air, spreading from house to house, from heart to heart.
+
+Every one knew it in Walktown now.
+
+There was a sudden unanimous rush of people to the vicarage.
+
+Each big, luxurious house all round sent out its eager owners into the
+night.
+
+They came to show the pastor, who had not failed them in the darkness,
+their joy and gratitude now that light had come at last.
+
+How warm and hearty these North-country people were! Mr. Byars had never
+penetrated so deeply beneath the somewhat forbidding crust of manner and
+surface-hardness before.
+
+Mingled with the sense of shame and misery at their own lukewarmness,
+there was a fine and genuine desire to show the vicar how they honoured
+him for his steadfastness.
+
+"You've been an example to all of us, vicar," said a hard-faced,
+brassy-voiced cotton-spinner, a kindly light in his eyes, his lips
+somewhat tremulous.
+
+"We haven't done as we ought to by t' church," said another, "but you'll
+see that altered, Mr. Byars. Eh! but our faith has been weak! There'll
+be many a Christian's heart full of shame and sorrow for the past months
+this night, I'm thinking."
+
+They crowded round him, this knot of expensively dressed people,
+hard-faced and harsh-spoken, with a warmth and contrition which moved
+the old man inexpressibly.
+
+Never before had he been so near to them. Dimly he began to think he saw
+a wise and awful purpose of God, who had allowed this iniquity and
+calamity that the faith of the world might be strengthened.
+
+"We'll never forget what you've done for us, Mr. Byars."
+
+"If we've been lukewarm before, vicar, 't will be all boiling now!"
+
+"Praise God that He has spoken at last, and God forgive us for
+forgetting Him."
+
+The air was electric with love and praise.
+
+"Will you say a prayer, vicar?" asked one of the churchwardens. "It
+seems the time for prayer and a word or two like."
+
+The company knelt down.
+
+It was a curious scene. In the richly furnished drawing-room the group
+of portly men and matrons knelt at chairs and sofas, stolid,
+respectable, and middle-aged.
+
+But here and there a shoulder shook with suppressed emotion, a faint sob
+was heard. This, to many of them there, was the greatest spiritual
+moment they had ever known. Confirmation, communion, all the episodic
+mile-stones of the professing Christian's life had been experienced and
+passed decorously enough. But the inward fire had not been there. The
+deep certainty of God's mysterious commune with the brain, the deep love
+for Christ which glows so purely and steadfastly among the saints still
+on earth--these were coming to them now.
+
+And, even as the fires of the Paraclete had descended upon the Apostles
+many centuries before, so now the Holy Spirit began to stir and move
+these Christians at Walktown.
+
+The vicar offered up the joy and thanks of his people. He prayed that,
+in His mercy, God would never again let such extreme darkness descend
+upon the world. Even as He had said, "Neither will I again smite any
+more every thing living, as I have done."
+
+He prayed that all those who had been cast into spiritual darkness, or
+who had left the fold of Christ, might now return to it with contrite
+hearts and be in peace.
+
+Finally, they said the Lord's Prayer with deep feeling, and the vicar
+blessed them.
+
+And for each one there that night became a precious, helpful memory
+which remained with them for many years.
+
+Afterwards, while servants brought coffee, always the accompaniment to
+any sort of function in Walktown, the talk broke out into a hushed
+amazement.
+
+The news which had been telegraphed everywhere consisted of a statement
+signed by the Secretary of State and the archbishops that the discovery
+in Palestine was a forgery executed by Sir Robert Llwellyn at the
+instigation of Constantine Schuabe.
+
+"Ample and completely satisfying evidence is in our possession," so the
+wording ran. "We render heartfelt gratitude to Almighty God that He has
+in His wisdom caused this black conspiracy to be discovered. The thanks
+of the whole world, the gratitude of all Christians, must be for those
+devoted and faithful men who have been the instruments of Providence in
+discovering the Truth. Sir Michael Manichoe, the Rev. Basil Gortre, the
+Rev. Arthur Ripon, and Mr. Harold Spence have alone dispelled the clouds
+that have hung over the Christian world."
+
+It was a frightful shock to these people to know how a great magnate
+among them, a business _confr�re_, the member for their own division, an
+intimate, should have done this thing.
+
+As long as the world lasted the Owner of Mount Prospect who had spoken
+on their platforms would be accursed. It was too startling to realise at
+once; the thought only became familiar gradually, in little jerks, as
+one aspect after another presented itself to their minds.
+
+It was incredible that this antichrist had been long housed among them
+but a mile from where they stood.
+
+"What will they do to him?"
+
+"Who can say! There's never been a case like it before, you see."
+
+"Well, the paper doesn't say, but I expect they've got them safe enough
+in London--Mr. Schuabe and the other fellow."
+
+"Just to think of our Mr. Gortre helping to find it out! Pity we ever
+let him go away from the parish church."
+
+"They can't do less than make him a bishop, I should think."
+
+"Miss Byars, you ought to be proud of your young man. There's many folk
+blessing him in England this night."
+
+And so on, and so forth; simple, homely speeches, not indeed free from a
+somewhat hard commercial view, but informed with kindliness and
+gratitude.
+
+At last, one by one, they went away. It was close upon midnight when the
+last visitor had departed.
+
+The vicar read a psalm to his daughter:
+
+     "_Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to
+     thy word. For mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou hast
+     prepared before the face of all people._"
+
+Basil was to come to them on the morrow for a long stay.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+IN THREE PICTURES
+
+     NOTE.--_The three pictures all synchronise. The episodes they
+     portray take place five years after the day upon which Sir Robert
+     Llwellyn died._--G. T.
+
+
+I. THE GRAVE
+
+Two figures walked over the cliffs.
+
+The day was wild and stormy. Huge clouds, bursting with sombre light,
+sailed over the pewter-coloured sea. The bleak magnificence of the moor
+stretched away in endless billows, as sad and desolate as the sea on
+which no sail was to be seen.
+
+The wayfarers turned out of the struggle of the bitter wind into a
+slight depression. A few scattered cottages began to come into the field
+of their vision.
+
+Soon they saw the whitewashed buildings of a coast-guard station and the
+high, square tower of a church.
+
+"So it's all settled, Spence," said one of the men, a tall, noble-faced
+man, dressed as a clerk in Holy Orders.
+
+"Yes, Father Ripon," Spence said. "They have offered me the paper. It
+was one of poor Ommaney's last wishes. Of course, we were injured in our
+circulation by the fact that we were the first to publish the news of
+the great forgery. But in two years Ommaney had brought the paper to the
+front again. He was wonderful, the first editor of his age.
+
+"I was there with Folliott Farmer and the doctors when he died. Fancy,
+it was the first time I had ever been in his flat, though we had worked
+together all these years! The simplest place you ever saw. Just a couple
+of rooms, where he slept all the daytime. No luxury, hardly even
+comfort. Ommaney had no existence apart from his work. He'd saved nearly
+all his very large salary for many years. I am an executor of his will.
+He left a legacy to Farmer, and to me also, and the rest to the
+Institute of Journalists. But I am persuaded that he did not care in the
+least what happened to his money. He never did. He wasn't mean in any
+way, but he worked all night and slept all day, and simply hadn't any
+use for money. A good-hearted man, a very brilliant editor, but utterly
+detached from any _personal_ contact with life."
+
+Father Ripon's keen face, still as eager and powerful as before, set
+into lines of thought.
+
+He sighed a little. "A modern product," he said at length. "A modern
+product, a sign of the times. Well, Spence, a power is entrusted to you
+now such as no priest can enjoy. I pray that your editorship of this
+great paper will be fine. Try to be fine always. I believe that the Holy
+Spirit will be with you."
+
+They rose up towards the moor again. "There's the church," said Spence,
+"where she lies buried. Gortre sees that the grave is kept beautiful
+with flowers. It was an odd impulse of yours, Father, to propose this
+visit."
+
+"I do odd things sometimes," said the priest, simply. "I thought that
+the sight of this poor woman's resting-place might remind you and me of
+what has passed, of what she did for the world--though no one knows it
+but our group of friends. I hope that it will remind us, remind you very
+solemnly, my friend, in your new responsibility, of what Christ means to
+the world. The shadows of the time of darkness, 'When it Was Dark'
+during the 'Horror of Great Darkness,' have gone from us. And this poor
+sister did this for her Saviour's sake."
+
+They stood by Gertrude Hunt's grave as they spoke.
+
+A slender copper cross rose above it, some six feet high.
+
+"I wonder how the poor girl managed it," said Spence at length; "her
+letter was wonderfully complete. Sir Michael--Lord Fencastle, I
+mean--showed it me some years ago. She was wonderfully adroit. I suppose
+Llwellyn had left papers about or something. But I do wonder how she did
+it."
+
+"That," said Father Ripon, "was what she would never tell anybody."
+
+"_Requiescat in pace_," said Spence.
+
+"In Paradise with Saint Mary of Magdala," the priest said softly.
+
+
+THE SECOND PICTURE
+
+_Quem Deus Vult Perdere._
+
+The chaplain of the county asylum stood by the castellated red brick
+lodge at the end of the asylum drive, talking to a group of young
+ladies.
+
+The drive, which stretched away nearly a quarter of a mile to the
+enormous buildings of the asylum, with their lofty towers and warm,
+florid architecture, was edged with rhododendrons and other shrubs.
+
+The gardens were beautifully kept. Everything was mathematically
+straight and clean, almost luxurious, indeed.
+
+The girls were three in number, young, fashionably dressed. They talked
+without ceasing in an empty-headed stream of girlish chatter.
+
+They were the daughters of a great ironfounder in the district, and
+would each have a hundred thousand pounds.
+
+The chaplain was showing them over the asylum.
+
+"How sweet of you, Mr. Pritchard, to show us everything!" said one of
+the girls. "It's awfully thrilling. I suppose we shall be quite safe
+from the violent ones?"
+
+"Oh, yes," said the chaplain, "you will only see those from a distance;
+we keep them well locked up, I assure you."
+
+The girls laughed with him.
+
+The party went laughing through the long, spotless corridors, peeping
+into the bright, airy living-rooms, where bodies without brains were
+mumbling and singing to each other.
+
+The imbecile who moved vacantly with slobbering lip, the dementia
+patient, the log-like, general paralytic--"G. P."--_things_ which must
+be fed, the barred and dangerous maniac, they saw them all with pleasant
+thrills of horror, disgust, and sometimes with laughter.
+
+"Oh, Grace, _do_ look at that funny little fat one in the corner--the
+one with his tongue hanging out! Isn't he _weird_?"
+
+"There's one actually _reading_! He _must_ be only pretending!"
+
+A young doctor joined them--a handsome Scotchman with pleasant manners.
+
+For a time the lunatics were forgotten.
+
+"Well, now, have we seen _all_, Doctor Steward?" one of the girls said.
+"All the worst cases? It's really quite a new sensation, you know, and I
+always go in for new sensations."
+
+"Did ye show the young leddies Schuabe?" said the doctor to the
+chaplain.
+
+"Bless my soul!" he replied, "I must be going mad myself. I'd quite
+forgotten to show you Schuabe."
+
+"Who is Schuabe?" said the youngest of the sisters, a girl just fresh
+from school at Saint Leonards.
+
+"Oh, _Maisie_!" said the eldest. "Surely you remember. Why, it's only
+five years ago. He was the Manchester millionaire who went mad after
+trying to blow up the tomb of Christ. I think that was it. It was in all
+the papers. A young clergyman found out what he'd been trying to do, and
+then he went mad--this Schuabe creature, I mean, not the clergyman."
+
+"Every one likes to have a look at this patient," said the doctor. "He
+has a little sleeping-room of his own and a special attendant. His money
+was all confiscated by order of the Government, but they allow two
+hundred a year for him. Otherwise he would be among the paupers."
+
+The girls giggled with pleasurable anticipation.
+
+The doctor unlocked a door. The party entered a fairly large room,
+simply furnished. In an arm-chair a uniformed attendant was sitting,
+reading a sporting paper.
+
+The man sprang up and saluted as he heard the door open.
+
+On a bed lay the idiot. He had grown very fat and looked healthy. The
+features were all coarsened, but the hair retained its colour of dark
+red.
+
+He was sleeping.
+
+"Now, Miss Clegg, ye'd never think that was the fellow that made such a
+stir in the world but five years since. But there he lies. He always
+eats as much as he can, and goes to sleep after his meal. He's waking up
+now, sir. Here, Mr. Schuabe, some ladies have come to see you."
+
+_It_ got up with a foolish grin and began some ungainly capers.
+
+"Thank you _so_ much, Mr. Pritchard," the girls said as they left the
+building. "We've enjoyed ourselves so much."
+
+"I liked the little man with his tongue hanging out the best," said one.
+
+"Oh, Mabel, you've _no_ sense of humour! That Schuabe creature was the
+funniest of _all_!"
+
+
+THE THIRD PICTURE
+
+A Sunday evensong. The grim old Lancashire church of Walktown is full of
+people. The galleries are crowded, every seat in the aisles below is
+packed.
+
+This night, Easter night, the church looks less forbidding. The harsh
+note is gone, something of the supreme joy of Holy Easter has driven it
+away.
+
+Old Mr. Byars sits in his stall. He is tired by the long, happy day, and
+as the choir sings the last verse of the hymn before the sermon he sits
+down.
+
+The delicate, intellectual face is a little pinched and transparent. Age
+has come, but it is to this faithful priest but as the rare bloom upon
+the fruits of peace and quiet.
+
+How the thunderous voices peal in exultation!
+
+Alleluia!
+
+Christ is risen! The old man turned his head. His eyes were full of
+happy tears. He saw his daughter, a young and noble matron now, standing
+in a pew close to the chancel steps. He heard her pure voice, full of
+triumph. Christ is risen!
+
+From his oak chair behind the altar rails Dean Gortre came down towards
+the pulpit.
+
+Young still--strangely young for the dignity which they had pressed on
+him for two years before he would accept it--Basil ascended the steps.
+
+Christ is risen!
+
+The organ crashed; there was silence.
+
+All the lights in the church were suddenly lowered to half their height.
+
+The two candles in the pulpit shone brightly on the preacher's face.
+
+They all saw that it was filled with holy fire.
+
+Christ is risen!
+
+     "IF CHRIST BE NOT RISEN YOUR FAITH IS VAIN"
+
+The church was absolutely still as the words of the text rang out into
+it.
+
+The people were thinking humbly, with contrite hearts, of the shame five
+years ago.
+
+     "Would that our imagination, under the conduct of Christian faith,
+     could even faintly realise the scene when the Human Soul of Our
+     Lord came with myriads of attendant angels to the grave of Joseph,
+     to claim the Body that had hung upon the cross.
+
+     "To-night, with the promise and warrant of our own resurrection
+     that His has given us, our thoughts involuntarily turn to those we
+     call the dead. We feel that this Easter is for them also an
+     occasion of rejoicing, and that the happiness of the earthly Church
+     is shared by the loving and beloved choir behind the veil.
+
+     "Christ is risen! Away with the illusions which may have kept us
+     from Him. Let us also arise and live. For, as the spouse sings in
+     the Canticles, 'The winter is past, ... the time of the singing of
+     birds is come; ... arise, my love, my fair one, and come away!'"
+
+Christ is risen!
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] This article has already been seen in the preceding chapter.
+
+[2] This particular instance of the Nuri� woman is _not_ all fiction. An
+incident much resembling it actually occurred to a well-known writer on
+the intimate life of Eastern peoples. For the purposes of the narrative
+the _locale_ has been changed from the Jaffa Road--where the event took
+place--to Jerusalem itself.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+     _A Selection from the Catalogue of_
+
+     G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+
+     Complete Catalogues sent on application
+
+
+
+
+     _Bound to excite a great deal of favorable comment_
+
+     A Lost Cause
+
+     _By_
+
+     Guy Thorne
+     Author of "When It Was Dark."
+
+     Crown Octavo----$1.50
+
+     Mr. Thorne, the author of that much-discussed religious novel, _When
+     It Was Dark_, which has become the theme of hundreds of sermons, and
+     has received the highest commendation in the secular press as well
+     as in the religious publications, has written another powerful book
+     which also deals with present-day aspects of the Christian religion.
+     The new story is marked by the same dramatic and emotional strength
+     which characterized his earlier work. The special theme deals with
+     certain practices which have caused dissension in the Church, and
+     the influence of ardent religious convictions on character and
+     conduct. Written in all sincerity, the book can hardly fail to
+     arouse wide and varied attention and is destined to take its place
+     as one of the most interest-compelling works of fiction in recent
+     years.
+
+     New York--G. P. Putnam's Sons--London
+
+
+
+
+     "Something distinctly out of the common, well conceived, vividly
+     told, and stirring from start to finish."--_London Telegraph._
+
+     The Scarlet Pimpernel
+
+     By Baroness Orczy
+     _Author of "The Emperor's Candlesticks," etc._
+
+     A dramatic romance of the French Revolution and the �migr� Nobles.
+     The "Scarlet Pimpernel" was the chief of a daring band of young
+     Englishmen leagued together to rescue members of the French
+     nobility from the Terrorists of France. The identity of the
+     brilliant and resourceful leader is sacredly guarded by his
+     followers and eagerly sought by the agents of the French
+     Revolutionary Government. Scenes of intrigue, danger, and devotion,
+     follow close one upon another. The heroine is a charming, fearless
+     woman who in the end shares the honors with the "Scarlet
+     Pimpernel." In a stage version prepared by the author _The Scarlet
+     Pimpernel_ was one of the dramatic successes of the last London
+     season, Mr. Fred Terry and Miss Julia Neilson acting the leading
+     r�les.
+
+     _Crown 8vo, with Illustrations from Photographs of the Play, $1.50_
+
+     _New York_ ~ G. P. Putnam's Sons ~ _London_
+
+
+
+
+     _A Fascinating Romance_
+
+     Love Alone is Lord
+
+     _By_ F. Frankfort Moore
+     _Author of "The Jessamy Bride," etc._
+
+     This latest story by the author of _The Jessamy Bride_ has for its
+     theme the only really ideal love affair in the romantic life of
+     Lord Byron. The story opens during the poet's boyhood and tells of
+     his early devotion to his cousin, Mary Chaworth. Mr. Moore has
+     followed history very closely, and his descriptions of London
+     society when Byron was the rage are as accurate as they are
+     dramatic. Lady Caroline Lamb figures prominently in the story, but
+     the heroine continues to be Byron's early love, Mary Chaworth. His
+     attachment for his cousin was the strongest and most enduring of
+     his life, and it failed of realization only by the narrowest of
+     chances.
+
+     _Crown 8vo, $1.50_
+
+     G. P. Putnam's Sons
+
+     _New York_     _London_
+
+
+
+
+     "The cleverest work of the kind written in many years."--_Rochester
+     Herald._
+
+     OUR BEST SOCIETY
+
+     A Novel Dealing with the Life of the Rich in New York
+
+     By JOHN D. BARRY
+     Author of "The Congressman's Wife," "Mademoiselle Blanche," "A
+     Daughter of Thespis," etc.
+
+     Now in its Second Edition. Crown Octavo. Cloth, $1.50.
+
+     It is one of the most interesting descriptions of modern society
+     since "The Breadwinners," supposed to be written by John Hay. A
+     witty and cleverly drawn picture, as sure in its touch and as
+     effective in its results as a Gibson drawing.
+         _Town and Country._
+
+     The book will attract the "initiated" because the author has caught
+     the real key-note.
+         _The Independent._
+
+     Exceedingly clever in many ways. Although it is a really brilliant
+     satire, there is no bitterness. On the contrary, an air of almost
+     blissful good-humor pervades every page.
+         _St. Paul Pioneer-Press._
+
+     G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+
+     New York     London
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
+
+Punctuation has been silently corrected where there are obvious errors.
+
+Words with hyphens and accents have been standardised.
+
+Italics are indicated by underscores _like this_.
+
+Words in Greek script are indicated by equals-signs, =like this=.
+
+The following corrections of typographical errors have been made:
+
+    "refined and, artistic" to "refined and artistic" (p.3)
+
+    "tolerent" to tolerant" (p. 29)
+
+    "it forget to jeer" to "it forgot to jeer" (p. 49)
+
+    "Salonika cigarrette" to "Salonika cigarette" (p. 53)
+
+    "forty thousands pounds" to "forty thousand pounds" (p. 67)
+
+    "volumn" to "volume" (p. 72)
+
+    "lines cames out upon it" to "lines came out upon it" (p. 90)
+
+    "weathly banker" to "wealthy banker" (p. 107)
+
+    "Dieppe its true significance" to "Dieppe--its true significance"
+    (p. 108)
+
+    "become more resonant" to "became more resonant" (p. 112)
+
+    "Schaube" to "Schuabe" (p. 193)
+
+    "Sanhedrim of the great" to "Sanhedrin of the great" (p. 235)
+
+    "Neirsteiner" to "Niersteiner" (p. 242)
+
+    "in amazemen" to "in amazement" (p. 261)
+
+    "Sir Ulang Pass" to "Sri Ulang Pass" (p. 293)
+
+    "rising but of the sea" to "rising out of the sea" (p. 323)
+
+    "Exellency" to "Excellency" (p. 350)
+
+    "the lastest visitor" to "the last visitor" (p. 384)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of When It Was Dark, by Guy Thorne
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN IT WAS DARK ***
+
+***** This file should be named 39666-8.txt or 39666-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of When It Was Dark, by Guy Thorne
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license
+
+
+Title: When It Was Dark
+       The Story of a Great Conspiracy
+
+Author: Guy Thorne
+
+Release Date: May 10, 2012 [EBook #39666]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN IT WAS DARK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Mark C. Orton, Margo Romberg and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+book was produced from scanned images of public domain
+material from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/sticker.png" width="300" height="233" alt="sales sticker" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h1>WHEN IT WAS DARK</h1>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/frontispiece.png" width="500" height="309" alt="logo" />
+</div>
+
+<h2>When It Was Dark</h2>
+
+<h3>The Story of a Great Conspiracy</h3>
+
+<h3>By</h3>
+
+<h4>Guy Thorne</h4>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 37px;">
+<img src="images/logo-1.png" width="37" height="42" alt="stone carved with Greek letters" />
+<br /></div>
+
+<h5>G. P. Putnam's Sons<br />
+New York and London<br />
+The Knickerbocker Press<br />
+1906</h5>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<h5><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1904<br />
+BY<br />
+G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS</span></h5>
+
+<h6>Published, January, 1904<br />
+Reprinted, May, 1904; September, 1904<br />
+December, 1904; September, 1905<br />
+October, 1905; November, 1905; January, 1906</h6>
+
+<h6>The Knickerbocker Press, New York</h6>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</a></h2>
+
+<h4>BOOK I.</h4>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" width="70%" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Book 1 contents">
+<tr><td class="tdr">CHAPTER</td><td> </td><td class="tdr">PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">I.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdlw"><span class="smcap">An Incident by Way of Prologue</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">II.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In the Vicar's Study</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">6</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr"> III.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl">"<span class="smcap">I Think he is a Good Man</span>"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">23</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">IV.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Smoke Cloud at Dawn</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">33</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">V.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Lost Soul</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">45</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">VI.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Whisper</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">56</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr"> VII.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Last Words at Walktown</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">69</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Dinner at the Pannier d'Or</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">77</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">IX.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Inauguration</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">95</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">X.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Resurrection Sermon</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">107</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XI.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl">"<span class="smcap">Neither do I Condemn Thee</span>"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">116</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr"> XII.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Powers of Good and Evil</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">126</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h4><br />BOOK II.</h4>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" width="70%" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Book 2 contents">
+<tr><td class="tdr">CHAPTER</td><td> </td><td class="tdr">PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">I.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdlw"><span class="smcap">While London was Sleeping</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_Ib">141</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">II.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Avoiding the Flower Pattern on the Carpet</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIb">165</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr"> III.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl">"<span class="smcap">I, Joseph</span>"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIIb">178</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">IV.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Domestic Chaplain's Testimony</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IVb">184</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">V.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Deus, Deus Meus, Quare Dereliquisti!</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_Vb">194</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdrt">VI.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Harness the Horses; and Get up, ye Horsemen, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span><br />
+Stand forth with your Helmets, Furbish the Spears,<br />
+and Put on the Brigandines.&mdash;Jer. xlvi: 4</span></td><td class="tdrb"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIb">205</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr"> VII.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Hour of Chaos</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIb">212</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The First Links</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIIb">225</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdrt">IX.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Particular Instances, Contrasting the Old Lady<br />
+and the Special Correspondent</span></td><td class="tdrb"><a href="#CHAPTER_IXb">233</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">X.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Triumph of Sir Robert Llwellyn</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_Xb">245</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">XI.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Progress</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIb">256</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr"> XII.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Soul alone on the Sea-Shore</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIIb">262</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<h4>BOOK III.</h4>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" width="70%" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Book 3 contents">
+<tr><td class="tdr">CHAPTER</td><td> </td><td class="tdr">PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">I.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdlw"><span class="smcap">What it Meant to the World's Women</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_Ic">271</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">II.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Cyril Hands Redux</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIc">283</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdrt"> III.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">All ye Inhabitants of the World, and Dwellers on<br />
+the Earth, See ye, when He Lifteth up an Ensign on<br />
+the Mountains&mdash;Is. xviii: 3</span></td><td class="tdrb"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIIc">289</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">IV.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Luncheon Party</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IVc">302</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">V.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">By the Tower of Hippicus</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_Vc">322</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">VI.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Under the Eastern Stars: towards Gerizim</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIc">342</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr"> VII.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Last Meeting</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIc">356</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Death Coming with One Grace</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIIc">364</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">IX.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">At Walktown Again</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IXc">376</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">&nbsp;</td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Epilogue</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#EPILOGUE">385</a>&nbsp;&nbsp;</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h2>BOOK I</h2>
+
+<p class="p2bc">"The mystery of iniquity doth already work."</p>
+
+<hr class="r30" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+<h1>WHEN IT WAS DARK</h1>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></h2>
+
+<h4>AN INCIDENT BY WAY OF PROLOGUE</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">M</span><span class="smcap">r. Hinchcliffe</span>, the sexton, looked up as Mr.
+Philemon, the clerk, unlocked the great gates of
+open ironwork which led into the street. Hinchcliffe was
+cutting the lettering on a tombstone, supported by heavy
+wooden trestles, under a little shed close to the vestry
+door of the church.</p>
+
+<p>The clerk, a small, rotund man, clerical in aspect,
+and wearing a round felt hat, pulled out a large, old-fashioned
+watch. "Time for the bell, William," he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>The parish church was a large building in sham perpendicular.
+It stood in a very central position on the
+Manchester main road, rising amid a bare triangle of flat
+gravestones, and separated from the street pavement
+only by high iron railings.</p>
+
+<p>It was about half-past four on a dull autumn afternoon.
+The trams swung ringing down the black, muddy road,
+and the long procession of great two-wheeled carts,
+painted vermilion, carried coal from the collieries six
+miles away to the great mills and factories of Salford.</p>
+
+<p>The two men went into the church, and soon the tolling
+of a deep-voiced bell, high up in the pall of smoke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>
+which lay over the houses, beat out in regular and melancholy
+sound.</p>
+
+<p>Inside the building the noise of the traffic sank into a
+long, unceasing note like the <i>bourdon</i> note of a distant
+organ.</p>
+
+<p>Hinchcliffe tolled the bell in the dim, ugly vestibule
+with his foot in a loop in the rope, sitting on the chest
+which held the dozen loaves which were given away every
+Sunday to the old women in the free seats.</p>
+
+<p>The clerk opened the green baize swing-doors and
+strode up the aisle towards the vestry, waking mournful
+echoes as the nails in his boots struck the tiled floor.</p>
+
+<p>Saint Thomas's Church, the mother church of Walktown,
+was probably the ugliest church in Lancashire.
+The heavy galleries, the drab walls, the terrible gloom
+of the vast structure, all spoke eloquently of a chilly,
+dour Christianity, a grudging and suspicious Sunday religion
+which animated its congregation.</p>
+
+<p>In the long rows of cushioned seats, each labelled
+with the name of the person who rented it, Sunday by
+Sunday the moderately prosperous and wholly vulgar
+Lancashire people sat for two hours. During the prayers
+they leaned forward in easy and comfortable concession to
+convention. Few ever knelt. During the hymn times
+they stood up in their places listening carefully to a fine
+choir of men and women&mdash;a choir which, despite its
+vocal excellence, was only allowed to perform the most
+stodgy and commonplace evangelical music.</p>
+
+<p>When the incumbent preached he was heard with the
+jealous watchfulness which often assails an educated
+man. The renters of the pews desired a Low Church
+aspect of doctrine and were intelligent to detect any
+divergence from it.</p>
+
+<p>The colour of the building was sombre. The brick-red
+and styx-like grey of the flooring, the lifeless chocolate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>
+front of the galleries, the large and ugly windows
+filled with glass which was the colour of a ginger-beer
+bottle, had all a definite quality of cheerless vulgarity.</p>
+
+<p>Philemon came out of the vestry door with a lighted
+taper. He lit two or three jets of the corona over the
+reading-desk. Then he sat down in a front pew close to
+the chancel steps and waited.</p>
+
+<p>The bell outside stopped suddenly, and a tall young
+man in a black Inverness cape walked hurriedly up the
+side aisle under the gallery towards the vestry.</p>
+
+<p>In less than a minute he came out again in surplice,
+stole, and hood,&mdash;the stole and hood were always worn
+at Walktown,&mdash;went to the reading-desk, and began to
+say Evensong in a level, resonant voice.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of each psalm Mr. Philemon recited the
+doxology with thunderous assertion and capped each
+prayer with an echoing "Amen."</p>
+
+<p>The curate, Basil Gortre, was a young fellow with a
+strong, impressive face. His eyes had the clearness of
+youth and looked out steadily on the world under his
+black hair. His face was of that type men call a
+"thoroughly honest" face, but, unlike the generality of
+such faces, it was neither stubborn nor stupid. The
+clean-shaven jaw was full of power, the mouth was refined
+and, artistic, without being either sensual or weak.</p>
+
+<p>During the Creed he turned towards the east, and the
+clerk's uncompromising voice became louder and more
+acid as he noticed the action; and when the clergyman,
+almost imperceptibly, made the sign of the Cross at the
+words "The resurrection of the body," the old man
+gave a loud snort of disapprobation.</p>
+
+<p>In deference to the congregation on Sundays, and at
+the wish of his vicar, Gortre omitted these simple signs
+of reverence. But alone, at Matins or Evensong, he
+followed his usual habit.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>During the last low prayers, as dusk crept into the
+great church, and the clank and bells of the trams outside
+seemed to be more remote, a part, indeed, of that
+visible but not symbolic ugliness which the gloom was
+hiding, a note of fervour crept into the young man's
+praying which had only been latent there before.</p>
+
+<p>He was reading the third collect when the few gas jets
+above his head began to whistle, burnt blue for a few
+seconds, and then faded out with three or four faint
+pops.</p>
+
+<p>Some air had got into the pipes. Old Mr. Philemon
+rose noisily from his knees, and shuffled off to the vestry
+coughing and spluttering. Outside, with startling suddenness,
+a piano organ burst into a gay, strident melody.
+After a few bars the music stopped with a jerk. A police
+constable had spoken to the organ-grinder and moved
+him on.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre's voice went on in a deep, fervent monotone,
+unmoved by the darkness or the dissonance&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<i>Lighten our darkness, we beseech Thee, O Lord; and
+by Thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of
+this night; for the love of Thy only Son, our Saviour Jesus
+Christ.</i>"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The faithful, quiet voice, enduring through the dark,
+was a foreshadowing of the great cloud which was breaking
+over the world, big with disaster, imminent with
+gloom. It foreshadowed the divinely aided continuance
+of Truth through such a terror as men had never known
+before.</p>
+
+<p>It meant many things, that firm and beautiful voice&mdash;hope
+in the darkest hour for thousands of dying souls, a
+noble woman's happiness in time of dire stress and evil
+temptations and a death worse than the death Judas<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>
+died&mdash;for Mr. Schuabe the millionaire and Robert
+Llwellyn the scholar, taking tea together in the Athen�um
+Club three hundred miles away in London.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"&mdash;<i>by Thy great mercy defend us from all perils and
+dangers of this night</i>."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4b">Mr. Philemon returned with a taper, an old and
+wrinkled acolyte, in time with his loud and sonorous
+AMEN.</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></h2>
+
+<h4>IN THE VICAR'S STUDY</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="smcap">he</span> vicarage of Walktown was a new and commodious
+house with tall chimneys, pointed windows,
+and a roof of red tiles.</p>
+
+<p>It was more than a mile from the church, in the residential
+quarter of the town. Here were no shops and
+little traffic. The solid houses of red brick stood in
+their own rather dingy grounds, where, though the grass
+was never really green, and spring came in a veil of
+smoky vapour when the wind blew from the town, there
+was yet a rural suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>The trees rose from neatly kept lawns, the gravel
+sweeps of the drives were carefully tended, and there
+was distant colour in the elaborate conservatories and
+palm-houses which were to be seen everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pryde, the great Manchester solicitor, had his
+beautiful modern house here. Sir John Neele, the
+wealthy manufacturer of disinfectants, lived close by,
+and a large proportion of the well-to-do Manchester
+merchants were settled round about.</p>
+
+<p>Not all of them were parishioners of Mr. Byars, the
+vicar of Walktown. Many attended the more fashionable
+church of Pendleborough, a mile away in what answered
+to the "country"; others were leaders in the Dissenting
+and especially the Unitarian worlds.</p>
+
+<p>Walktown was a stronghold of the Unitarians. The
+wealthy Jews of two generations back, men who made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>
+vast fortunes in the black valley of the Irwell, had chosen
+Walktown to dwell in. Their grandsons had found it
+more politic to abjure their ancient faith. A few had become
+Christians,&mdash;at least in name, inasmuch as they
+rented pews at St. Thomas's,&mdash;but others had compromised
+by embracing a faith, or rather a dogma, which
+is simply Judaism without its ritual and ceremonial
+obligations. The Baumanns, the Hildersheimers, the
+Steinhardts, flourished in Walktown.</p>
+
+<p>It was people of this class who supported the magnificent
+concerts in the Free Trade Hall at Manchester,
+who bought the pictures and read the books. They
+had brought an alien culture to the neighbourhood.
+The vicar had two strong elements to contend with,&mdash;for
+his parochial life was all contention,&mdash;on the one
+hand the Lancashire natives, on the other the wealthy
+Jewish families.</p>
+
+<p>The first were hard, uncultured people, hating everything
+that had not its origin and end in commerce.
+They disliked Mr. Byars because he was a gentleman,
+because he was educated, and because&mdash;so they considered&mdash;the
+renting of the pews in his church gave them
+the right to imagine that he was in some sense a paid
+servant of theirs.</p>
+
+<p>The second class of parishioners were less Philistine,
+certainly, but even more hopeless from the parish priest's
+point of view. In their luxurious houses they lived an
+easy, selfish, and sensual life, beyond his reach, surrounded
+by a wall of indifferentism, and contemptuous
+of all that was not tangible and material. At times the
+rector and the curate confessed to each other that
+these people seemed more utterly lost than any others
+with whom the work of the Church brought them in
+contact.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Byars was a widower with one son, now at Oxford,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>
+and one daughter, Helena, who was engaged to Basil
+Gortre, the curate.</p>
+
+<p>About six o'clock the vicar sat in his study with a pile
+of letters before him. The room was a comfortable,
+bookish place, panelled in pitch pine where the walls
+were not covered with shelves of theological and philosophical
+works.</p>
+
+<p>The arm-chairs were not new, but they invited repose;
+the large engraving over the pipe-littered mantel was a
+fine autotype of Giacomo's <i>St. Emilia</i>. The room was
+brightly lit with electric light.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Byars was a man of medium height, bald, his fine,
+domed forehead adding to his apparent age, and wore a
+pointed grey beard and moustache. He was an epitome
+of the room around him.</p>
+
+<p>The volumes on his shelves were no ancient and musty
+tomes, but represented the latest and newest additions to
+theological thought.</p>
+
+<p>Lathom and Edersheim stood together with Renan's
+<i>Vie de J�sus</i> and Clermont-Ganneau's <i>Recueil d'Arch.
+Orient</i>, and Westcott guarded them all.</p>
+
+<p>The ivory crucifix which stood on the writing-table
+completed the impression of the man.</p>
+
+<p>Ambrose Byars at forty-five was thoroughly acquainted
+with modern thought and literature. His
+scholarship was tempered with the wisdom of an active
+and clear-headed man of the world. His life and habits
+were simple but unbigoted, and his broad-mindedness
+never obscured his unalterable convictions. He lived,
+as he conceived it his duty to live in his time and place,
+in thorough human and intellectual correspondence
+with his environment, but one thought, one absolute certainty
+informed his life.</p>
+
+<p>As year by year his knowledge grew greater, and the
+scientific criticism of the Scriptures undermined the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>
+faith of weaker and less richly endowed minds, he only
+found in each discovery a more vivid proof of the truth
+of the Incarnation and the Resurrection.</p>
+
+<p>It was his habit in discussions to reconcile all apparently
+conflicting antichristian statements and weave
+them into the fabric of his convictions. He held that,
+even scientifically, historically, and materially, the evidence
+for the Resurrection was too strong to be ever
+overthrown. And beyond these intellectual evidences
+he knew that Christ must have risen from the dead, because
+he himself had found Christ and was found in
+Him.</p>
+
+<p>His attitude was a careful one with all its conciseness.
+An anecdote illustrates this.</p>
+
+<p>One day, when walking home from a meeting of the
+School Board, of which he was a member, he had met a
+parishioner named Baxter, the proprietor of a small engineering
+work in the district. The man, who never
+came to church, on what he called "principle," but spent
+his Sundays in bed with a sporting paper, was one of
+those half-educated people who condemn Christianity
+by ridiculing the Old Testament stories.</p>
+
+<p>They walked together, Baxter quoting the <i>Origin of
+Species</i>, which he knew from a cheap epitomised handbook.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you really think, Mr. Byars," he had said, "do
+you really believe, after Darwin's discovery, that we
+were made by a sort of conjuring trick by a Supreme
+Power? Seven days of cooking, so to speak, and then a
+world! Why, it's childish to expect thinking people to
+believe it. We are simply evolved by scientific evolution
+out of the prim�val protoplasm."</p>
+
+<p>"Very possibly," said the vicar; "and who made the
+protoplasm, Mr. Baxter?"</p>
+
+<p>The man was silent for a minute. "Then, Mr. Byars,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
+he said at length, "you do not believe the Old Testament&mdash;the
+Adam and Eve part, for instance. You do
+not believe the Book on which your creed is founded."</p>
+
+<p>"There are such things as allegories," he had answered.
+"The untutored brain must be taught the truth in such
+a way as it can receive it."</p>
+
+<p>The vicar lit his pipe and began to open his letters
+with a slight sigh. Of all men, he sometimes felt, he was
+the least possible one for Walktown. For twelve years
+he had worked there, and he seemed to make little headway.
+He longed for an educated congregation. Here
+methods too vulgar for his temperament seemed to be
+the only ones.</p>
+
+<p>The letters were all from applicants for the curacy
+which Gortre's impending departure would shortly leave
+vacant.</p>
+
+<p>"It will be a terrible wrench to lose Basil," he said to
+himself; "but it must be. He will have his chance
+and be far happier in London, in more congenial environment.
+He would never be a great success in Walktown.
+He has tried nobly, but the people won't understand
+him. They would never like him; he's too much
+of a gentleman. How they all hate breeding in Walktown!
+There is nothing for it, I can see. I must get
+an inferior man this time. An inferior man will go
+down with them better here. I only hope he will be a
+really good fellow. If he isn't, it will be Jerrold over
+again&mdash;vulgar cabals against me, and all the women in
+the place quarrelling and taking sides."</p>
+
+<p>He read letter after letter, and saw, with a humorous
+shrug of disgust, that he would have little difficulty in
+engaging the "inferior" man of his thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>The best men would not come to the North. Men of
+family with decent degrees, Oxford men, Cambridge
+men, accustomed to decent society and intellectual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>
+friends, knew far too much to accept a title in the Manchester
+district.</p>
+
+<p>The applications were numerous enough, but obviously
+from second-rate men, or at any rate from men who appeared
+to be so at first glance.</p>
+
+<p>A Durham graduate, 40, with five children, begged
+earnestly for the �120 a year which was all Mr. Byars
+could offer. A few young men from theological colleges
+wanting titles, a Dublin B.A., announcing himself
+as "thoroughly Protestant in views"&mdash;they were a weary
+lot. A non-collegiate student from Oxford with a second
+class in Theology, a Manchester Grammar-School
+boy, whose father lived at Higher Broughton, seemed to
+promise the best. He would be able to get on with the
+people, probably. "I suppose I must have him, accent
+and all," the vicar said with a sigh, "though I suppose it's
+prejudice to dislike the lessons read with the Lancashire
+broad 'a' and short 'o.' St. Paul probably spoke with
+a terrible local twang! and yet, I don't know, he
+was too great to be vulgar; one doesn't like to think
+that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Byars was certainly a difficult person for his congregation
+to appreciate.</p>
+
+<p>He picked up the letter and was re-reading it when
+the door opened and his daughter came in.</p>
+
+<p>Helena Byars was a tall girl, largely made and yet
+slender. Her hair was luxuriant and of a traditional
+"heroine" gold. She was dressed with a certain richness,
+though soberly enough, a style which, with its
+slight hint of austerity, accentuated a quiet and delicate
+charm. So one felt on meeting her for the first time.
+Sweet-faced she was and with an underlying seriousness
+even in her times of laughter. Her mouth was rather
+large, her nose straight and beautifully chiselled. The
+eyes were placid, intelligent, but without keenness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+There was an almost matronly dignity about her quiet and
+yet decided manner.</p>
+
+<p>The vicar looked up at her with a smile, thinking how
+like her mother the girl was&mdash;that grave and gracious
+lady who looked out of the picture by the door, St. Cecilia
+in form and face. "Eh, but Helena she favours
+her mother," Hinchcliffe, the sexton, had said with the
+frank familiarity of the Lancashire workman soon after
+Mrs. Byars's funeral four years ago.</p>
+
+<p>"I've brought <i>Punch</i>, father," she said, "it's just come.
+Leave your work now and enjoy yourself for half an
+hour before dinner. Basil will be here by the time you're
+finished."</p>
+
+<p>She stirred the fire into a bright glow, and, singing
+softly to herself, left the study and went into the dining-room
+to see that the table looked inviting for the coming
+meal.</p>
+
+<p>About seven o'clock Gortre arrived, and soon afterwards
+the three sat down to dine. It was a simple meal,
+some fish, cold beef, and a pudding, with a bottle of beer
+for the curate and a glass of claret for the vicar. The
+housemaid did not wait upon them, for they found the
+meal more intimate and enjoyable without her.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got some news," said Gortre. "The great question
+of domicile is settled. You know there is no room
+in the clergy-house at St. Mary's. Moreover, Father
+Ripon thought it well that I should live outside. He
+wanted one of the assistant clergy, at least, to be in constant
+touch with lay influences, he said when I saw him."</p>
+
+<p>"What have you arranged, dear?" said Helena.</p>
+
+<p>"Something very satisfactory, I think," he answered.
+"My first thought was to take ordinary rooms in Bloomsbury.
+It would be near St. Mary's and the schools.
+Then I thought of chambers in one of the Inns of
+Court. At any rate I wrote to Harold Spence to ask his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
+advice. He was at Merton with me, you know, lived
+on the same staircase in 'Stubbins,' and is just one of
+the best fellows in the world. We haven't corresponded
+much during the last three years, but I knew a letter to
+the New Oxford and Cambridge would always find him.
+So I wrote up. He's been University Extension lecturing
+for a time, you know, and writing too. Now he tells
+me that he is writing leaders for the <i>Daily Wire</i> and
+doing very well. I'll read you what he says."</p>
+
+<p>He took a letter from his pocket, glanced down it for
+the paragraph he wanted, and began to read:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>... "&mdash;and I am delighted to hear that you have
+at last made up your mind to leave the North country
+and have accepted this London curacy. I asked Marsh,
+our ecclesiastical editor, about St. Mary's last night. He
+tells me that it is a centre of very important Church work,
+and has some political and social influence. Of all the
+'ritualistic' parishes&mdash;I use the word as a convenient
+label&mdash;it is thought to be the sanest. Here you will
+have a real chance. I know something of the North, and
+came in contact with all sorts and conditions of people
+when I was lecturing on the French Revolution round
+Liverpool and Manchester for the Extension. They are
+not the people for you to succeed with, either socially or
+from a clergyman's point of view&mdash;at least, that's my
+opinion, old man. You ask me about rooms. I have a
+proposal to make to you in this regard. I am now living
+in Lincoln's Inn with a man named Hands&mdash;Cyril
+Hands. You may know his name. He is a great arch�ologist,
+was a young Cambridge professor. For three
+years now he has been working for The Palestine Exploring
+Society. He is in charge of all the excavations
+now proceeding near Jerusalem, and constantly making
+new and valuable Biblical discoveries."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The vicar broke in upon the reading. "Hands!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>
+he said; "a most distinguished man! His work is daily
+adding to our knowledge in a marvellous way. He has
+just recently discovered some important inscriptions at
+El-Edham�yeh&mdash;Jeremiah's grotto, you know, the place
+which is thought may be Golgotha, you know. But go
+on, I'm sorry to interrupt."</p>
+
+<p>Gortre continued:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Hands is only at home for three months in the year,
+when he comes to the annual meeting of the Society and
+recuperates at the seaside. His rooms, however, are always
+kept for him. The chambers we have are old-fashioned
+but very large. There are three big bedrooms,
+a huge sitting-room, two smaller rooms and a sort of
+kitchen, all inside the one oak. I have a bedroom and
+one small room where I write. Hands has only one bedroom
+and uses the big general room. Now if you care to
+come and take up your abode in the Inn with us, I can
+only say you will be heartily welcome. Your share of
+the expenses would be less than if you lived alone in
+rooms as you propose, and you would be far more comfortable.
+You could have your study to work in. Our
+laundress is nearly always about, and there is altogether
+a pleasant suggestion of Oxford and the old days in the
+life we lead. Of course I need hardly tell you that we
+are very quiet and quite untroubled by any of the rowdy
+people, all of whom live away from our court altogether.
+You would be only five minutes' walk from St. Mary's.
+What do you think of the idea? Let me know and I will
+give you all further details. I hope you will decide on
+joining us. I should find it most pleasant.&mdash;Ever yours,</p>
+
+<p class="pinset10">
+"<span class="smcap">Harold Masterman Spence</span>."
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>"An extremely genial letter," said the vicar. "I suppose
+you'll accept, Basil? It will be pleasant to be with
+friends like that."</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it just a little, well, bachelor?" said Helena
+rather nervously.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre smiled at the question.</p>
+
+<p>"No, dear," he said. "I don't think you need be
+afraid. I know the sort of visions you have. The sort
+of thing in <i>Pendennis</i>, isn't it? The boy sent out for
+beer to the nearest public-house, and breakfast at twelve
+in the morning, cooked in the sitting-room. You don't
+know Harold. He is quite <i>bourgeois</i> in his habits, despite
+his intellect, hates a muddle, always dresses extremely
+well, and goes to church like any married man.
+He was a great friend of the Pusey House people at
+Oxford."</p>
+
+<p>"The days when you couldn't be a genius without being
+dirty are gone," said the vicar. "I am glad of it. I
+was staying at St. Ives last summer, where there is
+quite an artistic settlement. All the painters carried
+golf-clubs and looked like professional athletes. They
+drink Bohea in Bohemia now."</p>
+
+<p>Gortre talked a little about his plans for the future.
+He had a sympathetic audience. During the four years
+of his curacy at Walktown he had become very dear to
+Mr. Byars. He had arrived in the North from Oxford,
+after a year at Litchfield Theological College, just about
+the time that Mrs. Byars had died. His help and sympathy
+at such a time had begun a friendship with his
+vicar that had been firmly cemented as the time went on,
+and had finally culminated in his engagement to Helena.
+He had been the vicar's sole intellectual companion all
+this time, and his loss would be irreparable. But both
+men felt that his departure was inevitable. The younger
+man's powers were stifled and confined in the atmosphere
+of the place. He had private means of his own, and belonged
+to an old West-country family, and, try as he would
+he failed to identify himself socially with the Walktown<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
+people. His engagement to Helena Byars had increased
+his unpopularity. He would be far happier at St. Mary's
+in London, at the famous High Church, where he would
+find all those exterior accompaniments of religion to
+which he had been accustomed, and which, though he
+did not exalt the shadow into the substance, always made
+him happier when he was surrounded by them.</p>
+
+<p>He was to wait a year and then he would be married.
+There were no money obstacles in the way and no reason
+for further delay. Only the vicar looked forward with a
+sort of horror to his future loneliness, and tried to put
+the thought from him whenever it came.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner Helena left the two men to smoke alone
+in the study. There was a concert in the Town Hall to
+which she was going with Mrs. Pryde, the solicitor's
+wife, a neighbour. Her friend's carriage called for her
+about eight, and Gortre settled down for a long talk with
+the vicar on parochial affairs.</p>
+
+<p>They sat on each side of the dancing fire, with coffee
+on a table between them, quietly enjoying the after-dinner
+pipe, the best and finest of the five cardinal pipes
+of the day. It was a comfortable scene. The room was
+lighted only by a single electric reading-lamp with a
+green shade, and the firelight flickered and played over
+the dull gold and crimson of the books on the shelves,
+and threw red lights on the shining ivory of the sculptured
+Christ.</p>
+
+<p>"I daresay this North-country man will do all right,"
+said the vicar. "He will be more popular than you,
+Basil."</p>
+
+<p>The young man sighed. "God knows I have tried
+hard enough to win their confidence," he said sadly,
+"but it was not to be. I <i>can't</i> get in touch with them,
+vicar. They dislike my manners, my way of speaking&mdash;everything
+about me. Even the landlady of my rooms<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
+distrusts me because I decline to take tea with my evening
+chop, and charges me three shillings a week extra
+because I have what she calls 'late dinner'!"</p>
+
+<p>The vicar laughed. "At any rate," he said, "you
+have got hold of Leef, your landlord; he comes to
+church regularly now."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Leef illustrates more than any one else how impossible
+it is, for me, at any rate, to do much good.
+Last week he said to me, 'It's a fine thing, religion, when
+you've got it at last, Mr. Gortre. When I look back
+at my unregenerate years I wonder at myself. Religion
+tells me to give up certain things. It only 'armonises
+with the experience of any sensible man of my age. I
+don't want to drink too much, for instance. My health
+is capital, and I'm not such a fool as to spoil it. To
+think that all those years I never knew that religion was
+as easy as winking, and with a certainty of everlasting
+glory afterwards. I'll always back you up, Mr. Gortre,
+in saying that religion's the finest thing out.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, dear boy, you will be in another environment
+altogether soon. It's no use being discouraged. <i>Tot
+homines, quot sententi�</i>! We can't alter these things.
+The Essenes used to speak disrespectfully enough of
+'Ye men of Galilee,' no doubt. Sometimes I think I
+would rather have these stubborn people than those of
+the South, men as easy and <i>commode</i> as an old glove, and
+worth about as much. Have you seen the <i>Guardian</i>
+to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I haven't. I've been at the schools all the
+morning, visiting in Timperley Street till Evensong,
+home for a wash, and then here."</p>
+
+<p>"I see Schuabe is going to address a great meeting in
+the Free Trade Hall on the Education Bill."</p>
+
+<p>"Then he is at Mount Prospect?"</p>
+
+<p>"He arrived from London yesterday."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The two men looked at each other in silence. Mr.
+Byars seemed ill at ease. His foot tapped the brass rail
+of the fender. Then, a sure sign of disturbance with
+him, he put down his pipe, which was nearly smoked
+away, and took a cigarette from a box on the table and
+smoked in short, quick puffs.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre's face became dark and gloomy. The light
+died out of it, the kindliness of expression, which was
+habitual, left his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"We have never really told each other what we think
+of Schuabe and how we think of him, vicar," he said.
+"Let us have it out here and now while we are thinking
+of him and while we have the opportunity."</p>
+
+<p>"In a question of this sort," said Mr. Byars, "confidences
+are extremely dangerous as a rule, but between
+you and me it is different. It will clear our brains mutually.
+God forbid that you and I, in our profession as
+Christ's priests and our socio-political position as clerks
+in Holy Orders, should bear rancour against any one.
+But we are but human. Possibly our mutual confidence
+may help us both."</p>
+
+<p>There was a curious eagerness in his manner which was
+reflected by that of the other. Both were conscious of
+feelings ill in accord with their usual open and kindly attitude
+towards the world. Each was anxious to know if
+the other coincided with himself.</p>
+
+<p>Men are weak, and there is comfort in community.</p>
+
+<p>"From envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness&mdash;"
+said Gortre.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Lord deliver us," replied the vicar gravely.</p>
+
+<p>There was a tense silence for a time, only broken by
+the dropping of the coals in the grate. The vicar was
+the first to break it.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll sum up my personal impression of the man for
+and against," he said.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Gortre nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"There can be no doubt whatever," said Mr. Byars,
+"that among all the great North-country millionaires&mdash;men
+of power and influence, I mean&mdash;Schuabe stands
+first and pre-eminent. His wealth is enormous to begin
+with. Then he is young&mdash;can hardly be forty yet, I
+should say. He belongs to the new generation. In
+Walktown he stands entirely alone. Then his brilliancy,
+his tremendous intellectual powers, are equalled by few
+men in England. His career at Oxford was marvellous,
+his political life, only just beginning as it is, seems to
+promise the very highest success. His private life, as
+far as we know&mdash;and everything about the man seems to
+point to an ascetic temperament and a refined habit&mdash;is
+without grossness or vice of any kind. In appearance he
+is one of the ten most striking-looking men in England.
+His manners are fascinating."</p>
+
+<p>Gortre laughed shortly, a mirthless, bitter laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"So far," he said, "you have drawn a picture which
+approaches the ideal of what a strong man should be.
+And I grant you every detail of it. But let me complete
+it. You will agree with me that mine also is true."</p>
+
+<p>His voice trembled a little. Half unconsciously his
+eyes wandered to the crucifix on the writing-table. In
+the red glow of the fire, which had now ceased to crackle
+and flame, the drooping figure on the cross showed distinct
+and clear in all its tremendous appeal to the hearts
+of mankind. Tears came into the young man's eyes, his
+face became drawn and pained. When he spoke, his
+voice was full of purpose and earnestness.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, with an unusual gesture of the hand,
+"Schuabe is all that you say. In a hard, godless, and
+material age he is an epitome of it. The curse of indifferentism
+is over the land. Men have forgotten that this
+world is but an inn, a sojourning place for a few hours. O<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
+fools and blind! The terror of death is always with
+them. But this man is far more than this&mdash;far, far
+more. To him has been given the eye to see, the heart
+to understand. <i>He, of all men living in England to-day, is
+the mailed, armed enemy of Our Lord.</i> No loud-mouthed
+atheist, sincere and blatant in his ignorance, no honest
+searcher after truth. All his great wealth, all his attainments,
+are forged into one devilish weapon. He is already,
+and will be in the future, the great enemy of
+Christianity. Oh, I have read his book! 'Even now
+there are many antichrists.' I have read his speeches
+in Parliament. I know his enormous influence over
+those unhappy people who call themselves 'Secularists.'
+Like Diocletian, like Julian, <i>he hates Christ</i>. He is no
+longer a Jew. Judaism is nothing to him&mdash;one can reverence
+a Montefiore, admire an Adler. His attacks on
+the faith are something quite different to those of other
+men. As his skill is greater, so his intention is more evil.
+And yet how helpless are we who know! The mass of
+Christians&mdash;the lax, tolerant Christians&mdash;think he is a kind
+of John Morley. They praise his charities, his efforts for
+social amelioration. They quote, 'And God fulfils Himself
+in many ways.' I say again, O fools and blind!
+They do not know, they cannot see, this man as he is at
+heart, accursed and antichrist!" His voice dropped,
+tired with its passion and vehemence. He continued in
+a lower and more intimate vein:</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think I am a fanatic, vicar? Am I touched
+with monomania when I tell you that of late I have
+thought much upon the prophetic indications of the
+coming of 'the Man of Sin,' the antichrist in Holy
+Writ? Can it be, I have asked myself, as I watch the
+comet-like brilliance of this man's career, can it be that
+in my own lifetime and the lifetime of those I love, the
+veritable enemy of our Saviour is to appear? Is this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>
+man, this Jew, he of whom it is said in Jacob's words,
+'Dan shall be a serpent by the way, an adder in the
+path'&mdash;the tribe of which <i>not one</i> was sealed?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are overwrought, Basil," said the elder man
+kindly. "You have let yourself dwell too much on this
+man and his influences. But I do not condemn you. I
+also have had my doubts and wonderings. The outside
+world would laugh at us and people who might be moved
+as we are at these things. But do we not live always
+with, and by help of, the Unseen? God alone knows
+the outcome of the trend of these antichristian influences,
+of which, I fear, Schuabe is the head. The
+Fathers are clear enough on the subject, and the learned
+men of medi�val times also. Let me read to you."</p>
+
+<p>He got up from his arm-chair, glad, it seemed, at
+opportunity of change and movement, and went to the
+book-shelves which lined the wall. His scholar's interest
+was aroused, his magnificent reading and knowledge of
+Christian history and beliefs engaged and active.</p>
+
+<p>He dipped into book after book, reading extracts
+from them here and there.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen. Marchantius says the ship of the Church
+will sink and be lost in the foam of infidelity, and be
+hidden in the blackness of that storm of desolation
+which shall arise at the coming of Antichrist. 'The
+sun shall be darkened and the stars shall fall from
+heaven.' He means, of course, the sun of faith, and
+that the stars, the great ecclesiastical dignitaries, shall
+fall into apostasy. But, he goes on to say, the Church
+will remain unwrecked, she will weather the storm and
+come forth '<i>beautiful as the moon, terrible as an army
+with banners</i>.'"</p>
+
+<p>His voice was eager and excited, his face was all alight
+with the scholar's eagerness, as he took down book after
+book with unerring instinct to illustrate his remarks.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Opinions as to the nature and personality of Antichrist
+have been very varied," he continued. "Some of
+the very early Christian writers say he will be a devil in
+a phantom body, others that he will be an incarnate
+demon, true man and true devil, in fearful and diabolic
+parody of the Incarnation of our Lord. There is a
+third view also. That is that he will be merely a desperately
+wicked man, acting upon diabolic inspirations,
+just as the saints act upon Divine inspirations.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen to St. John Damascene upon the subject.
+He is very express. 'Not as Christ assumed humanity,
+so will the Devil become human; but the Man will receive
+all the inspiration of Satan, and will suffer the
+Devil to take up his abode within him.'"</p>
+
+<p>Gortre, who was listening with extreme attention,
+made a short, sharp exclamation at this last quotation.</p>
+
+<p>He had risen from his seat and stood by the mantel-shelf,
+leaning his elbow upon it.</p>
+
+<p>One of the ornaments of the mantel was a head of
+Christ, photographed on china, from Murillo, and held
+in a large silver frame like a photograph frame.</p>
+
+<p>Just as the vicar had finished reading there came a
+sudden knock at the door. It startled Gortre, and he
+moved suddenly. His elbow slid along the marble of
+the shelf and dislodged the picture, which fell upon the
+floor and was broken into a hundred pieces, crashing
+loudly upon the fender.</p>
+
+<p>The housemaid, who had knocked, stood for a moment
+looking with dismay upon the breakage. Then she
+turned to the vicar.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">"Mr. Schuabe from Mount Prospect to see you, sir,"
+she said. "I've shown him into the drawing-room."</p>
+<hr class="r20" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></h2>
+
+<h4>"I THINK HE IS A GOOD MAN"</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="smcap">he</span> servant had turned on the lights in the drawing
+room, where a low fire still glowed red upon
+the hearth, and left Constantine Schuabe alone to await
+the vicar's arrival.</p>
+
+<p>On either side of the fireplace were heavy hangings of
+emerald and copper woven stuff, a present to Helena from
+an uncle, who had bought them at Benares. Schuabe
+stood motionless before this background.</p>
+
+<p>The man was tall, above the middle height, and the
+heavy coat of fur which he was wearing increased the
+impression of proportioned size, of massiveness, which
+was part of his personality. His hair was a very dark
+red, smooth and abundant, of that peculiar colour
+which is the last to show the greyness of advancing
+age. His features were Semitic, but without a trace
+of that fulness, and sometimes coarseness, which often
+marks the Jew who has come to the middle period of life.
+The eyes were large and black, but without animation, in
+ordinary use and wont. They did not light up as he
+spoke, but yet the expression was not veiled or obscured.
+They were coldly, terribly <i>aware</i>, with something of the
+sinister and untroubled regard one sees in a reptile's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The jaw, which dominated the face and completed
+its remarkable <i>ensemble</i>, was very massive, reminding
+people of steel covered with olive-coloured parchment.
+Handsome was hardly the word which fitted him. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
+was a strikingly handsome man; but that, like "distinction,"
+was only one of the qualities which made up his
+personality. Force, power&mdash;the relentless and conscious
+power suggested by some great marine engine&mdash;surrounded
+him in an almost indescribable way. They
+were like exhalations. Most people, with the casual
+view, called him merely indomitable, but there were
+others who thought they read deeper and saw something
+evil and monstrous about the man; powerless to give an
+exact and definite reason for the impression, and dubious
+of voicing it.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, now and again, two or three people would
+speak of him to each other without reserve, and on such
+occasions they generally agreed to this feeling of the sinister
+and malign, in much the same manner as the vicar
+and his curate had been agreeing but half an hour before
+his arrival at the house.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened with a quick click of the handle, and
+the vicar entered with something of suddenness. One
+might almost have supposed that he had lingered, hesitant,
+in the hall, and suddenly nerved himself for this
+encounter.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Byars advanced to take the hand of his visitor.
+Beside the big man he seemed shrunken and a little ineffectual.
+He was slightly nervous in his manner also,
+for Basil's impassioned and terror-ridden words still rang
+in his ears and had their way with him.</p>
+
+<p>The coincidence of the millionaire's arrival was altogether
+too sudden and <i>bizarre</i>.</p>
+
+<p>When they had made greetings, cordial enough on the
+surface, and were seated on either side of the fire,
+Schuabe spoke at once upon the object of his visit.</p>
+
+<p>"I have come, Mr. Byars," he said, in a singularly
+clear, vibrant voice, "to discuss certain educational proposals
+with you. As you probably know, just at present<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>
+I am taking a very prominent part in the House of Commons
+in connection with the whole problem of primary
+education. Within the last few weeks I have been in
+active correspondence with your School Board, and you
+will know all about the scholarships I have founded.</p>
+
+<p>"But I am now coming to you to propose something of
+the same sort in connection with your own Church schools.
+My opinions on religious matters are, of course, not
+yours. But despite my position I have always recognised
+that, with whatever means, both the clergy and my
+own party are broadly working towards one end.</p>
+
+<p>"Walktown provides me with very many thousands a
+year, and it is my duty in some way or another to help
+Walktown. My proposal is roughly this: I will found
+and endow two yearly scholarships for two boys in the
+national schools. The money will be sufficient, in the
+first instance, to send them to one of the great Northern
+Grammar Schools, and afterwards, always providing that
+the early promise is maintained, to either university.</p>
+
+<p>"My only stipulation is this. The tests shall be purely
+and simply intellectual, and have nothing whatever to do
+with the religious teaching of the schools, with which I
+am not in sympathy. Nevertheless, it is only fair that a
+clever boy in a Church school should have the same opportunities
+as in a secular school. I should tell you that
+I have made the same offer to the Roman Catholic school
+authorities and it has been declined."</p>
+
+<p>The vicar listened with great attention. The offer
+was extremely generous, and showed a most open-minded
+determination to put the donor's personal prejudices out
+of the question. There could be no doubt as to his answer&mdash;none
+whatever.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear sir," he said, "your generosity is very great.
+I see your point about the examinations. Religion is to
+form no part of them exactly. But by the time one of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
+our boys submits himself for examination we should
+naturally hope that he would already be so firmly fixed
+in Christian principles that his after-career would have
+no influence upon his faith. Holding the opinions that
+you do, your offer shows a great freedom from any prejudice.
+I hope I am broad-minded enough to recognise
+that philanthropy is a fine, lovely thing, despite the banner
+under which the philanthropist may stand. I accept
+your generous offer in the spirit that it is made.
+Of course, the scheme must be submitted to the managers
+of the schools, of whom I am chief, but the matter
+practically lies with me, and my lead will be followed."</p>
+
+<p>"I am only too glad," said the big man, with a sudden
+and transforming smile, "to help on the cause of knowledge.
+All the details of the scheme I will send you in
+a few days, and now I will detain you no longer."</p>
+
+<p>He rose to go.</p>
+
+<p>During their brief conversation the vicar had been
+conscious of many emotions. He blamed himself for
+his narrowness and the somewhat fantastic lengths to
+which his recent talk with Gortre had gone. The man
+was an infidel, no doubt. His intellectual attacks upon
+Christian faith were terribly damaging and subversive.
+Still, his love for his fellow-men was sincere, it seemed.
+He attacked the faith, but not the preachers of it. And&mdash;a
+half thought crossed his brain&mdash;he might have been
+sent to him for some good purpose. St. Paul had not
+always borne the name of Paul!</p>
+
+<p>These thoughts, but half formulated in his brain, had
+their immediate effect in concrete action.</p>
+
+<p>"Won't you take off your coat, Mr. Schuabe," he said,
+"and smoke a cigar with me in my study?"</p>
+
+<p>The other hesitated a moment, looked doubtful, and
+then assented. He hung his coat up in the hall and
+went into the other room with the vicar.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>During the conversation in the drawing-room Helena
+had come back from the concert, and Basil, hearing her,
+had left the study and gone to her own private sanctum
+for a last few minutes before saying good-night.</p>
+
+<p>Helena sat in a low chair by the fire sipping a bowl of
+soup which the maid had brought up to her. She was a
+little tired by the concert, where a local pianist had
+been playing a nocturne of Chopin's as if he wanted to
+make it into soup, and the quiet of her own sitting-room,
+the intimate comfort of it all, and the sense of happiness
+that Basil's presence opposite gave her were in delightful
+contrast.</p>
+
+<p>"It was very stupid, dear," she said. "Mrs. Pryde was
+rather trying, full of dull gossip about every one, and the
+music wasn't good. Mr. Cuthbert played as if he was
+playing the organ in church. His touch is utterly unfitted
+for anything except the War March from <i>Athalie</i>
+with the stops out. He knows nothing of the piano. I
+was in a front seat, and I could see his knee feeling
+for the swell all the time. He played <i>the</i> sonata as if
+he was throwing the moonlight at one in great solid
+chunks. I'm glad to be back. How nice it is to sit
+here with you, dearest!&mdash;and how good this Bovril is!"
+she concluded with a little laugh of content and happiness
+at this moment of acute physical and mental ease.</p>
+
+<p>He looked lovingly at her as she lay back in rest and
+the firelight played over her white arms and pale gold
+hair.</p>
+
+<p>"It's wonderful to think," he said, with a little catch
+in his voice, "it's wonderful to me, an ever-recurring
+wonder, to think that some day you and I will always
+be together for all our life, here and afterwards. What
+supreme, unutterable happiness God gives to His children!
+Do you know, dear, sometimes as I read prayers
+or stand by the altar, I am filled with a sort of rapture<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>
+of thankfulness which is voiceless in its intensity.
+Tennyson got nearer to expressing it than any one in
+that beautiful <i>St. Agnes' Eve</i> of his&mdash;a little gem which,
+with its simplicity and fervour, is worth far more than
+Keats's poem with all its literary art."</p>
+
+<p>"It is good to feel like that sometimes," she answered;
+"but it is well, I think, not to get into the way of <i>inducing</i>
+such feelings. The human brain is such a sensitive
+thing that one can get into the way of drugging it
+with emotion, as it were. I think I am tinged a little
+with the North-country spirit. I always think of Newman's
+wonderful lines&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'The thoughts control that o'er thee swell and throng;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They will condense within the soul and turn to purpose strong.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But he who lets his feelings run in soft luxurious flow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shrinks when hard service must be done, and faints at every blow.'<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>I only quote from memory. But you look tired, dear
+boy; you are rather white. Have you been overworking?"</p>
+
+<p>He did not answer immediately.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he said slowly, "but I've been having a long
+talk with the vicar. We were talking about Mr. Schuabe
+and his influence. Helena, that man is the most active
+of God's enemies in England. Almost when I was
+mentioning his name, by some coincidence, or perhaps
+for some deeper, more mysterious, psychical reason which
+men do not yet understand, the maid announced him.
+He had come to see your father on business, and&mdash;don't
+think I am unduly fanciful&mdash;the Murillo photograph,
+the head of Christ, on the mantel-shelf, fell down and
+was broken. He is here still, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Helena; "Mr. Schuabe is in the study
+with father. But, Basil dear, it's quite evident to me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>
+that you've been doing too much. Do you know that I
+look upon Mr. Schuabe as a really <i>good</i> man! I have
+often thought about him, and even prayed that he may
+learn the truth; but God has many instruments. Mr.
+Schuabe is sincere in his unbelief. His life and all his
+actions are for the good of others. It is terrible&mdash;it is
+deplorable&mdash;to know he attacks Christianity; but he is
+tolerant and large-minded also. Yes, I should call him
+a good man. He will come to God some day. God
+would not have given him such power over the minds
+and bodies of men otherwise."</p>
+
+<p>Gortre smiled a little sadly,&mdash;a rather wan smile, which
+sat strangely upon his strong and hearty face&mdash;, but he
+said no more.</p>
+
+<p>He knew that his attitude was illogical, perhaps it
+could be called bigoted and intolerant&mdash;a harsh indictment
+in these easy, latitudinarian days; but his conviction
+was an intuition. It came from within, from
+something outside or beyond his reason, and would
+not be stifled.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, dear," he said, "perhaps it is as you say.
+Nerves which are overwrought, and a system which is
+run down, certainly have their say, and a large say, too,
+in one's attitude towards any one. Now you must go to
+bed. I will go down and say good-night to the rector
+and Mr. Schuabe&mdash;just to show there's no ill-feeling;
+though, goodness knows, I oughtn't to jest about the
+man. Good-night, sweet one; God bless you. Remember
+me also in your prayers to-night."</p>
+
+<p>She kissed him in her firm, brave way&mdash;a kiss so
+strong and loving, so pure and sweet, that he went
+away from that little room of books and <i>bric-�-brac</i> as if
+he had been sojourning in some shrine.</p>
+
+<p>As Basil came into the study he found Mr. Byars and
+Schuabe in eager, animated talk. A spirit decanter had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
+been brought in during his absence, and the vicar was
+taking the single glass of whisky-and-water he allowed
+himself before going to bed. Basil, who was in a singularly
+alert and observant mood, noticed that a glass of
+plain seltzer water stood before the millionaire.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre's personal acquaintance with Schuabe was of
+the slightest. He had met him once or twice on the
+platform of big meetings, and that was all. A simple
+curate, unless socially,&mdash;and Schuabe did not enter into
+the social life of Walktown, being almost always in
+London,&mdash;he would not be very likely to come in the
+way of this mammoth.</p>
+
+<p>But Schuabe greeted him with marked cordiality, and
+he sat down to listen to the two men.</p>
+
+<p>In two minutes he was fascinated, in five he realised,
+with a quick and unpleasant sense of inferiority, how
+ignorant he was beside these two. In Schuabe the vicar
+found a man whose knowledge was as wide and scholarship
+as profound as his own.</p>
+
+<p>From a purely intellectual standpoint, probably Gortre
+and Schuabe were more nearly on a level, but in pure
+knowledge he was nowhere. He wondered, as he listened,
+if the generation immediately preceding his own
+had been blessed with more time for culture, if the
+foundation had been surer and more comprehensive,
+when they were <i>alumni</i> of the "loving mother" in the
+South.</p>
+
+<p>They were discussing arch�ological questions connected
+with the Holy Land.</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe possessed a profound and masterly knowledge
+of the whole Jewish background to the Gospel
+picture, not merely of the arch�ology, which in itself is
+a life study, but of the essential characteristics of Jewish
+thought and feeling, which is far more.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, every now and again the conversation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
+turned towards a direction that, pursued, would have
+led to controversy. But, with mutual tact, the debatable
+ground was avoided. That Christ was a historic
+fact Schuabe, of course, admitted and implied, and
+when the question of His Divinity seemed likely to
+occur he was careful and adroit to avoid any discussion.</p>
+
+<p>To the young man, burning with the zeal of youth,
+this seemed a pity. Unconsciously, he blamed the vicar
+for not pressing certain points home.</p>
+
+<p>What an opportunity was here! The rarity of such a
+visit, the obvious interest the two men were beginning
+to take in each other&mdash;should not a great blow for
+Christ be struck on such an auspicious night? Even if
+the protest was unavailing, the argument overthrown,
+was it not a duty to speak of the awful and eternal realities
+which lay beneath this vivid and brilliant interchange
+of scholarship?</p>
+
+<p>His brain was on fire with passionate longing to
+speak. But, nevertheless, he controlled it. None knew
+better than he the depth and worth of the vicar's character.
+And he felt himself a junior; he had no right to
+question the decision of his superior.</p>
+
+<p>"You have missed much, Mr. Byars," said Schuabe,
+as he arose to go at last, "in never having visited
+Jerusalem. One can get the knowledge of it, but never
+the colour. And, even to-day, the city must appear, in
+many respects, exactly as it did under the rule of Pilate.
+The Fellah women sell their vegetables, the camels
+come in loaded with roots for fuel, the Bedouin, the
+Jews with their long gowns and slippers&mdash;I wish you could
+see it all. I have eaten the meals of the Gospels, drunk
+the red wine of Saron, the spiced wine mixed with honey
+and black pepper, the 'wine of myrrh' mentioned in
+the Gospel of Mark. I have dined with Jewish
+tradesmen and gone through the same formalities of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
+hand-washing as we read of two thousand years ago; I
+have seen the poor ostentatiously gathered in out of the
+streets and the best part of the meal given them for a
+self-righteous show. And yet, an hour afterwards, I
+have sat in a <i>caf�</i> by King David's Tower and played
+dice with Turkish soldiers armed with Martini rifles!"</p>
+
+<p>The vicar seemed loath to let his guest go, though the
+hour was late, but he refused to stay longer. Mr. Byars,
+with a somewhat transparent eagerness, mentioned that
+Gortre's road home lay for part of the way in the same
+direction as the millionaire's. He seemed to wish the
+young man to accompany him, almost, so Basil thought,
+that the charm of his personality might rebuke him for
+his tirade in the early part of the evening.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">Accordingly, in agreement with the vicar's evident
+wish, but with an inexplicable ice-cold feeling in his
+heart, he left the house with Schuabe and began to walk
+with him through the silent, lamp-lit streets.</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></h2>
+
+<h4>THE SMOKE CLOUD AT DAWN</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="smcap">he</span> two men strode along without speaking for
+some way. Their feet echoed in the empty
+streets.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Schuabe turned to Basil. "Well, Mr.
+Gortre," he said, "I have given you your opportunity.
+Are you not going to speak the word in season after
+all?"</p>
+
+<p>The young man started violently. Who was this man
+who had been reading his inner thoughts? How could
+his companion have fathomed his sternly repressed
+desire as he sat in the vicarage study? And why did
+he speak now, when he knew that some chilling influence
+had him in its grip, that his tongue was tied, his
+power weakened?</p>
+
+<p>"It is late, Mr. Schuabe," he said at length, and very
+gravely. "My brain is tired and my enthusiasm chilled.
+Nor are you anxious to hear what I have to say. But
+your taunt is ungenerous. It almost seems as if you are
+not always so tolerant as men think!"</p>
+
+<p>The other laughed&mdash;a cold laugh, but not an unkindly
+one. "Forgive me," he said, "one should not jest with
+conviction. But I should like to talk with you also.
+There are lusts of the brain just as there are lusts of the
+flesh, and to-night I am in the mood and humour for
+conversation."</p>
+
+<p>They were approaching a side road which led to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
+Gortre's rooms. Schuabe's great stone house was still a
+quarter of a mile away up the hill.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not go home yet," said Schuabe, "come to my
+house, see my books, and let us talk. Make friends
+with the mammon of unrighteousness, Mr. Gortre!
+You are disturbed and unstrung to-night. You will not
+sleep. Come with me."</p>
+
+<p>Gortre hesitated for a moment, and then continued
+with him. He was hardly conscious why he did so, but
+even as he accepted the invitation his nerves seemed
+recovered as by some powerful tonic. A strange confidence
+possessed him, and he strode on with the air
+and manner of a man who has some fixed purpose in his
+brain.</p>
+
+<p>And as he talked casually with Schuabe, he felt
+towards him no longer the cold fear, the inexplicable
+shrinking. He regarded him rather as a vast and powerful
+enemy, an evil, sinister influence, indeed, but one
+against which he was armed with an armour not his
+own, with weapons forged by great and terrible hands.</p>
+
+<p>So they entered the drive and walked up among the
+gaunt black trees towards the house.</p>
+
+<p>Mount Prospect was a large, castellated modern building
+of stone. In a neighbourhood where architectural
+monstrosities abounded, perhaps it outdid them all in
+its almost brutal ugliness and vulgarity. It had been
+built by Constantine Schuabe's grandfather.</p>
+
+<p>The present owner was little at Walktown. His Parliamentary
+and social duties bound him to London, and
+when he had time for recreation the newspapers announced
+that he had "gone abroad," and until he was
+actually seen again in the midst of his friends his disappearances
+were mysterious and complete.</p>
+
+<p>In London he had a private set of rooms at one of the
+great hotels.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But despite his rare visits, the hideous stone palace in
+the smoky North held all the treasures which he himself
+had collected and which had been left to him by his
+father.</p>
+
+<p>It was understood that at his death the pictures and
+library were to become the property of the citizens of
+Manchester, held in trust for them by the corporation.</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe took a key from his pocket and opened the
+heavy door in the porch.</p>
+
+<p>"I always keep the house full of servants," he said,
+"even when I am away, for a dismantled house and caretakers
+are horrible. But they will be all gone to bed
+now, and we must look after ourselves."</p>
+
+<p>Opening an inner door, they passed through some
+heavy padded curtains, which fell behind them with a
+dull thud, and came out into the great hall.</p>
+
+<p>Ugly as the shell of the great building was, the interior
+was very different.</p>
+
+<p>Here, set like a jewel in the midst of the harsh, forbidding
+country, was a treasure-house of ordered beauty
+which had few equals in England.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre drew a long, shuddering breath of pleasure as
+he looked round. Every �sthetic influence within him
+responded to what he saw. And how simple and severe
+it all was! Simply a great domed hall of white marble,
+brilliantly lit by electric light hidden high above their
+heads. On every side slender columns rose towards the
+dome, beyond them were tall archways leading to the
+rooms of the house; dull, formless curtains, striking no
+note of colour, hung from the archways.</p>
+
+<p>In the centre of the vast space, exactly under the dome,
+was a large pool of still green water, a square basin with
+abrupt edges, having no fountain nor gaudy fish to break
+its smoothness.</p>
+
+<p>And that was all, literally all. No rugs covered the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>
+tesselated floor, not a single seat stood anywhere. There
+was not the slightest suggestion of furniture or habitation.
+White, silent, and beautiful! As Gortre stood
+there, he knew, as if some special message had been given
+him, that he had come for some great hidden purpose,
+that it had been foreordained. His whole soul seemed
+filled with a holy power, unseen powers and principalities
+thronged round him like sweet but awful friends.</p>
+
+<p>He turned inquiringly towards his host. Schuabe's
+face was very pale; the calm, cruel eyes seemed agitated;
+he was staring at the priest. "Come," he said in a voice
+which seemed to be without its usual confidence; "come,
+this place is cold&mdash;I have sometimes thought it a little
+too bare and fantastic&mdash;come into the library; let us eat
+and talk."</p>
+
+<p>He turned and passed through the pillars on the right.
+Gortre followed him through the dark, heavy curtains
+which led to the library.</p>
+
+<p>They found themselves in an immense low-ceilinged
+room. The floor was covered with a thick carpet of dull
+blue, and their feet made no sound as they passed over
+it towards the blazing fire, which glowed in an old oak
+framework of panelling and ingle-nook brought from an
+ancient manor-house in Norfolk.</p>
+
+<p>At one end of the room was a small organ, cased,
+modern as the mechanism was, in priceless Renaissance
+painted panels from Florence and set in a little octagonal
+alcove hung with white and yellow.</p>
+
+<p>The enormous writing-table of dark wood stood in
+front of the fireplace and was covered with books and
+papers. By it was a smaller circular table laid with a
+white cloth and shining glass and silver for a meal.</p>
+
+<p>"My valet is in bed," said Schuabe; "I hate any one
+about me at night, and I prefer to wait on myself then.
+'From the cool cisterns of the midnight air my spirit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
+drinks repose.' If you will wait here a few moments I
+will go and get some food. I know where to find some.
+Pray amuse yourself by looking at my books."</p>
+
+<p>He left the room noiselessly, and Basil turned towards
+the walls. From ceiling to floor the immense room was
+lined with shelves of enamelled white wood, here and
+there carved with tiny florid bunches of fruit and flowers&mdash;Jacobean
+work it seemed.</p>
+
+<p>A few pictures here and there in spaces between the
+shelves&mdash;the hectic flummery of a Whistler nocturne; a
+woman <i>avec cerises</i>, by Manet; a green silk fan, painted
+with <i>f�tes gallantes</i>, by Conder&mdash;alone broke the many-coloured
+monotony of the books.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre had, from his earliest Oxford days, been a
+lover of books and a collector in a moderate, discriminating
+way. As a rule he was roused to a mild enthusiasm
+by a fine library. But as his practised eye ran over the
+shelves, noting the beauty and variety of the contents,
+he was unmoved by any special interest. His brain, still,
+so it seemed, under some outside and compelling instinct
+or influence, was singularly detached from ordinary interests
+and rejected the books' appeal.</p>
+
+<p>Close to where he stood the shelves were covered with
+theological works. M�ller's <i>Lectures on the Vedanta
+Philosophy</i>, Romane's <i>Reply to Dr. Lightfoot</i>, De la
+Saussaye's <i>Manual</i>, stood together. His hand had been
+wandering unconsciously over the books when it was
+suddenly arrested, and stopped on a familiar black binding
+with plain gold letters. It was an ordinary reference
+edition of the Holy Bible, the "pearl" edition from the
+Oxford University Press.</p>
+
+<p>There was something familiar and homely in the little
+dark volume, which showed signs of constant use. A few
+feet away was a long shelf of Bibles of all kinds, rare editions,
+expensive copies bound up with famous commentaries&mdash;all
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
+the luxuries and <i>�ditions de luxe</i> of Holy Writ.
+But the book beneath his fingers was the same size and
+shape as the one which stood near his own bedside in
+his rooms&mdash;the one which his father had given him when
+he went to Harrow, with "Flee youthful lusts" written on
+the fly-leaf in faded ink. It was homelike and familiar.</p>
+
+<p>He drew it out with a half smile at himself for choosing
+the one book he knew by heart from this new wealth
+of literature.</p>
+
+<p>Then a swift impulse came to him.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre could not be called a superstitious man. The
+really religious temperament, which, while not rejecting
+the aids of surface and symbol, has seen far below them,
+rarely is "superstitious" as the word has come to be
+understood.</p>
+
+<p>The familiar touch, the pleasant sensation of the limp,
+rough leather on his finger-balls gave him a feeling of
+security. But that very fact seemed to remind him that
+some danger, some subtle mental danger, was near. Was
+this Bible sent to him? he wondered. Were his eyes and
+hands <i>directed</i> to it by the vibrating, invisible presences
+which he felt were near him? Who could say?</p>
+
+<p>But he took the book in his right hand, breathed a
+prayer for help and guidance&mdash;if it might so be that God,
+who watched him, would speak a message of help&mdash;and
+opened it at random.</p>
+
+<p>He was about to make a trial of that old medi�val
+practice of "searching"&mdash;that harmless trial of faith
+which a modern hard-headed cleric has analysed so
+cleverly, so completely, and so entirely unsatisfactorily.</p>
+
+<p>He opened the book, with his eyes fixed in front of
+him, and then let them drop towards it. For a moment
+the small type was all blurred and indistinct, and then
+one text seemed to leap out at him.</p>
+
+<p>It was this&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+"TAKE YE HEED, WATCH AND PRAY: FOR YE KNOW
+NOT WHEN THE TIME IS."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>This, then, was his message! He was to <i>watch</i>, to
+pray, for the time was at hand when&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>The curtain slid aside, and Schuabe entered with a
+tray. He had changed his morning coat for a long
+dressing-gown of camel's-hair, and wore scarlet leather
+slippers.</p>
+
+<p>Basil slipped the Bible back into its place and turned
+to face him.</p>
+
+<p>"I live very simply," he said, "and can offer you
+nothing very elaborate. But here is some cold chicken,
+a watercress salad, and a bottle of claret."</p>
+
+<p>They sat down on opposite sides of the round table
+and said little. Both men were tired and hungry. After
+he had eaten, the clergyman bent his head for a second
+or two in an inaudible grace, and made the sign of the
+Cross before he rose from his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Symbol!" said Schuabe, with a cold smile, as he saw
+him.</p>
+
+<p>The truce was over.</p>
+
+<p>"What is that Cross to which all Christians bow?" he
+continued. "It was the symbol of the water-god of the
+Gauls, a mere piece of their iconography. The Ph&#339;nician
+ruin of Gigantica is built in the shape of a cross;
+the Druids used it in their ceremonies; it was Thor's
+hammer long before it became Christ's gibbet; it is used
+by the pagan Icelanders to this day as a magic sign in
+connection with storms of wind. Why, the symbol of
+Buddha on the reverse of a coin found at Ugain is the
+same cross, the 'fylfot' of Thor. The cross was carved
+by Brahmins a thousand years before Christ in the caves
+of Elephanta. I have seen it in India with my own
+eyes in the hands of Siva Brahma and Vishnu! The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
+worshipper of Vishnu attributes as many virtues to it as
+the pious Roman Catholic here in Salford to the Christian
+Cross. There is the very strongest evidence that
+the origin of the cross is phallic! The <i>crux ansata</i> was
+the sign of Venus: it appears beside Baal and Astarte!"</p>
+
+<p>"Very possibly, Mr. Schuabe," said Gortre, quietly.
+"Your knowledge on such points is far wider than mine;
+but that does not affect Christianity in the slightest."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not! Who ever said it did? But this
+reverence for the cross, the instrument of execution on
+which an excellent teacher, and, as far as we know, a
+really good man, suffered, angers me because it reminds
+me of the absurd and unreasoning superstitions which
+cloud the minds of so many educated men like yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah," said Gortre, quietly, "now we are 'gripped.'
+We have come to the point."</p>
+
+<p>"If you choose, Mr. Gortre," Schuabe answered; "you
+are an intellectual man, and one intellectual man has a certain
+right to challenge another. I was staying with Lord
+Haileybury the other day, and I spent two whole mornings
+walking over the country with the Bishop of London,
+talking on these subjects. He very ably endeavoured to
+bring physical and psychological science into a single
+whole. But all he seemed to me to prove was this, crystallised
+into an axiom or at least a postulate. <i>Conscious
+volition is the ultimate source of all force.</i> It is his belief
+that behind the sensuous and phenomenal world which
+gives it form, existence, and activity, lies the ultimate
+invisible, immeasurable power of Mind, conscious Will,
+of Intelligence, analogous to our own; and&mdash;mark this
+essential corollary&mdash;<i>that man is in communication with it</i>,
+and that was positively all he could do for me! I met
+him there easily enough, but when he tried to prove a
+<i>revelation</i>&mdash;Christianity&mdash;he utterly broke down. We
+parted very good friends, and I gave him a thousand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+pounds for the East London poor fund. But still, say
+what you will to me. I am here to listen."</p>
+
+<p>He looked calmly at the young man with his unsmiling
+eyes. He held a Russian cigarette in his fingers, and he
+waved it with a gentle gesture of invitation as if from an
+immeasurable superiority.</p>
+
+<p>And as Gortre watched him he knew that here was a
+brain and intelligence far keener and finer than his own.
+But with all that certainty he felt entirely undismayed,
+strangely uplifted.</p>
+
+<p>"I have a message for you, Mr. Schuabe," he began,
+and the other bowed slightly, without irony, at his words.
+"I have a message for you, one which I have been sent
+here&mdash;I firmly believe&mdash;to deliver, but it is not the message
+or the argument that you expect to hear."</p>
+
+<p>He stopped for a short time, marshalling his mental
+forces, and noticing a slight but perceptible look of surprise
+in his host's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"I know you better than you imagine, sir," he said
+gravely, "and not as many other good and devout Christians
+see you. I tell you here to-night with absolute certainty
+that you are the active enemy of Christ&mdash;I say
+<i>active</i> enemy."</p>
+
+<p>The face opposite became slightly less tranquil, but the
+voice was as calm as ever.</p>
+
+<p>"You speak according to your lights, Mr. Gortre," he
+said. "I am no Christian, but there is much good in
+Christianity. My words and writings may have helped
+to lift the veil of superstition and hereditary influences
+from the eyes of many men, and in that sense I am an
+enemy of the Christian faith, I suppose. My sincerity is
+my only apology&mdash;if one were needed. You speak with
+more harshness and less tolerance than I should have
+thought it your pleasure or your duty to use."</p>
+
+<p>Gortre rose. "Man," he cried, with sudden sternness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
+"I <i>know! You hate our Lord</i>, and would work Him
+evil. You are as Judas was, for to-night it is given me to
+read far into your brain."</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe rose quickly from his chair and stood facing
+him. His face was pallid, something looked out of his
+eyes which almost frightened the other.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you know?" he cried as if in a swift stroke of
+pain. "Who&mdash;?" He stopped as if by a tremendous effort.</p>
+
+<p>Some thought came to reassure him.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen," he said. "I tell you, paid priest as you are,
+a blind man leading the blind, that a day is coming when
+all your boasted fabric of Christianity will disappear.
+It will go suddenly, and be swept utterly away. And
+you, you shall see it. You shall be left naked of your
+faith, stripped and bare, with all Christendom beside
+you. Your pale Nazarene shall die amid the bitter
+laughter of the world, die as surely as He died two thousand
+years ago, and no man or woman shall resurrect Him.
+You know nothing, but you will remember my words of
+to-night, until you also become as nothing and endure
+the inevitable fate of mankind."</p>
+
+<p>He had spoken with extraordinary vehemence, hissing
+the words out with a venom and malice, general rather
+than particular, from which the Churchman shrunk,
+shuddering. There was such unutterable <i>conviction</i> in
+the thin, evil voice that for a moment the pain of it was
+like a spasm of physical agony.</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe had thrown down the mask; it was even as
+Gortre said, the soul of Iscariot looked out from those
+eyes. The man saw the clergyman's sudden shrinking.</p>
+
+<p>The smile of a devil flashed over his face. Gortre
+had turned to him once more and he saw it. And as he
+watched an awful certainty grew within him, a thought
+so appalling that beside it all that had gone before sank
+into utter insignificance.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He staggered for a moment and then rose to his full
+height, a fearful loathing in his eyes, a scorn like a whip
+of fire in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe blanched before him, for he saw the truth in
+the priest's soul.</p>
+
+<p>"As the Lord of Hosts is my witness," cried Gortre
+loudly, "I know you now for what you are! <span class="smcap">You
+know that Christ is God!</span>"</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe shrank into his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Antichrist!</span>" pealed out the accusing voice.
+"You know the truth full well, and, knowing, in an
+awful presumption you have dared to lift your hand
+against God."</p>
+
+<p>Then there was a dead silence in the room. Schuabe
+sat motionless by the dying fire.</p>
+
+<p>Very slowly the colour crept back into his cheeks.
+Slowly the strength and light entered his eyes. He
+moved slightly.</p>
+
+<p>At last he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Go," he said. "Go, and never let me see your face
+again. You have spoken. Yet I tell you still that such
+a blinding blow shall descend on Christendom that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He rose quickly from his chair. His manner changed
+utterly with a marvellous swiftness.</p>
+
+<p>He went to the window and pulled aside the curtain.
+A chill and ghostly dawn came creeping into the library.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us make an end of this," he said quietly and
+naturally. "Of what use for you and me, atoms that we
+are, to wrangle and thunder through the night over an infinity
+in which we have neither part nor lot? Come, get
+you homewards and rest, as I am about to do. The
+night has been an unpleasant dream. Treat it as such.
+We differ on great matters. Let that be so and we will
+forget it. You shall have a friend in me if you will."</p>
+
+<p>Gortre, hardly conscious of any voluntary movements,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
+his brain in a stupor, the arteries all over his body beating
+like little drums, took the hat and coat the other
+handed to him, and stumbled out of the house.</p>
+
+<p>It was about five o'clock in the morning, raw, damp,
+and cold.</p>
+
+<p>With a white face, drawn and haggard with emotion, he
+strode down the hill. The keen air revived his physical
+powers, but his brain was whirling, whirling, till connected
+thought was impossible.</p>
+
+<p>What was it? What was the truth about that nightmare,
+that long, horrid night in the warm, rich room?
+His powers were failing; he must see a doctor after
+breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>When he reached the foot of the hill, and was about to
+turn down the road which led to his rooms, he stopped
+to rest for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>From far behind the hill, over the dark, silhouetted
+houses of the wealthy people who lived upon it, a huge,
+formless pall of purple smoke was rising, and almost
+blotting out the dawn in a Titanic curtain of gloom.
+The feeble new-born sun flickered redly through it, the
+colour of blood. There was no wind that morning,
+and the fog and smoke from the newly lit factory chimneys
+in the Irwell valley could not be dispersed. It
+crept over the town like doom itself&mdash;menacing, vast,
+unconquerable.</p>
+
+<p>He pulled out his latch-key with trembling hand, and
+turned to enter his own door.</p>
+
+<p>The cloud was spreading.</p>
+
+<p>"Lighten our darkness," he whispered to himself, half
+consciously, and then fell fainting on the door-step,
+where they found him soon, and carried him in to the
+sick-bed, where he lay sick of a brain-fever a month or
+more.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b"><i>Lighten our darkness!</i></p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></h2>
+
+<h4>A LOST SOUL</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">I</span><span class="smcap">n</span> his great room at the British Museum, great, that
+is, for the private room of an official, Robert Llwellyn
+sat at his writing-desk finishing the last few lines of
+his article on the Hebrew inscription in mosaic, which
+had been discovered at Kefr Kenna.</p>
+
+<p>It was about four in the afternoon, growing dark with
+the peculiarly sordid and hopeless twilight of a winter's
+afternoon in central London. A reading lamp upon the
+desk threw a bright circle of light on the sheet of white
+unlined paper covered with minute writing, which lay
+before the keeper of Biblical antiquities in the British
+Museum.</p>
+
+<p>The view from the tall windows was hideous and almost
+sinister in its ugliness. Nothing met the eye but
+the gloomy backs of some of the great dingy lodging-houses
+which surround the Museum, bedroom windows,
+back bedrooms with dingy curtains, vulgarly
+unlovely.</p>
+
+<p>The room itself was official looking, but far from uncomfortable.
+There were many book-shelves lining the
+walls. Over them hung large-framed photographs and
+drawings of inscriptions. On a stand by itself, covered
+with a glass shade, was a duplicate of Dr. Schick's model
+of the Haram Area during the Christian occupation of
+Jerusalem.</p>
+
+<p>A dull fire glowed in the large open fireplace.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn wrote a final line with a sigh of relief and
+then leaned far back in his swivel chair. His face was
+gloomy, and his eyes were dull with some inward communing,
+apparently of a disturbing and unpleasant kind.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened noiselessly (all the dwellers in the
+mysterious private parts of the Museum walk without
+noise, and seem to have caught in their voices something
+of that almost religious reverence emanating from
+surroundings out of the immemorial past), and Lambert,
+the assistant keeper and secretary, entered.</p>
+
+<p>He drew up a chair to the writing-desk.</p>
+
+<p>"The firman has been granted!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>A quick interest shone on Professor Llwellyn's face.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" he said, "it has come at last, then, after all
+these months of waiting. I began to despair of the Turkish
+Government. I never thought it would be granted.
+Then the Society will really begin to excavate at last in
+the prohibited spots! Really that is splendid news,
+Lambert. We shall have some startling results. Results,
+mind you, which will be historical, historical! I doubt
+but that the whole theory of the Gospel narrative will
+have to be reconstructed during the next few years!"</p>
+
+<p>"It is quite possible," said Lambert. "But, on the
+other hand, it may happen that nothing whatever is
+found."</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn nodded. Then a sudden thought seemed to
+strike him. "But how do you know of this, Lambert?"
+he said, "and how has it happened?"</p>
+
+<p>Lambert was a pleasant, open-faced fellow, young, and
+with a certain air of distinction. He laughed gaily, and
+returned his chief's look of interest with an affectionate
+expression in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" he said, "I have heard a great deal, sir, and I
+have some thing to tell you which I am very happy about.
+It is gratifying to bring you the first news. Last night I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
+was dining with my uncle, Sir Michael Manichoe, you
+know. The Home Secretary was there, a great friend of
+my uncle's. You know the great interest he takes in the
+work of the Exploration Society, and his general interest
+in the Holy Land?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, of course," said Llwellyn. "He's the leader of
+the uncompromising Protestant party in the House; owes
+his position to it, in fact. He breakfasts with the Septuagint,
+lunches off the Gospels, and sups with Revelations.
+Well?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is owing to his personal interest in the work," continued
+Lambert, "that the Sultan has granted the firman.
+After dinner he took me aside, and we had a longish talk.
+He was very gracious, and most eager to hear of all our
+recent work here, and additions to the collections in our
+department. I was extremely pleased, as you may imagine.
+He spoke of you, sir, as the greatest living
+authority&mdash;wouldn't hear of Conrad Schick or Clermont-Ganneau
+in the same breath with you. He went on to
+say in confidence, and he hinted to me that I had his
+permission to tell you, though he didn't say as much in
+so many words, that they are going to offer you knighthood
+in a few days!"</p>
+
+<p>A sudden flush suffused the face of the elder man.
+Then he laughed a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Your news is certainly unexpected, my dear boy," he
+said, "and, for my part, knighthood is no very welcome
+thing personally. But it would be idle to deny that I'm
+pleased. It means recognition of my work, you see. In
+that way only, it is good news that you have brought."</p>
+
+<p>"That's just it, Professor," the young man answered
+enthusiastically. "That's exactly it. Sir Robert Llwellyn,
+or Mr. Llwellyn, of course, cannot matter to you
+personally. But it <i>is</i> a fitting and graceful recognition of
+the <i>work</i>. It is a proper thing that the greatest living<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+authority on the antiquities and history of Asia Minor
+should be officially recognised. It encourages all of us,
+you see, Professor."</p>
+
+<p>The young man's generous excitement pleased Llwellyn.
+He placed his hand upon his shoulder with a
+kindly, affectionate gesture.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment a messenger knocked and entered with
+a bundle of letters, which had just arrived by the half-past-four
+post, and, with a congratulatory shake of the
+hand, Lambert left his chief to his correspondence.</p>
+
+<p>The great specialist, when he had left the room, rose
+from his chair, went towards the door with swift, cat-like
+steps, and locked it. Then he returned to the desk,
+opened a deep drawer with a key which he drew from
+his watch-pocket, and took a silver-mounted flask of
+brandy from the receptacle. He poured a small dose of
+brandy into the metal cup and drank it hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p>Then he leaned back once more in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>Professor Llwellyn's face was familiar to all readers of
+the illustrated press. He was one of the few famous
+<i>savants</i> whose name was a household word not only to his
+colleagues and the learned generally, but also to the great
+mass of the general public.</p>
+
+<p>In every department of effort and work there are one or
+two men whose personality seems to catch the popular
+eye.</p>
+
+<p>His large, clean-shaven face might have belonged to a
+popular comedian; his portly figure had still nothing
+of old age about it. He was sprightly and youthful in
+manner despite his fat. The small, merry, green eyes&mdash;eyes
+which had yet something furtive and "alarmed" in
+them at times&mdash;stood for a concrete personification of
+good humour. His somewhat sensual lips were always
+smiling and jolly on public occasions. His enormous
+erudition and acknowledged place among the learned of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
+Europe went so strangely with his appearance that the
+world was pleased and tickled by the paradox.</p>
+
+<p>It was a fine thing to think that the spectacled Dry-as-dust
+was gone. That era of animated mummy was
+over, and when The World read of Professor Llwellyn at
+a first night of the Lyceum, or the guest of honour at the
+Savage Club, it forgot to jeer at his abstruse erudition.</p>
+
+<p>Scholars admitted his scholarship, and ordinary men
+and women welcomed him as <i>homme du monde</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The Professor replaced the flask in the drawer and
+locked it. His hand trembled as he did so. The light
+which shone on the white face showed it eloquent with
+dread and despair. Here, in the privacy of the huge,
+comfortable room, was a soul in an anguish that no
+mortal eyes could see.</p>
+
+<p>The Professor had locked the door.</p>
+
+<p>The letters which the messenger had brought were
+many in number and various in shape and style.</p>
+
+<p>Five or six of them, which bore foreign stamps and
+indications that they came from the Continental antiquarian
+societies, he put on one side to be opened and
+replied to on the morrow.</p>
+
+<p>Then he took up an envelope addressed to him in firm
+black writing and turned it over. On the flap was the
+white, embossed oval and crown, which showed that it
+came from the House of Commons. His florid face became
+paler than before, the flesh of it turned grey, an unpleasant
+sight in so large and ample a countenance, as he
+tore it open. The letter ran as follows:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="inright">
+"<span class="smcap">House of Commons.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Llwellyn</span>,&mdash;I am writing to you now to say
+that I am quite determined that the present situation
+shall not continue. You must understand, finally, that
+my patience is exhausted, and that, unless the large sum<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>
+you owe me is repaid within the next week, my solicitors
+have my instructions, which are quite unalterable, to proceed
+in bankruptcy against you without further delay.</p>
+
+<p>"The principal and interest now total to the sum of
+fourteen thousand pounds. Your promises to repay, and
+your innumerable requests for more time in which to do
+so, now extend over a period of three years. I have
+preserved all your letters on the subject at issue between
+us, and I find that, so far from decreasing your indebtedness
+when your promises became due, you have almost
+invariably asked me for further sums, which, in foolish
+confidence, as I feel now, I have advanced to you.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be superfluous to point out to you what
+bankruptcy would mean to you in your position. Ruin
+would be the only word. And it would be no ordinary
+bankruptcy. I have a by no means uncertain idea where
+these large sums have gone, and my knowledge can hardly
+fail to be shared by others in London society.</p>
+
+<p>"I have still a chance to offer you, however, and, perhaps,
+you will find me by no means the tyrant you think.</p>
+
+<p>"There are certain services which you can do me, and
+which, if you fall in with my views, will not only wipe off
+the few thousands of your indebtedness, but provide you
+with a capital sum which will place you above the necessity
+for any such financial man&#339;uvres in the future as
+your&mdash;shall I say <i>infatuation</i>?&mdash;has led you to resort to
+in the past.</p>
+
+<p>"If you care to lunch with me at my rooms in the
+Hotel Cecil, at two o'clock, the day after to-morrow&mdash;Friday&mdash;we
+may discuss your affairs quietly. If not, then
+I must refer you to my solicitors entirely.</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">
+"Yours sincerely,<br />
+<span style="margin-left:10em">"<span class="smcap">Constantine Schuabe.</span>"</span>
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The big man gave a horrid groan&mdash;half snarl, half<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
+groan&mdash;the sound which comes from a strong animal desperate
+and at bay.</p>
+
+<p>He crossed over to the fireplace and pushed the letter
+down into a glowing cavern among the coals, holding it
+there with the poker until it was utterly consumed and
+fluttered up the chimney from his sight in a sheet of ash&mdash;the
+very colour of his relaxed and pendulous cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>He opened another letter, a small, fragile thing written
+on mauve paper, in a large, irregular hand&mdash;a woman's
+hand:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="inright">
+
+"<span class="smcap">15 Bloomsbury Court Mansions.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Bob</span>&mdash;I shall expect you at the flat to-night
+at eleven, <i>without fail</i>. You'd better come, or things
+which you won't like will happen.</p>
+
+<p>"You've just <i>got</i> to come.</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">
+<span style="margin-left:10em"><span class="smcap">Gertrude</span></span>."
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>He put this letter into his pocket and began to walk
+the room in long, silent strides.</p>
+
+<p>A little after five he put on a heavy fur coat and left
+the now silent and gloomy halls of the Museum.</p>
+
+<p>The lamps of Holborn were lit and a blaze of light
+came from Oxford Circus, where the winking electric advertisements
+had just begun their work on the tops of the
+houses.</p>
+
+<p>A policeman saluted the Professor as he passed, and
+was rewarded by a genial smile and jolly word of greeting,
+which sent a glow of pleasure through his six feet.</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn walked steadily on towards the Marble Arch
+and Edgeware Road. The continual roar of the traffic
+helped his brain. It became active and able to think,
+to plan once more. The steady exercise warmed his
+blood and exhilarated him.</p>
+
+<p>There began to be almost a horrid pleasure in the stress
+of his position. The danger was so immediate and fell;
+the blow would be so utterly irreparable, that he was near<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
+to enjoying his walk while he could still consider the
+thing from a detached point of view.</p>
+
+<p>Throughout life that had always been his power. A
+strange resilience had animated him in all chances and
+changes of fortune.</p>
+
+<p>He was that almost inhuman phenomenon, a sensualist
+with a soul.</p>
+
+<p>For many years, while his name became great in Europe
+and the solid brilliancy of his work grew in lustre as he
+in age, he had lived two lives, finding an engrossing joy
+in each.</p>
+
+<p>The lofty scientific world of which he was an ornament
+had no points of contact with that other and unspeakable
+half-life. Rumours had been bruited, things said in
+secret by envious and less distinguished men, but they
+had never harmed him. His colleagues hardly understood
+them and cared nothing. His work was all-sufficient;
+what did it matter if smaller people with forked
+tongues hissed horrors of his private life?</p>
+
+<p>The other circles&mdash;the lost slaves of pleasure&mdash;knew
+him well and were content. He came into the night-world
+a welcome guest. They knew nothing of his work
+or fame beyond dim hintings of things too uninteresting
+for them to bother about.</p>
+
+<p>He turned down the Edgeware Road and then into
+quiet Upper Berkeley Street, a big, florid, prosperous-looking
+man, looking as though the world used him well
+and he was content with all it had to offer.</p>
+
+<p>His house was but a few doors down the street and he
+went up-stairs to dress at once. He intended to dine at
+home that night.</p>
+
+<p>His dressing-room, out of which a small bedroom
+opened, was large and luxurious. A clear fire glowed
+upon the hearth; the carpet was soft and thick. The
+great dressing-table with its three-sided mirror was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
+covered with brushes and ivory jars, gleaming brightly in
+the rays of the little electric lights which framed the
+mirror. A huge wardrobe, full of clothes neatly folded
+and put away, suggested a man about town, a dandy with
+many sartorial interests. An arm-chair of soft green
+leather, stamped with red-gold pomegranates, stood by a
+small black table stencilled with orange-coloured bees.
+On the table stood a cigarette-box of finely plaited cream-coloured
+straw, woven over silver and cedar-wood, and
+with Llwellyn's initials in turquoise on one lid.</p>
+
+<p>He threw off his coat and sank into the chair with a
+sigh of pleasure at the embracing comfort of it. Then
+his fingers plunged into the tea which filled the box on
+the table and drew out a tiny yellow cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>He smoked in luxurious silence.</p>
+
+<p>He had already half forgotten the menacing letter from
+Constantine Schuabe, the imperative summons to the flat
+in Bloomsbury Court Mansions. This was a moment of
+intense physical ease. The flavour of his saffron Salonika
+cigarette, a tiny glass of garnet-coloured <i>cassis</i>
+which he had poured out, were alike excellent. All day
+long he had been at work on a brilliant monograph
+dealing with the new Hebrew mosaics. Only two other
+living men could have written it. But his work also had
+fallen out of his brain. At that moment he was no more
+than a great animal, soulless, with the lusts of the flesh
+pouring round him, whispering evil and stinging his
+blood.</p>
+
+<p>A timid knock fell upon the door outside. It opened
+and Mrs. Llwellyn came slowly in.</p>
+
+<p>The Professor's wife was a tall, thin woman. Her
+untidy clothes hung round her body in unlovely folds.
+Her complexion was muddy and unwholesome; but
+the unsmiling, withered lips revealed a row of fair,
+white, even teeth. It was in her eyes that one read the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
+secret of this lady. They were large and blue, once
+beautiful, so one might have fancied. Now the light
+had faded from them and they were blurred and full of
+pain.</p>
+
+<p>She came slowly up to her husband's chair, placing
+one hand timidly upon it.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, is that you?" he said, not brutally, but with a
+complete and utter indifference. "I shall want some
+dinner at home to-night. I shall be going out about ten
+to a supper engagement. See about it now, something
+light. And tell one of the maids to bring up some hot
+water."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Robert," she said, and went out with no further
+word, but sighing a little as she closed the door quietly.</p>
+
+<p>They had been married fifteen years. For fourteen
+of them he had hardly ever spoken to her except in
+anger at some household accident. On her own private
+income of six hundred a year she had to do what she
+could to keep the house going. Llwellyn never gave
+her anything of the thousand a year which was his salary
+at the Museum, and the greater sums he earned by his
+work outside it. She knew no one, the Professor went into
+none but official society, and indeed but few of his colleagues
+knew that he was a married man. He treated
+the house as a hotel, sleeping there occasionally, breakfasting,
+and dressing. His private rooms were the only
+habitable parts of the house. All the rest was old, faded,
+and without comfort. Mrs. Llwellyn spent most of her
+life with the two servants in the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>She always swept and tidied her husband's rooms herself.
+That afternoon she had built and coaxed the fire
+with her own hands.</p>
+
+<p>She slept in a small room at the top of the house, next
+to the maids, for company.</p>
+
+<p>This was her life.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Over the head of the little iron bedstead of her room
+hung a great crucifix.</p>
+
+<p>That was her hope.</p>
+
+<p>When Llwellyn was rioting in nameless places she
+prayed for him during the night. She prayed for him,
+for herself, and for the two servant girls, very simply&mdash;that
+Heaven might receive them all some day.</p>
+
+<p>The maid brought up some dinner for the Professor&mdash;a
+little soup, a sole, and some <i>camembert</i>.</p>
+
+<p>He ate slowly, and smoked a short light-brown cigar
+with his coffee. Then he bathed, put on evening clothes,
+dressing himself with care and circumspection, and left
+the house.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">In the Edgeware Road he got into a hansom and told
+the man to drive him to Bloomsbury Court Mansions.</p>
+<hr class="r20" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></h2>
+
+<h4>THE WHISPER</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">R</span><span class="smcap">obert Llwellyn</span> paid the cabman outside
+the main gateway which led into the courtyard,
+and dismissed him.</p>
+
+<p>The Court Mansions were but a few hundred yards
+from the British Museum itself, though he never visited
+them in the day time. A huge building, like a great
+hotel, rose skyward in a square. In the quadrangle in
+the centre, which was paved with asphalt, was an ornamental
+fountain surrounded by evergreen plants in tubs.</p>
+
+<p>The Professor strode under the archway, his feet
+echoing in the stillness, and passed over the open space,
+which was brilliantly lit with the hectic radiance of arc
+lamps. He entered one of the doorways, and turning
+to the right of the ground-floor, away from the lift
+which was in waiting to convey passengers to the
+higher storeys, he stopped at No. 15.</p>
+
+<p>He took a latch-key from his pocket, opened the
+door, and entered. It was very warm and close inside,
+and very silent also. The narrow hall was lit by a
+crimson-globed electric lamp. It was heavily carpeted,
+and thick curtains of plum-coloured plush, edged with
+round, fluffy balls of the same colour, hung over the
+doors leading into it.</p>
+
+<p>He hung his hat up on a peg, and stood perfectly
+silent for a moment in the warm, scented air. He could
+hear no sound but the ticking of a French clock. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
+flat was obviously empty; and pulling aside one of the
+curtains, he went into the dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>The place was full of light. Gertrude Hunt, or her
+maid, had, with characteristic carelessness, forgotten to
+turn off the switches. Llwellyn sat down and looked
+around him. How familiar the place was! The casual
+visitor would have recognised at a glance that the occupant
+of the room belonged to the dramatic profession.</p>
+
+<p>Photographs abounded everywhere. The satinwood
+overmantel was crowded with them in heavy frames of
+chased silver. Bold enlargements hung on the crimson
+walls; they were upright, and stacked in disorderly
+heaps upon the grand piano.</p>
+
+<p>All were of one woman&mdash;a dark Jewish girl with eyes
+full of a fixed fascination, a trained regard of allurement.</p>
+
+<p>The eyes pursued him everywhere; bold and inviting,
+he was conscious of their multitude, and moved uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>The dining-table was in a curious litter. Half-empty
+cups of egg-shell china stood upon a tray of Japanese
+lacquer inlaid with ivory and silver; a cake basket held
+pink and honey-coloured bon-bons, among which some
+cigarette ends had fallen. Two empty bottles, which
+had held champagne, stood side by side, cheek by jowl,
+with a gilt tray, on which was a miniature methyl lamp
+and some steel curling tongs.</p>
+
+<p>The arm-chairs were upholstered in pink satin. On
+one of them was a long fawn-coloured tailor-made coat,
+hanging collar downwards over the back. A handful of
+silver and a tiny gun-metal cigarette case had dropped
+out of a pocket on to the seat of the chair.</p>
+
+<p>The whole place reeked with a well-known perfume&mdash;an
+evil, sickly smell of ripe lilies and the acrid smoke of
+Egyptian tobacco. A frilled dressing jacket covered with
+yellowish lace lay in a tumbled heap upon the hearth-rug.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The room would have struck an ordinary visitor with
+a sense of nausea almost like a physical blow. There
+was something sordidly shameless about it. The vulgarest
+and most material of Circes held sway among
+all this gaudy and lavish disorder. The most sober-living
+and innocent-minded man, brought suddenly into
+such a place, would have known it instantly for what it
+was, and turned to fly as from a pestilence.</p>
+
+<p>A week or two before, a picture of this den had appeared
+in one of the illustrated papers. Underneath
+the photograph had been printed&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+"THE BOUDOIR OF ONE OF LONDON'S POPULAR FAVOURITES.<br />
+<br />
+MISS GERTRUDE HUNT AT HOME."<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">Below had been another picture&mdash;"Miss Hunt in her
+new motor-car." Robert Llwellyn had paid four hundred
+pounds for the machine.</p>
+
+<p>The big man seemed to fit into these surroundings
+as a hand into a glove. In his room at the Museum,
+on a platform at the Royal Society, his intellect always
+animated his face. In such places his personality was
+eminent, as his work also.</p>
+
+<p>Here he was changed. Silenus was twin to him; he
+sniffed the perfume with pleasure; he stretched himself
+to the heat and warmth like a great cat. He was
+an integral part of the <i>mise-en-sc�ne</i>&mdash;lost, and arrogant
+of his degradation.</p>
+
+<p>A key clicked in the lock, there was a rustling of silk,
+and Gertrude Hunt swept into the room.</p>
+
+<p>"So you're come to time, then," she said in a deep,
+musical voice, but spoilt by an unpleasing Cockney twang.
+"I'm dead tired. The theatre was crammed; I had to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+sing the <i>Coon of Coons</i> twice. Get me a brandy-and-soda,
+Bob. There's a good boy&mdash;the decanter's in the
+sideboard."</p>
+
+<p>She threw off her long cloak and sank into a chair.
+The sticky grease-paint of the theatre had hardly been
+removed. She looked, as she said, worn out.</p>
+
+<p>They chatted for a few moments on indifferent subjects,
+and she lit a cigarette. When she took it from
+her lips, Llwellyn noticed that the end was crimsoned by
+the paint upon them.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," she said at length, "somehow or other you
+must pay those bills I sent on to you. They <i>must</i> be
+paid. I can't do it. I'm only getting twenty-five
+pounds from the theatre now, and that's just about
+enough to pay my drink bill!"</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn's face clouded. "I'm just about at my last
+gasp myself," he said. "I'm threatened with bankruptcy
+as it is."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, cheer up!" she cried. "Here, have a B. and S.
+I do hate to hear any one talk like that. It gives me the
+hump at once. Now look here, Bob. You know that I
+like you better than any one else. We've been pals for
+seven or eight years now, and I'd rather have you a
+thousand times than the others. You understand that,
+don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>He nodded back at her. His face was pleased at her
+expression of affection, at the kindness of this dancing-girl
+to the great scholar!</p>
+
+<p>"But," she continued, "you know me, and you know
+that I can't go on unless I have what I want all the time.
+And I want a lot, too. If you can't give it me, Bob,
+it must be some one else&mdash;that's all. Captain Parker's
+ready to do anything, any time. He's almost a millionaire,
+you know. Can't you raise any 'oof anyhow?
+If I'd a thousand at once, and another in a week<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
+or two, I could manage for a bit. But I <i>must</i> have a
+river-house at Shepperton. That cat, Lulu Wallace, has
+one, and an electric launch and all. What about your
+German friend&mdash;the M.P.? <i>He's</i> got tons of stuff.
+Touch him for a bit more."</p>
+
+<p>"Had a letter from him this afternoon," said Llwellyn,
+"with a demand for about fourteen thousand that I owe
+him now. Threatens to sell me up. But there was
+something which looked brighter at the end of the letter,
+though I couldn't quite make out what he was driving
+at."</p>
+
+<p>"What was that?"</p>
+
+<p>"The tone of the letter changed; it had been nasty
+before. He said that I could do him a service for which
+he would not only wipe out the old debt, but for which I
+could get a lot more money."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll go to him at once, Bob, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I must. There's no way out of it. I
+can't think, though, how I can do him any service. He's
+a dabbler, an amateur in my own work, but he's not
+going to pay a good many thousands for any help in
+<i>that</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Let it alone till you find out," she said, with the instinctive
+dislike of her class to the prolonged discussion
+of anything unpleasant. She got up and rang the bell
+for her maid and supper.</p>
+
+<p>For some reason Llwellyn could eat nothing. A
+weight oppressed him&mdash;a presage of danger and disaster.
+The unspeakable mental torments that the vicious man
+who is highly educated undergoes&mdash;torments which assail
+him in the very act and article of his pleasures&mdash;have
+never been adequately described. "What a frail
+structure his honours and positions were," he thought
+as the woman chatted of the <i>coulisses</i> and the blackguard
+news of the <i>demi-monde</i>. His indulgent life had acted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
+on the Professor with a dire physical effect. His nerves
+were unstrung and he became childishly superstitious.
+The slightest hint of misfortune set his brain throbbing
+with a horrid fear. The spectre of overwhelming disaster
+was always waiting, and he could not exorcise it.</p>
+
+<p>The two accidental and trivial facts that the knives
+at his place were crossed, and that he spilt the salt as
+he was passing it to his mistress, set him crossing himself
+with nervous rapidity.</p>
+
+<p>The girl laughed at him, but she was interested nevertheless.
+For the moment they were on an intellectual
+level. He explained that the sign of the Cross was said
+to avert misfortune, and she imitated him clumsily.</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn thought nothing of it at the time, but the
+meaningless travesty came back afterwards when he
+thought over that eventful night.</p>
+
+<p>Surely the holy sign of God's pain was never so degraded
+as now.</p>
+
+<p>Their conversation grew fitful and strained. The
+woman was physically tired by her work at the theatre,
+and the dark cloud of menace crept more rapidly into
+the man's brain. The hour grew late. At last Llwellyn
+rose to go.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll get the cash somehow, dear, won't you?" she
+said with tired eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, Gertie," he replied. "I suppose I can get it
+somehow. I'll get home now. If it's a clear night I
+shall walk home. I'm depressed&mdash;it's liver, I suppose&mdash;and
+I need exercise."</p>
+
+<p>"Have a drink before you go?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I've had two, and I can't take spirits at this
+time."</p>
+
+<p>He went out with a perfunctory and uninterested kiss.
+She came to the archway with him.</p>
+
+<p>London was now quite silent in its most mysterious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
+and curious hour. The streets were deserted, but brilliantly
+lit by the long row of lamps.</p>
+
+<p>They stood talking for a moment or two in the quadrangle.</p>
+
+<p>"Queer!" she said; "queer, isn't it, just now? I
+walked back from the Covent Garden ball once at this
+time. Makes you feel lonesome. Well, so long, Bob.
+I shall have a hot bath and go to bed."</p>
+
+<p>The Professor's feet echoed loudly on the flags as he
+approached the open space. Never had he seemed to
+hear the noises of his own progress so clearly before. It
+was disconcerting, and emphasised the fact of his sole
+movement in this lighted city of the dead.</p>
+
+<p>On the island in the centre of the cross-roads he suddenly
+caught sight of a tall policeman standing motionless
+under a lamp. The fellow seemed a figure of metal
+hypnotised by the silence.</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn walked onwards, when, just as he was passing
+the Oxford Music Hall, he became conscious of quick
+footsteps behind him. He turned quickly, and a man
+came up. He was of middle size, with polite, watchful
+eyes and clean shaven.</p>
+
+<p>The stranger put his hand into the pocket of his neat,
+unobtrusive black overcoat and drew out a letter.</p>
+
+<p>"For you, sir," he said in calm, ordinary tones.</p>
+
+<p>The Professor stared at him in uncontrollable surprise
+and took the envelope, opening it under a lamp. This
+was the note. He recognised the handwriting at once.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="inright">
+
+"<span class="smcap">Hotel Cecil.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Llwellyn</span>,&mdash;Kindly excuse the suddenness of
+my request and come down to the Cecil with my valet.
+I have sent him to meet you. I want to settle our business
+to-night, and I am certain that we shall be able to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>
+make some satisfactory arrangement. I know you do
+not go to bed early.&mdash;Most sincerely yours,</p>
+
+<p class="p2b"><span style="margin-left:10em">
+"<span class="smcap">Constantine Schuabe.</span>"</span>
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>"This is a very sudden request," he said to the servant
+rather doubtfully, but somewhat reassured by the friendly
+signature of the note. "Why, it's two o'clock in the
+morning!"</p>
+
+<p>"Extremely sorry to trouble you, sir," replied the
+valet civilly, "but my master's strict orders were that
+I should find you and deliver the note. He told me
+that you would probably be visiting at Bloomsbury
+Court Mansions, so I waited about, hoping to meet you.
+I brought the <i>coup�</i>, sir, in case we should not be able to
+get you a cab."</p>
+
+<p>Following the direction of his glance, Llwellyn saw
+that a small rubber-tired brougham to seat two people
+was coming slowly down the road. The coachman
+touched his hat as the Professor got in, and, turning down
+Charing Cross Road, in a few minutes they drove rapidly
+into the courtyard of the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe had not been established at the Cecil for any
+length of time. Though he owned a house in Curzon
+Street, this was let for a long period to Miss Mosenthal,
+his aunt, and he had hitherto lived in chambers at the
+Albany.</p>
+
+<p>But he found the life at the hotel more convenient and
+suited to his temperament. His suite of rooms was one of
+the most costly even in that great river palace of to-day,
+but such considerations need never enter into his life.</p>
+
+<p>The utter unquestioned freedom of such a life, its entire
+liberation from any restraint or convention, suited
+him exactly.</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn had never visited Schuabe in his private
+apartments before at any time. As he was driven easily<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
+to the meeting he nerved himself for it, summoning up all
+his resolution. He swept aside the enervating influences
+of the last few hours.</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe was waiting in the large sitting-room with
+balconies upon which he could look down upon the embankment
+and the river. It was his favourite among all
+the rooms of the suite.</p>
+
+<p>He looked gravely and also a little curiously at the
+Professor as he entered the room. There was a question
+in his eyes; the guest had a sensation of being measured
+and weighed with some definite purpose.</p>
+
+<p>The greeting was cordial enough. "I am very sorry,
+Llwellyn, to catch you suddenly like this," Schuabe said,
+"but I should like to settle the business between us
+without delay. I have certain proposals to make you,
+and if we agree upon them there will be much to consider,
+as the thing is a big one. But before we talk of
+this let me offer you something to eat."</p>
+
+<p>The Professor had recovered his hunger. The chill
+of the night air, the sudden excitement of the summons,
+and, though he did not realise it, the absence of patchouli
+odours in his nostrils, had recalled an appetite.</p>
+
+<p>The space and air of the huge room, with its high
+roof, was soothing after Bloomsbury Court Mansions.</p>
+
+<p>Supper was spread for two on a little round table by
+the windows. Schuabe ate little, but watched the other
+with keen, detective eyes, talking meanwhile of ordinary,
+trivial things. Nothing escaped him, the little gleam of
+pleasure in Llwellyn's eyes at the freshness of the caviare,
+the Spanish olives he took with his partridge&mdash;rejecting
+the smaller French variety&mdash;the impassive watchful eyes
+saw it all.</p>
+
+<p>It was too late for coffee, Llwellyn said, when the
+man brought it, in a long-handled brass pan from Constantinople,
+but he took a <i>k�mmel</i> instead.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The two men faced each other on each side of the
+table. Both were smoking. For a moment there was
+silence; the critical time was at hand. Then Schuabe
+spoke. His voice was cold and steady and very businesslike.
+As he talked the voice seemed to wrap round
+Llwellyn like steel bands. There was something relentless
+and inevitable about it; bars seemed rising as he
+spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to be quite frank with you, Llwellyn,"
+he said, "and you will find it better to be quite frank
+with me."</p>
+
+<p>He took a paper from the pocket of his smoking jacket
+and referred to it occasionally.</p>
+
+<p>"You owe me now about fourteen thousand pounds?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it is roughly that."</p>
+
+<p>"Please correct me if I am wrong in any point. Your
+salary at the British Museum is a thousand pounds a
+year, and you make about fifteen hundred more."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, about that, but how do you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I have made it my business to know everything,
+Professor. For example, they are about to offer you
+knighthood."</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn stirred uneasily, and the hand which stretched
+out for another cigarette shook a little.</p>
+
+<p>"I need hardly point out to you," the cold words
+went on, and a certain sternness began to enforce them,
+"I need hardly point out that if I were to take certain
+steps, your position would be utterly ruined."</p>
+
+<p>"Bankruptcy need not entirely ruin a man."</p>
+
+<p>"It would ruin you. You see <i>I know where the money
+has gone</i>. Your private tastes are nothing to me, and it
+is not my business if you choose to spend a fortune on a
+cocotte. But in your position, as the very mainspring
+and arm of the Higher Criticism of the Bible, the revelations
+which would most certainly be made would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>
+ruin you irreparably. Your official posts would all go
+at once, your name would become a public scandal everywhere.
+In England one may do just what one likes if
+only one does not in any way, by reason of position or
+attainments, belong to the nation. You <i>do</i> belong to
+the nation. You can never defy public opinion. With
+the ethical point of view I have nothing personally to do.
+But to speak plainly, in the eyes of the great mass of
+English people you would be stamped as an irredeemably
+vicious man, if everything came out. That is what
+they would call you. At one blow everything&mdash;knighthood,
+honour, place&mdash;all would flash away. Moreover,
+you would have to give up the other side of your life.
+There would be no more suppers with Phryne or rides
+to Richmond in the new motor-car."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed, a low, contemptuous laugh which stung.
+Llwellyn's face had grown pale. His large, white fingers
+picked uneasily at the table-cloth.</p>
+
+<p>His position was very clearly shown to him, with
+greater horror and vividness than ever it had come to
+him before, even in his moments of acutest depression.</p>
+
+<p>The overthrow would be indeed utter and complete.
+With the greedy imagination of the sensualist he saw
+himself living in some cheap foreign town, Bruges perhaps,
+or Brussels, upon his wife's small income, bereft
+alike of work and pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>"All you say is true," he murmured as the other made
+an end. "I am in your power. It is best to be plain
+about these things. What is your alternative?"</p>
+
+<p>"My alternative, if you accept it, will mean certain
+changes to you. First of all, it will be necessary for
+you to obtain a year's leave from the British Museum.
+I had thought of asking you to resign your position,
+but that will not be necessary, I think, now. This can
+be arranged with a specialist easily enough. Even if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
+your health does not really warrant it, a word from me
+to Sir James Fyfe will manage that. You will have to
+travel. In return for your services and your absolute secrecy&mdash;though
+when you hear my proposals you will realise
+that perhaps in the whole history of the world never
+was secrecy so important to any man's safety&mdash;I will do
+as follows. I will wipe off your debt at once. I will
+pay you ten thousand pounds in cash this week, and
+during the year, as may be agreed upon between us, I
+will make over forty thousand pounds more to you.
+In all fifty thousand pounds, exclusive of your debt."</p>
+
+<p>His voice had not been raised, nor did it show any
+excitement during this tremendous proposal. The effect
+on Llwellyn was very different. He rose from his
+chair, trembling with excitement, staring with bloodshot
+eyes at the beautiful chiselled face below.</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you <i>mean</i> it?" he said huskily.</p>
+
+<p>The millionaire made a single confirmatory gesture.</p>
+
+<p>Then the whole magnitude and splendour of the offer
+became gradually plain to him in all its significance.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose," he said, "that, as the payment is great,
+the risk is commensurate."</p>
+
+<p>"There will be none if you do what I shall ask properly.
+Only two other men living would do it, and, first and foremost,
+you will have to guard against <i>their</i> vigilance."</p>
+
+<p>"Then, in God's name, what do you ask?" Llwellyn
+almost shouted. The tension was almost unbearable.</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe rose from his seat. For the first time the
+Professor saw that he was terribly agitated. His eyes
+glowed, the apple in his throat worked convulsively.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>You are to change the history of the world!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>He drew Llwellyn into the very centre of the room,
+and held him firmly by the elbows. Tall as the Professor
+was, Schuabe was taller, and he bent and whispered
+into the other's ear for a full five minutes.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There was no sound in the room but the low hissing
+of his sibilants.</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn's face became white, and then ashen grey.
+His whole body seemed to shrink from his clothes; he
+trembled terribly.</p>
+
+<p>Then he broke away from his host and ran to the fireplace
+with an odd, jerky movement, and sank cowering
+into an arm-chair, filled with an unutterable dread.</p>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p>As morning stole into the room the Professor took a
+bundle of bills and acknowledgements from Schuabe
+and thrust them into the fire with a great sob of relief.</p>
+
+<p>Then he turned into a bedroom and sank into the
+deep slumber of absolute exhaustion.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">He did not go to the Museum that day.</p>
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></h2>
+
+<h4>LAST WORDS AT WALKTOWN</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="smcap">he</span> great building of the Walktown national schools
+blazed with light. Every window was a patch of
+vivid orange in the darkness of the walls. The whole
+place was pervaded by a loud, whirring hum of talk and
+laughter and an incredible rattle of plates and saucers.</p>
+
+<p>In one of the classrooms down-stairs Helena Byars,
+with a dozen other ladies of the parish, presided over
+a scene of intense activity. Huge urns of tea ready
+mixed with the milk and sugar, were being carried up
+the stone stairs to the big schoolroom by willing hands.
+Piles of thick sandwiches of ham, breakfast-cups of
+mustard, hundreds of slices of moist wedge-shaped cake
+covered the tables, lessening rapidly as they were carried
+away to the crowded rooms above.</p>
+
+<p>A Lancashire church tea-party was in full swing, for
+this was the occasion when Basil Gortre was to say an
+official farewell to the people among whom he had worked
+in the North.</p>
+
+<p>In the tea-room itself several hundred people were
+making an enormous meal at long tables, under flaring,
+naked gas-lights, which sent shimmering vapours of
+heat up to the pitch-pine beams of the room above.</p>
+
+<p>On the walls of the schoolroom hung long, map-like
+pictures, heavily glazed. Some of them were representations
+of foreign animals, or trees and plants, with the
+names printed below each in thick black type. Others<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
+represented scenes from the life of Christ, and though
+somewhat stiff and wooden, showed clearly the immense
+strides that educational art has taken during the past
+few years.</p>
+
+<p>At one end of the room was a platform running along
+its length. Some palms and tree-ferns in pots, chairs, a
+grand piano, and some music stands, promised a concert
+when tea should be over.</p>
+
+<p>All the ladies of the parish were acting as attendants,
+or presiding at the urns on each table. There could be
+no doubt that the people were in a state of high good
+humour and enjoyment. Every now and again a great
+roar of laughter would break through the prevailing hum
+from one table or another. Despite the almost stifling
+heat and a mixed odour of humanity and ham, which a
+sensitive person might have shrunk from, the rough,
+merry Lancashire folk were happy as may be.</p>
+
+<p>Basil Gortre, in his long, black coat, his skin somewhat
+pale from his long illness, walked from table to
+table, spending a few minutes at each. His face was
+wreathed in perpetual smiles, and roars of laughter followed
+each sally of his wit, a homely cut-and-thrust style
+of humour adapted to his audience. The fat mothers
+of families, wives of prosperous colliers and artisans,
+with their thick gold earrings and magenta frocks,
+beamed motherhood and kindliness at him. The Sunday-school
+teachers giggled and blushed with pleasure
+when he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>The vicar, smiling paternally as was his wont, walked
+up and down the gangways also, toying with the <i>pince-nez</i>
+at his breast, and very successfully concealing the
+fact from every one that he was by no means in the
+seventh heaven of happiness. Tea-parties, so numerous
+and popular in the North, were always somewhat of a
+trial to him.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Basil and Mr. Byars met in the middle of the room
+when the tea was nearly over. Tears were gleaming in
+the eyes of the younger man.</p>
+
+<p>"It is hard to leave them all," he said. "How good
+and kind they are, how hearty! And these are the people
+I thought disliked me and misunderstood me. I
+resented what I thought was a vulgar familiarity and a
+coarse dislike. But how different they are beneath the
+surface!"</p>
+
+<p>"They have warm, loyal hearts, Basil," said the vicar.
+"It is a pity that such uncouth manners and exteriors
+should go with them. Surface graces may not mean
+much, but there is no doubt they have a tremendous influence
+over the human mind. During your illness the
+whole parish thought of little else, I really believe.
+And to-night you will have very practical evidence of
+their friendship. You know, of course, that there is
+going to be a presentation?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I couldn't help knowing that much, though I
+wish they wouldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"It is very good of them. Now I shall call for
+grace."</p>
+
+<p>The vicar made his way on to the platform and loudly
+clapped his hands. The tumult died suddenly away
+into silence, punctuated here and there by a belated rattle
+of a teacup and the spasmodic choking of some one
+endeavouring to bolt a large piece of cake in a hurry.</p>
+
+<p>"We will now sing grace," Mr. Byars said in a clear
+and audible voice,&mdash;"the <i>Old Hundred</i>, following our
+usual custom."</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke a little, bearded man in a frock-coat
+clambered up beside him. This was Mr. Cuthbert, the
+organist of the parish church. The little man pulled a
+tuning-fork from his pocket and struck it on the back of
+a chair.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then he held it to his ear for a moment. The people
+had all risen, and the room was now quite silent.</p>
+
+<p>"La!" sang the little organist, giving the note in a
+long, melodious call.</p>
+
+<p>He raised his hand, gave a couple of beats in the air,
+and the famous old hymn burst out royally. The great
+volume of sound seemed too fierce and urgent even for
+that spacious room. It pressed against the ear-drums
+almost with pain, though sung with the perfect time and
+tune which are the heritage of the sweet-voiced North-country
+folk:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>All people that on earth do dwell,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice!</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>How hearty it was! How strong and confident!</p>
+
+<p>As Basil Gortre listened his heart expanded in love
+and fellowship towards these brother Christians. The
+dark phantoms which had rioted in his sick brain during
+the long weeks of his illness lay dead and harmless
+now. The monstrous visions of a conventional and formal
+Christianity, covering a world of secret and gibing
+atheism, seemed incredibly far removed from the glorious
+truth, as these strong, homely people sang a full-voiced
+<i>ave</i> to the great brooding Trinity of Power and
+Love unseen, but all around them.</p>
+
+<p>Who was he to be refined and too dainty for his uses?
+There seemed nothing incongruous in the picture before
+his eyes. The litter of broken ham, the sloppy cups,
+the black-coated men with brilliant sky-blue satin ties,
+the women with thick gnarled hands and clothes the
+colour of a copper kettle, what were they now but his
+very own brethren, united in this burst of praise?</p>
+
+<p>And he joined in the doxology with all his heart
+and voice, his clear tenor soaring joyously above the
+rest:</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"<i>To FATHER, SON, and HOLY GHOST,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>The GOD Whom Heaven and earth adore,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>From men and from the Angel-host</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Be praise and glory evermore. Amen.</i>"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>It ceased with suddenness. There was the satisfied
+silence of a second, and then the attendant helpers,
+assisted by the feasters, fell swiftly upon the tables.
+Cloths and crockery vanished like snow melting in sunlight,
+and as each table was laid bare it was turned up
+by a patent arrangement, and became a long bench with
+a back, which was added to the rows of seats facing the
+platform. As each iron-supported seat was pushed
+noisily into its place it was filled up at once with a
+laughing crowd, replete but active, smacking anticipatory
+chops over the entertainment and speech-making to
+come.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Cuthbert, a painstaking pianist, whose repertoire
+was noisily commonplace, opened the concert with a solo.</p>
+
+<p>Songs and recitations followed. All were well received
+by an audience which was determined to enjoy
+itself, but it was obvious that the real event of the gathering
+was eagerly awaited.</p>
+
+<p>At last the eventful moment arrived. A table covered
+with green baize and bearing some objects concealed by
+a cloth was carried on the platform, and a row of chairs
+placed on either side of it.</p>
+
+<p>The vicar, Basil, a strange clergyman, and a little
+group of black-coated churchwardens and sidesmen
+filed upon the platform amid tumultuous cheering and
+clapping of hands.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Pryde, the solicitor, rose first, and pronounced a
+somewhat pompous but sincere eulogy upon Basil's
+work and life at Walktown, which was heard in an
+absolute and appreciative silence, only broken by the
+scratching pencil of the reporter from a local paper.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Then he called upon the vicar to make the presentation.</p>
+
+<p>Basil advanced to the table.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear friends and fellow-workers," said Mr.
+Byars, "I am not going to add much to what Mr. Pryde
+has said. As most of you know, Mr. Gortre stands and
+is about to stand to me in even a nearer and more intimate
+relation than that of assistant priest to his parish
+priest. But before giving Mr. Gortre the beautiful
+presents which your unbounded generosity has provided,
+and in order that you may have as little speech-making
+from me as possible, I want to take this opportunity
+of introducing the Reverend Henry Nuttall to
+you to-night."</p>
+
+<p>He bowed towards the stranger clergyman, a pleasant,
+burly, clean-shaven man.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going from among you for a couple of months,
+as I believe you have been told, and Mr. Nuttall is to
+take my place as your temporary pastor for that time.
+My doctor has ordered me rest for a time. So my
+daughter and myself, together with Mr. Gortre, who
+sadly needs change after his illness, and who is not to
+take up his duties in London for several weeks, are
+going away together for a holiday. And now I will
+simply ask Mr. Gortre to accept this tea-service and
+watch in the name of the congregation of St. Thomas as
+a token of their esteem and good-will."</p>
+
+<p>He pulled the cloth away and displayed some glittering
+silver vessels. Then he handed the agitated young
+man a gold watch in a leather case.</p>
+
+<p>Basil faced the shouting, enthusiastic crowd, staring
+through dimmed eyes at the long rows of animated
+faces.</p>
+
+<p>When there was a little silence he began to speak in a
+voice of great emotion.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Very simply and earnestly he thanked them for their
+good-will and kindness.</p>
+
+<p>"This may be," he said, "the last time I shall ever
+have the privilege and pleasure of speaking to you. I
+want to give you one last message. I want to urge one
+and all here to-night to do one thing. Keep your faith
+unspotted, unstained by doubts, uninfluenced by fears.
+Do that and all will be well with you here and hereafter."
+His voice sank a full tone and he spoke with
+marked emphasis. "I have sometimes thought and felt
+of late that possibly the time may be at hand, we who
+are here to-night may witness a time, when the Powers
+and Principalities of evil will make a great and determined
+onslaught upon the Christian Faith. I may not
+read the signs of the times aright, my premonitions&mdash;for
+they have sometimes amounted even to that&mdash;may be
+unfounded or imaginary. But if such a time shall
+come, if the 'horror of great darkness,' a spiritual horror,
+that we read of in Genesis, descend upon the world
+and envelop it in its gloom and terror, oh! let us have
+faith. Keep the light burning steadily. 'Let nothing
+disturb thee; let nothing affright thee. All passeth:
+God only remaineth.' And now, dear brothers and
+sisters in the Holy Faith, thank you, God bless you, and
+farewell."</p>
+
+<p>There was a tense silence as his voice dropped to a
+close.</p>
+
+<p>Here and there a woman sobbed.</p>
+
+<p>There was something peculiar about his warning.
+He spoke almost in prophecy, as if he <i>knew</i> of some
+terror coming, and saw its advance from afar. His
+face, pale and thin from fever, his bright, earnest eyes,
+not the glittering eyes of a fanatic, but the saner, wiser
+ones of the earnest single-minded man, had an immense
+influence with them there.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And that night, as they trudged home to mean dwellings,
+or suburban villas, or rolled away in carriages,
+each person heard the intense, quiet voice warning
+them of the future, exhorting them to be steadfast in
+the Faith.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">Seed which bore most fragrant blossom in the time
+which, though they knew it not, was close at hand was
+sown that night.</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></h2>
+
+<h4>A DINNER AT THE PANNIER D'OR</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">H</span><span class="smcap">elena</span> stood with her hand raised to her eyes,
+close by the port paddle-box, staring straight in
+front of her at a faint grey line upon the horizon.</p>
+
+<p>A stiff breeze was blowing in the Channel, though the
+sun was shining brightly on the tossing waters, all yellow-green
+with pearl lights, like a picture by Henry
+Moore.</p>
+
+<p>By the tall, graceful figure of the girl, swaying with
+the motion of the steamer and bending gracefully to the
+sudden onslaughts of the wind, stood a thick-set man of
+middle height, dressed in a tweed suit. His face was a
+strong one. Heavy reddish eyebrows hung over a pair
+of clear grey eyes, intellectual and kindly. The nose
+was beak-like and the large, rugged, red moustache hid
+the mouth.</p>
+
+<p>This was Harold Spence, the journalist with whom
+Gortre was to live after the holiday was over and he began
+his work in Bloomsbury. Spence was snatching a few
+days from his work in Fleet Street, in order to accompany
+Gortre and Mr. and Miss Byars to Dieppe. It had been
+his first introduction to the vicar and his daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"So that is really France, Mr. Spence!" said Helena;
+"the very first view of a foreign country I've ever had.
+I don't suppose you've an idea of what I'm feeling
+now? It seems so wonderful, something I've been
+waiting for all my life."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Spence smiled kindly, irradiating his face with good
+humour as he did so.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>my</i> sensations or emotions at present, Miss
+Byars, are entirely confined to wondering whether I am
+going to be seasick or not."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't speak of it!" said a thin voice, a voice from
+which all the blood seemed to be drained, and, turning,
+they saw the vicar at their elbow.</p>
+
+<p>His face was livid, his beard hung in lank dejection, a
+sincere misery poured from his pathetic eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Basil," he said, "Basil is down in the saloon eating
+greasy cold chicken and ham and drinking pale ale! I
+told him it was an outrage&mdash;" His feelings overcame
+him and he staggered away towards the stern.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor father," said the girl. "He never could stand
+the sea, you know. But he very soon gets all right when
+he is on dry land again. Oh, look! that must be a
+church tower! I can see it quite distinctly, and the sun
+on the roofs of the houses!"</p>
+
+<p>"That is St. Jacques," said Spence, "and that dome
+some way to the right, is St. Remy. Farthest of all to
+the right, on the cliffs, you can just see the ch�teau
+where the garrison is."</p>
+
+<p>Helena gazed eagerly and became silent in her excitement.
+Basil, who came up from the saloon and joined
+them, the healthy colour beginning to glow out on his
+cheeks once more, watched her tenderly. There was
+something childishly sweet in her delight as the broad,
+tub-like boat kicked its way rapidly towards the quaint
+old foreign town.</p>
+
+<p>In smoky Walktown he had not often seen her thus.
+Life was a more sober thing there, and her nature was
+graver than that of many girls, attuned to her environment.
+But, at the beginning of this holiday time, under
+a brilliant spring sun, which she was already beginning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+to imagine had a foreign charm about it, she too was
+happy and in a holiday mood.</p>
+
+<p>Basil pulled out his new and glorious gold watch,
+which had replaced the battered old gun-metal one he
+usually wore. Though not a poor man, he was simple
+in all his tastes, and the new toy gave him a recurring
+and childish pleasure whenever he looked at it.</p>
+
+<p>"We ought to be in in about twenty minutes," he said.
+"Have you noticed that the tossing of the ship has almost
+stopped? The land protects us. How clear the
+town is growing! I wonder if you will remember any of
+your French, Helena? I almost wish I was like you,
+seeing a foreign country for the first time. Spence is
+the real <i>voyageur</i> though. He's been all over the world
+for his paper."</p>
+
+<p>The vicar came up to them again, just as there was a
+general movement of the passengers towards the deck.
+A hooting cry from the steam whistle wailed over the
+water and the boat began to move slowly.</p>
+
+<p>In a few more minutes they had passed the breakwater
+and were gliding slowly past the wharves towards the
+landing-stage.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Helena clutched hold of Basil's arm.</p>
+
+<p>"O Basil," she whispered, "how beautiful&mdash;look!
+Guarding the harbour!"</p>
+
+<p>He turned and followed the direction of her glance.</p>
+
+<p>An enormous crucifix, more than life size, planted
+in the ground, rose from the low cliffs on the right for all
+entering the harbour to see.</p>
+
+<p>They watched the symbol in silence as the passengers
+chattered on every side and gathered up their rugs and
+hand-bags.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre slipped his arm through Helena's.</p>
+
+<p>The reminder was so vivid and sudden it affected them
+powerfully. They were both people of the world, living<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
+in it and enjoying the pleasures of life that came in their
+way. Gortre was not one of those narrow, and even ill-bred,
+young priests with a text for ever on his lips, a sort
+of inopportune concordance, with an unpleasant flavour
+of omniscience. His religion and Helena's was too deep
+and fibrous a thing for commonplaces about it. It did
+not continually effervesce within and break forth in minute
+and constant bubbles, losing all its sincerity and
+beauty by the vulgar wear and tear of a verbal trick.</p>
+
+<p>But it was always and for ever with him a transmuting
+force which changed his life each hour in a way of which
+the nominal believer has no conception.</p>
+
+<p>A letter he had once written to Helena during a holiday
+compressed all his belief, and his joy in his belief, into
+a few short lines. Thus had run the sincere and simple
+statement, unadorned by any effort of literary grace to
+give it point and force:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Day by day as your letters come I go on saying my
+prayers for you, and with you, in fresh faith and confidence.
+You know that I absolutely trust the Lord Jesus
+Christ, who is, I believe, the God who made the worlds,
+and that I pray to Him continually, relying on His
+promises.</p>
+
+<p>"I keep on reading all sides of the question, as your
+father does also, and while admitting all that honest criticism
+and sincere intellectual doubt can teach me, and
+freely conceding that there is no infallible record in the
+New Testament, I grow more and more convinced that
+the Gospels and Paul's letters relate <i>facts</i> and not imaginations
+or hallucinations. And the more strongly my
+intellect is convinced, so much more does my heart delight
+in the love of God, who has given Himself for me.
+How magnificent is that finale of St. John's Gospel!
+'Thomas saith unto Him, My Lord and my God.'
+And, then, how exquisite is the supplement about the manifestation
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
+at the lake side! Imagine the skill of the literary
+man who <span class="smcap">invented</span> that! Fancy such a man
+existing in <span class="smcap">a.d.</span> 150 or thereabouts! I see Mrs. Humphry
+Ward says 'it was a dream which the old man at Ephesus
+related, and his disciples thought it was fact.' And <i>she</i>
+is a literary person!"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>So, as the lovers glided slowly past the high symbol of
+God's pain, the worship in their hearts found but little
+utterance on their lips, though they were deeply touched.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed a good omen to welcome them to France!</p>
+
+<p>Spence remained to look after the luggage and to see
+it through the Customs, and the three others resolved to
+walk to the rooms which they had taken in the Faubourg
+de la Barre on the steep hill behind the ch�teau.</p>
+
+<p>They passed over the railway line in the middle of the
+road, and past the <i>caf�s</i> which cluster round the landing-stage,
+into the quaint market-place, with the great Gothic
+Cathedral Church of St. Jacques upon one side, and the
+colossal statue of Duquesne surrounded by baskets of
+spring flowers in the centre.</p>
+
+<p>To Helena Byars that simple progress was one of unalloyed
+excitement and delight. The small and wiry
+soldiers in their unfamiliar uniforms; an officer sipping
+vermouth in a <i>caf�</i>, with spurs, sword, and helmet shining
+in the sun; two black priests, with huge furry hats&mdash;all
+the moving colour of the scene gave her new and delightful
+sensations.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all so different!" she said breathlessly. "So
+bright and gay. What is that red thing over the tobacco
+shop, and that little brass dish over the hair-dresser's?
+Think of Walktown or Salford, now!"</p>
+
+<p>The house in the Faubourg de la Barre was kept by a
+Madame Varnier, who spoke English well, and was in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
+the habit of letting her rooms to English people. A late
+<i>d�jeuner</i> was ready for them.</p>
+
+<p>The omelette was a revelation to Helena, and the
+<i>rognons saut�s</i> filled her with respect for such cooking,
+but she was impatient, nevertheless, to be out and sight-seeing.</p>
+
+<p>The vicar was tired, and proposed to stay indoors with
+the <i>Spectator</i>, and Spence had some letters to write, so
+Basil and Helena went out alone.</p>
+
+<p>"The vicar and I will meet you at six," Spence said,
+"at the Caf� des Tribuneaux, that big place with the
+gabled roof in the centre of the town. At six the <i>l'heure
+verre</i> begins, the time when everyone goes out for an
+<i>ap�ritif</i>, the appetiser before dinner; afterwards I'll
+take you to dine at the Pannier d'Or, a jolly little restaurant
+I know of, and in the evening we'll go to the
+Casino."</p>
+
+<p>Madame Varnier, the <i>patronne</i>, was in her kitchen sitting-room
+at the bottom of the stairs, and they looked in
+through the hatchway as they passed to tell her that they
+were not dining indoors.</p>
+
+<p>On the floor a little girl, with pale yellow hair, an engaging
+button of three, was playing with a live rabbit,
+plump and mouse-coloured.</p>
+
+<p>"How sweet!" said Helena, who was in a mood which
+made her ready to appreciate everything. "Look at the
+little darling with its pet. Has baby had the rabbit long,
+Madame Varnier?"</p>
+
+<p>The Frenchwoman smiled lavishly. "Est-elle gentille
+l'enfant! hein! I bring the lapin chez moi from the
+magazin yesterday. There was very good lapins yesterday.
+I buy when I can. Je trouverai �a plus prudent.
+He is for the d�jeuner of mademoiselle to-morrow. I
+take him so,"&mdash;she caught up the animal and suited the
+action to the word,&mdash;"I press his throat till his mouth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
+open, and I pour a little cognac into him. Il se meurt,
+and the flesh have a delicious flavour from the cognac!"</p>
+
+<p>"How perfectly horrible!" said Helena as they came
+out into the street and walked down the hill. "Fancy
+seeing one's lunch alive and playing about like that, and
+then killing it with brandy, too! What pigs these French
+people are!"</p>
+
+<p>Soon after the cool gloom of St. Remy enveloped them.
+Under the big dome they lingered for a time, walking
+from chapel to chapel, where nuns were praying. But
+it dulled them rather, and they had more pleasure in the
+grey and Gothic twilight of St. Jacques. Here the eye
+was uplifted by more noble lines, there was a more
+medi�val and romantic feeling about the place.</p>
+
+<p>"We will come here to Mass on Sunday," said Basil.
+"I shall not go to the English Church at all. I never do
+abroad, and the vicar agrees with me. You see one belongs
+to the Catholic Church in England. In France
+one belongs to it, too. The 'Protestant' Church, as they
+call it, with an English clergyman, is, of course, a Dissenting
+church here."</p>
+
+<p>"I see your point," said Helena, "though I don't know
+that I quite agree with it. But I have never been to
+a Roman Catholic church in England, and I want to see
+some of the services. 'Bowing down in the House of
+Rimmon,' Mr. Philemon would call it at Walktown."</p>
+
+<p>They turned down a narrow street of quiet houses, and
+came out on to the Plage. There were a good many
+people walking up and down the great promenade from
+the Casino to the harbour mouth. An air of fulness and
+prosperity floated round the magnificent hotels which
+faced the sea.</p>
+
+<p>It was a spring season, owing to the unusual mildness
+of the weather, and Dieppe was full of people. The
+Casino was opened temporarily after the long sleep of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
+winter, and a company was performing there, having
+come on from the theatre at Rouen.</p>
+
+<p>"What a curious change from the churches and market-place,"
+said Helena. "This is tremendously smart
+and fashionable. How well-dressed every one is. Look
+at that red-haired woman with the furs. This is being
+quite in the world again."</p>
+
+<p>They began a steady walk towards the pier and lighthouse.
+The wind was fresh, though not troublesome,
+and at five o'clock the sun, low in the sky, was still bright,
+and could give his animation to the picture.</p>
+
+<p>The two young people amused themselves by speculations
+about the varied types of people who passed and
+repassed them. Gortre wore a suit of very dark grey,
+with a short coat and an ordinary tweed cap&mdash;his holiday
+suit, he called it&mdash;and, except for his clerical collar,
+there was little to show his calling. He was pleased, with
+a humorous sense of proprietorship, a kind of vicarious
+vanity, to notice the attention and admiration excited by
+the beautiful English girl at his side.</p>
+
+<p>Helena Byars held her own among the cosmopolitan
+crowd of women who walked on the Plage. Her beauty
+was Saxon, very English, and not of a type that is always
+appreciated to its full value on the Continent, but it shone
+the more from Latin contrasts, and could not escape
+remark.</p>
+
+<p>Every now and again they turned, at distances of a
+quarter of a mile or so, and during the recurrence of
+their beat they began to notice a person whom they met
+several times, coming and going.</p>
+
+<p>He was an enormously big man, broad and tall, dressed
+expensively and with care. His size alone was sufficient
+to mark him out of the usual, but his personality seemed
+to them no less arresting and strange.</p>
+
+<p>His large, smooth face was fat, the eyes small and brilliant,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
+with heavy pouches under them. His whole manner
+was a trifle florid and Georgian. Basil said that he
+seemed to belong to the Prince Regent's period in some
+subtle way. "I can imagine him on the lawns at Brighton
+or dining in the Pavilion," he said. "What a sensual,
+evil face the man has! Of course it may mean nothing,
+though. The Bishop of &mdash;&mdash;, one of the saints of the time,
+whose work on the Gospels is the most wonderful thing
+ever done in the way of Christian apologetics, has a face
+like one of the grotesque devils carved on the roof of
+Notre Dame or Lincoln Cathedral. But this man seems
+by his face to have no soul. One can't feel it is there,
+as one does, thank God! with most people."</p>
+
+<p>"But what an intellect such a man must have! Look
+at him now. Look at the shape of his head. And besides,
+you can see it in his face, despite its sensuality
+and materialism. He must be some distinguished person.
+I seem to remember pictures of him, just lately,
+too, in the illustrated papers, only I can't get a name to
+them. I'm certain he's English, and some one of
+importance."</p>
+
+<p>The big man passed them again with a quiet and swift
+glance of appreciation for Helena. He seemed lonely.
+Basil and Helena realised that he would have welcomed
+a chance word of greeting, some overture of friendship,
+which is not so impossible between English people abroad&mdash;even
+in adjacent Dieppe&mdash;as in our own country.</p>
+
+<p>But neither of them responded to the unspoken wish
+they felt in the stranger. They were quite happy with
+each other, and presently they saw him light a cigar and
+turn into one of the great hotels.</p>
+
+<p>They discussed the man for a few minutes&mdash;he had
+made an odd impression on them by his personality&mdash;and
+then found that it was time for the rendezvous at the
+Caf� des Tribuneaux.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>By this time dusk was falling, and the sea moaned with
+a certain melancholy. But the town began to be brilliant
+with electric lights, and the florid Moorish building
+of the Casino was jewelled everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>They turned away to the left, leaving the sea behind
+them, and, passing through a narrow street by the
+Government tobacco factory, came into the town again,
+and, after a short walk, to the <i>caf�</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The place was bright and animated&mdash;lights, mirrors,
+and gilding, the stir and movement of the pavement, combined
+to make a novel and attractive picture for the English
+girl. The night was not cold, and they sat under
+the awning at a little round table watching the merry
+groups with interest. In a few minutes after their arrival
+they saw Spence and the vicar, now quite restored and
+well, coming towards them. They had forborne to order
+anything before the arrival of their companions.</p>
+
+<p>The journalist took them under his wing at once. It
+amused him to be a cicerone to help them to a feeling of
+being at home. Gortre and Mr. Byars had been in
+Switzerland, and the latter at Rome on one occasion, but
+under the wing of a bishop's son who made his livelihood
+out of personally conducting parties to Continental
+towns of interest for a fixed fee. There was little freedom
+in these cut-and-dried tours, with their lectures <i>en
+route</i> and the very dinners in the hotel ordered for the
+tourists, and everything so arranged that they need not
+speak a word of any foreign language.</p>
+
+<p>For the vicar, Spence prescribed a <i>vermouth sec</i>;
+Gortre, a courtesy invalid, was given a minute glass of an
+amber-coloured liquid with quinine in it&mdash;"<i>Dubonnet</i>"
+Spence called it; and Helena had a <i>sirop</i> of <i>menthe</i>.</p>
+
+<p>They were all very happy together in the simple-minded,
+almost childish, way of quiet, intellectual people. Their
+enjoyment of the novel liqueurs, in a small <i>caf�</i> at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
+tourist-haunted Dieppe, was as great as that of any
+sybarite at the Hotel Ritz in Paris, or at a rare dinner
+at Ciro's in Monte Carlo.</p>
+
+<p>Spence ordered an absinthe for himself.</p>
+
+<p>The vicar seemed slightly perturbed. "Isn't that stuff
+rather dangerous, Spence?" he said, shrinking a little
+from the glass when the waiter brought it. "I've heard
+terrible things of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I know," said the journalist, laughing, "people
+call it the French national vice and write tirades against
+it. Of course if it becomes a regular habit it is dangerous,
+and excess in absinthe is worse than most things.
+But one glass taken now and again is a wonderful
+stomachic and positively beneficial. I take one, perhaps,
+five times in a year and like it. But, like all good things,
+it is terribly abused both by the people who use it and
+those who don't."</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Helena turned to Gortre.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, look, Basil!" she said. "There is our friend of
+the Plage&mdash;Quinbus Flestrin, the mountain of flesh, you
+remember your Swift?"</p>
+
+<p>The big stranger, now in evening dress and a heavy fur
+coat, had just come into the <i>caf�</i> and was sitting there
+with a cigarette and a Paris paper. He seemed lost in
+some sort of anxious speculation&mdash;at least so it seemed
+by the drooping of the journal in his massive fingers and
+the set expression of abstraction which lingered in his
+eyes and spread a veil over his countenance.</p>
+
+<p>They had all turned at Helena's exclamation and
+looked towards the other side of the <i>caf�</i>, where the man
+was sitting.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that's Sir Robert Llwellyn," said Spence.</p>
+
+<p>The vicar looked up eagerly. "The great authority on
+the antiquities of the Holy Land?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's the man. They knighted him the other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>
+day. He's supposed to be the greatest living authority,
+you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know him, then?" asked the vicar.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," said Spence, carelessly. "One knows
+every one in my trade. I have to. I've often gone to
+him for information when anything very special has been
+discovered. And I've met him in clubs and at lectures
+or at first nights at the theatre. He is a great play-goer."</p>
+
+<p>"A decent sort of man?" said Gortre in a tone which
+certainly implied a doubt.</p>
+
+<p>Spence hesitated a moment. "Oh, well, I suppose so,"
+he said carelessly. "There are tales about his private
+life, but probably quite untrue. He's a man of the world
+as well as a great scholar, and I suppose the rather unusual
+combination makes people talk. But he is right
+up at the top of the tree,&mdash;goes everywhere; and he's
+just been knighted for his work. I'll go over and speak
+to him."</p>
+
+<p>"If he'll come over," said the vicar, his eyes alight
+with anticipation and the hope of a talk with this famous
+expert on the subjects nearest his own heart, "bring
+him, <i>please</i>. There is nothing I should like better than
+a chat with him. I know his <i>Modern Discoveries and
+Holy Writ</i> almost by heart."</p>
+
+<p>They watched Spence go across to Sir Robert's table.
+The big man started as he was spoken to, looked up
+in surprise, then smiled with pleasure, and extended a
+welcoming hand. Spence sat down beside him and they
+were soon in the middle of a brisk conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"The poor man looked very bored until Mr. Spence
+spoke to him," said Helena. "Father, I'm sure you'll
+have your wish. He seems glad to have some one to
+talk to."</p>
+
+<p>She was right. After a minute or two the journalist<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
+returned with Llwellyn, and the five of them were soon
+in a full flood of talk.</p>
+
+<p>"I was going to dine alone at my hotel," said the Professor,
+at length; "but Spence says that he knows of a
+decent restaurant here. I wonder if you would let me be
+one of your party? I'm quite alone in Dieppe for a
+couple of days. I'm waiting for a friend with whom I
+am going to travel."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, do come, Sir Robert," said the vicar, with manifest
+pleasure. "Are you going to be away from England
+for long?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have leave from the British Museum for a year,"
+said the Professor. "My doctor says that I require absolute
+rest. I am <i>en route</i> for Marseilles and from there
+to Alexandria."</p>
+
+<p>The Pannier d'Or proved a pleasant little place, and
+the dinner was excellent. The Professor surprised and
+then amused the others by his criticism of the viands.
+He made the dinner his especial business, sent for the
+cook and had a serious conversation with him, chose the
+wines with extreme care.</p>
+
+<p>His knowledge of the culinary art was enormous, and
+he treated it with a kind of reverence, addressing himself
+more particularly to Helena.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Miss Byars, you must be <i>most</i> careful in the preparation
+of really good crayfish soup. This is excellent.
+The great secret is to flavour with a little lobster spawn
+and to mix the crumb of a French roll with the stock&mdash;white
+stock of course&mdash;before you add the powdered
+shells and anchovies."</p>
+
+<p>Many times, despite his impatience to get to deeper
+and more congenial subjects, the vicar smiled at the
+purring of this gourmet, who seemed to prefer a sauce to
+an inscription and rissoles to research.</p>
+
+<p>But with the special coffee&mdash;covered with fine yellow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>
+foam and sweetened with crystals of amber sugar&mdash;the
+vicar's hour came. Sir Robert realised that it was
+inevitable and with a half sigh gave the required
+opening.</p>
+
+<p>Once started, his manner changed utterly. The mask
+of materialism peeled away from his face, which became
+younger, brighter, as thought animated it, and new, finer
+lines cames out upon it as knowledge poured from
+him.</p>
+
+<p>The conversation threatened to be a long one.
+Spence saw that and proposed to go on to the Casino with
+Helena, leaving the two clergymen with Llwellyn. It
+was when they had gone that the trio settled down
+completely.</p>
+
+<p>It resolved itself at first into a duologue between
+the two elder men. Gortre's knowledge was too general
+and superficial on these purely antiquarian matters
+to allow him to take much part in it. He sat sipping
+his coffee and listening with keen attention and great
+enjoyment to this talk of experts. He had not liked
+Llwellyn from the first and could not do so even now,
+but he was forced to recognise the enormous intellectual
+activity and power of the big, purring creature before
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Step by step the two arch�ologists went over the new
+discoveries being made in the ground between the City
+Wall of Jerusalem and the Hill of "Jeremiah's Grotto."
+They talked of the blue and purple mosaics found
+on the Mount of Olives, of all that had been done by
+the English and German excavators during the past
+years.</p>
+
+<p>Gradually the discussion became more intimate and
+began to touch on great issues.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Byars was in a state of extraordinary interest.
+His knowledge was wide, and Llwellyn early realised<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>
+this, speaking to him as an equal, but beside the Professor's
+all-embracing achievements it was as nothing.
+The clergyman learnt something fresh, some sudden illuminating
+point of view, some irradiating fact, at every
+moment.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose," Mr. Byars said at length, "that the true
+situation of the Holy Sepulchre is still a matter of considerable
+doubt, Professor. Your view would interest
+me extremely."</p>
+
+<p>"My view," said Llwellyn, with remarkable earnestness
+and with an emphasis which left no doubt about his
+convictions, "is that the Sepulchre has not yet been
+located."</p>
+
+<p>"And your view is authoritative of course," said Mr.
+Byars.</p>
+
+<p>The Professor bowed.</p>
+
+<p>"That is as it may be," he said, "but I have no doubt
+upon the subject. The Church of the Holy Sepulchre
+is quite out of the question. There is really no historical
+evidence for it beyond a foolish dream of the
+Empress Helena, in <span class="smcap">a.d.</span> 326. The people who <i>know</i>
+dismiss the traditional site at once. Of course it is <i>generally</i>
+believed, but one cannot expect the world at
+large to be cognisant of the doings of the authorities.
+Canon MacColl has said that the traditional site is the
+real one, and as his name has never been out of the
+public eye since what were called 'The Bulgarian
+Atrocities,' they are content to follow his lead. Then
+there is the question of the second site, in which a great
+many people believe they have found the true Golgotha
+and Sepulchre. 'The Gordon Tomb,' as it has been
+called, excited a great deal of attention at the time of its
+discovery. You may remember that I went to Jerusalem
+on behalf of the <i>Times</i> to investigate the matter. You
+may recollect that I proved beyond dispute that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>
+tomb was not Jewish at all, but indubitably Christian
+and long subsequent to the time of Christ. As a matter
+of fact, when the tomb was excavated in 1873 it was
+full of human bones and the mould of decomposed
+bodies, and there were two red-painted crosses on
+the walls. The tomb was close to a large Crusading
+hospice, and I have no doubt that it was used for the
+burial of pilgrims. Besides, my excavations proved
+that the second "city wall" must have <i>included</i> the
+new site, so that the Gospel narrative at once demolishes
+the new theory. I embodied twenty-seven other
+minor proofs in my letters to the <i>Times</i> also. No, Mr.
+Byars, my conviction is that we are not yet able to
+locate in any way the position of Golgotha and the
+Holy Tomb."</p>
+
+<p>"You think that is to come?" asked Gortre.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I feel certain</i>," answered the Professor, with great
+deliberation and meaning&mdash;"<i>I feel certain that we are
+on the eve of stupendous discoveries in this direction</i>."</p>
+
+<p>His tones were so impressive and so charged with import
+that the two clergymen looked quickly at each other.
+It seemed obvious that Llwellyn was aware of some
+impending discoveries. He must, they knew, be in constant
+touch with all that was being done in Palestine.
+Curiously enough, his words gave each of them a certain
+sense of chill, of uneasiness. There seemed to be something
+behind them, something of sinister suggestion,
+which they could not divine or formulate, but merely
+felt as an action upon the nerves.</p>
+
+<p>It was a rare experience to sit with the greatest living
+authority upon a subject, and hear his views&mdash;views
+which it would be folly not to accept. His knowledge
+was so sure and so profound, a sense of power flowed
+from him.</p>
+
+<p>But though both men felt a dim premonition of what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>
+his words might possibly convey, neither could bring
+himself to a deliberate question. Nor did Llwellyn
+appear to invite it. During the whole of their talk he
+had sedulously avoided any religious questions. He had
+dealt solely with historical aspects.</p>
+
+<p>His position in the religious world was singular. His
+knowledge of Biblical history was one of its assets, but
+he was not known definitely as a believer.</p>
+
+<p>His attitude had always been absolutely non-committal.
+He did the work he had to do without taking
+sides.</p>
+
+<p>It had become generally understood that no definite
+statement of his own personal convictions was to be
+asked or expected from him.</p>
+
+<p>The general consensus of opinion was that Sir Robert
+Llwellyn was <i>not</i> a believer in the divinity of Christ;
+but it was merely an opinion, and had never been confirmed
+by him.</p>
+
+<p>There was rather a tense silence for a short time.</p>
+
+<p>The Professor broke it.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me show you," he said, taking a gold pencil-case
+from his pocket, "a little map which I published at
+the time of the agitation about Gordon's Tomb. I can
+trace the course of the city walls for you."</p>
+
+<p>He felt in his pocket for some paper on which to
+make the drawing, and took out a letter.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre and the vicar drew their chairs closer.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a curious pain shot through Basil's head
+and all his pulses throbbed violently. He experienced
+a terribly familiar sensation&mdash;the sick fear and repulsion
+of the night before his illness in the great library. The
+aroma of some utterly evil and abominable personality
+seemed to come into his brain.</p>
+
+<p>For, as he had looked down at the paper on which the
+great white fingers were now tracing thin lines, he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
+seen, before Llwellyn turned it over, a firm, plain signature,
+thus:</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;">
+<img src="images/con_sig.png" width="300" height="59" alt="Constantine Schuabe" />
+</div>
+
+<p>With some excuse about the heat of the room, he left
+it and went out into the night.</p>
+
+<p>His brain was busy with terrible intuitive forebodings,
+he seemed to be caught up in the fringe of some
+great net, the phantoms of his illness came round him
+once more, the dark air was thick with their wings&mdash;vague,
+and because of that more hideous.</p>
+
+<p>He passed the lighted <i>kiosk</i> at the Casino entrance
+with a white, set face.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">He was going home to pray.</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></h2>
+
+<h4>INAUGURATION</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">I</span><span class="smcap">t</span> was at Victoria Station that Basil said good-bye to
+Helena. Spence had been back again in London
+for a fortnight. Mr. Byars and his daughter were to go
+straight back to Manchester the same day, and Gortre
+was to take possession of his new quarters in Lincoln's
+Inn and enter on his duties at St. Mary's without delay.</p>
+
+<p>It had been a pleasant holiday, they all agreed, as the
+train brought them up from Newhaven; how pleasant
+they had hardly realised till it was all over. They had
+been all brought more intimately together than ever before.
+Gortre had come to know Mr. Byars with far
+more completeness than had been possible during their
+busy parochial life at Walktown. The elder man's
+calm and steadfast belief, his wide knowledge and culture,
+the Christian <i>sanity</i> of his life, were never more
+manifest than in the uninterrupted communion of this
+time of rest and pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>He saw in his future father-in-law such a man as he
+himself humbly hoped that he might become. The impulsiveness
+of an eager youth had toned down into the
+mature judgment of middle age. The enthusiasms of
+life's springtime had solidified into quiet strength and
+force, and faith and intellect had combined into a deep
+and immovable conviction. And Mr. Byars's was no simple,
+childlike nature to whom goodness and belief were
+easy, a natural attribute of the man. He was subtle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
+rather, complex, and the victory over himself had cost him
+more than it costs most men. So much Gortre realised,
+and his love and admiration for the vicar were tempered
+with that joyous awe that one fine nature is privileged to
+feel at the contact with another.</p>
+
+<p>To Helena also this time of holiday had been very
+precious. To mark the fervour of her chosen one, the
+energy he threw into Life, Love, and Religion, to find
+him a <i>man</i> and yet a priest, to follow him in thought to
+the ivory gates of his Ideals&mdash;these were her uplifting
+occupations; and to all these as they walked and talked,
+listened to the music at the Casino, explored the ancient
+forest and castle at Arques, or knelt with bowed heads
+as the sacring bell rang and the priests moved about the
+altar&mdash;these had been the united bond of the great knowledge
+and hope they shared together.</p>
+
+<p>After the farewells had been said in the noisy station,
+and Basil's cab drove him rapidly towards his new home,
+he felt wonderfully ready and prepared for his new work.</p>
+
+<p>The moving panorama of Victoria Street, the sudden
+stately vision of Palace Yard, the grandeur of the Embankment&mdash;all
+spoke to the young man of a vivid, many-coloured,
+and pulsating life which was waiting for him
+and his activities. Here, indeed, was a fine battlefield
+and theatre for the Holy War.</p>
+
+<p>The cab moved slowly up Chancery Lane and then
+turned into the sudden quiet of Lincoln's Inn. It was
+almost like going back to Oxford, he thought, with a
+quick glow of pleasure to see himself surrounded by
+mellow, ancient buildings once more.</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">All his heavy personal effects had been sent up from
+Walktown some days before, and when he had carried
+up his two portmanteaus he knocked at the "oak" or
+outside door of the chambers, which was shut, and
+waited for a response. He saw that his name was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>
+freshly painted on the lintel of the door under the two
+others:</p>
+
+<div>
+<p class="box">
+<span class="smcap">Mr. Harold M. Spence.</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Mr. Cyril Hands.</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">Rev. Basil Gortre.</span>
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p2">In a minute he heard footsteps. The inner door was
+opened and he saw a tall, thin man, bearded and brown,
+peering at him through spectacles.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Gortre, I suppose," said the other. "We were
+expecting you. I'm Hands, you know, home for another
+month yet. Give me these bags. Come in, come
+in."</p>
+
+<p>He followed the big, stooping fellow with a sense of
+well-being at the cheery bohemianism of his greeting.</p>
+
+<p>He found himself in a very large room indeed, panelled
+from floor to ceiling, the woodwork painted a sage
+green. Three great windows, each with a cushioned
+seat in its recess, looked down into the quadrangle below.
+Curtained doors faced him on all sides of the
+room, which was oddly shaped and full of nooks and
+angles. Books and newspapers covered two or three
+writing-tables and were piled on shelves between the
+doors. A bright fire burned in a large grate and the
+mantel above was covered with Oxford photographs,
+pipes, and tobacco jars. There was a note of comfort
+everywhere, of luxurious comfort though not of luxury.
+The furniture was not new and it bore the signs of long
+use no less than careful choice. Bohemia it was, but
+not a squalid Bohemia. If a room can have a personality,
+this was a <i>gentlemanly</i> room. One saw that gentlemen
+lived here, men who, without daintiness or a tinge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
+of the sybarite, yet liked a certain order and fitness
+around them. At once Basil felt in key with the place.
+There was no jarring note anywhere.</p>
+
+<p>"I've got you a sort of meal, Gortre," said Hands,
+pleasantly, "though we were rather in doubt as to what
+a man could want at four o'clock in the afternoon!
+Spence suggested afternoon tea, as you'll be wanting to
+dine later on. But Mrs. Buscall, our laundress, suggested
+cold beef and Bass's beer&mdash;after a sea voyage
+which she regards as a sort of Columbus adventure. So
+fall to&mdash;here you are. Harold is just getting up."</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, as he spoke there came a noise of vigorous
+splashing from behind one of the closed doors and
+Spence's voice bellowed out a greeting.</p>
+
+<p>Basil looked puzzled for a moment and Hands laughed
+as he saw it.</p>
+
+<p>"You must remember that Spence doesn't get back
+from the office till three in the morning," he said. "He's
+writing four leaders a week now, and on his late nights,
+when he comes back, his brain is too alert and excited
+to sleep, so he has some Bovril and just works away
+at other stuff till morning. He won't interfere with us,
+though. I never hear him come in, nor will you. These
+chambers are a regular rabbit warren for size and ramification."</p>
+
+<p>Basil went into the bedroom he was to have, a spacious,
+clean, and simply furnished place, and when he
+came out again for his meal found Spence, in a loose suit
+of flannels, smoking a cigarette. The journalist joined
+him at the table.</p>
+
+<p>In a very short time Gortre felt thoroughly at home.
+He knew by a kind of instinct that he should be happy
+in Lincoln's Inn. Hands had still a month to spend in
+London before he went back to Palestine to continue
+his work for the Exploring Society, and he looked for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>ward
+to many interesting talks with him, the actual agent
+and superintendent of the work at Jerusalem, the trained
+eye and arm of the great and influential English Society.</p>
+
+<p>And as for Spence, he had known him intimately ever
+since his first Oxford days, many years ago now. Harold
+Spence was like a brother to him&mdash;had always been
+that.</p>
+
+<p>The first hour's conversation, desultory as it was, in
+a sense, showed him how full and varied his new life
+promised to be. After the noisy seclusion of Walktown
+he felt that he was now in the centre of things. Both
+Spence and Hands were thoroughly cultured men, and
+both were distinguished above the crowd in their respective
+spheres.</p>
+
+<p>Basil heard keen, critical, "inside" talk for almost
+the first time. His two companions knew everybody,
+were at the hub of things. Two nights ago Spence had
+been talking to the Prime Minister for ten minutes.&mdash;<i>The
+Daily Wire</i> was the unofficial Government organ.
+Hands had been at Lambeth with the Archbishop, the
+president and patron of the Palestine Society. They
+were absolute types of the keen, vigorous, and <i>young</i>
+mental aristocracy which is always on the active service of
+English life. They belonged to the executive branch.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry, Basil," Spence said suddenly, "I've got
+a note for you from Father Ripon. I forgot to give it
+to you. He sent it down by a special messenger this
+morning. Here it is."</p>
+
+<p>Father Ripon was the vicar of St. Mary's, Gortre's new
+chief.</p>
+
+<p>He took the note and opened it, reading as follows:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="inright">
+"<span class="smcap">The Clergy House, &nbsp; &nbsp; <br />
+"St Mary's, Bloomsbury.</span>
+</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Gortre</span>,&mdash;Friend Spence says that you will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
+arrive in London this afternoon. I don't believe in wasting
+time and I want a good long talk with you before you
+begin your work with us. To-night I am due at Bethnal
+Green to give a lecture. I shall be driving home about
+ten and I'll call at Lincoln's Inn on my way. If this will
+not be too late for you, we can then talk matters over.&mdash;Sincerely
+yours in Christ,</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">
+<span style="margin-left:10em"><span class="smcap">Arthur Ripon</span>."</span>
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Basil passed the note to Spence.</p>
+
+<p>"That'll be all right," he said. "I shall be at work,
+and Hands will be in his own room. What a man Ripon is!
+He's just the incarnation of breezy energy. Brusque,
+unconventional as Dr. Parker himself, but one of
+the sincerest Christians and best men I ever met or ever
+shall meet. He signs his note like that because he means
+it. He hates cant, and what in some men would appear
+cant, or at least a rather unnecessary form of ending, is
+to him just an ordinary every-day fact. You will get on
+with Father Ripon, Basil, I'm sure. You'll get to love the
+man as we all do. I never knew any one so absolutely
+joyous as he is. He's about the happiest man in town,
+I should say. His private income is nearly two thousand
+a year, and his living's worth something too, and
+yet I don't suppose his own expenses are fifty pounds.
+He lives more or less on porridge&mdash;when he remembers
+to eat at all&mdash;and his only extravagance is hansom cabs,
+so that he can cram more work into the day."</p>
+
+<p>They all laughed, and Spence began to tell anecdotes
+of the famous "ritualistic" parson who daily filled more
+stomachs, saved more souls, and shocked more narrow-minded
+people than any two men in Crockford.</p>
+
+<p>At seven o'clock they all went out together&mdash;Spence
+to his adjacent office in Fleet Street, the other two to
+dine quietly at the University Club.</p>
+
+<p>"London depresses me," said Hands, when they were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
+seated on the top of an omnibus and rolling westward
+through the Strand. "I am afraid that I shall never be
+in love with London any more. I always dislike my vacations,
+or rather my business visits to town. It's necessary
+that I attend the annual meeting of the Society
+and see people in authority, and I have to give a few lectures
+too. But I hate it all the same. I love the simple
+life of the East, the sun, the deep blue shadows, my
+silent Arabs. I know of no more beautiful sight than
+the Holy City&mdash;why do they call Rome the 'Holy City'?
+Jerusalem is the Holy City&mdash;when the hills are covered
+with the January snows. It is a wonderful, immemorial
+land, Gortre, a silent, beautiful country. Just before I
+came over here I spent a fortnight working at some inscriptions
+in a very ancient Latin monastery. I never
+knew such peace. The monks are all sad-faced, courteous
+Syrians, and they move along the rock balconies
+like benignant ghosts. And then one comes back and is
+plunged into this!"</p>
+
+<p>He threw out his hand over the side of the omnibus
+with a note of disgust in his rather dreamy voice. The
+Strand was all brilliantly lit and waiting crowds stood by
+all the theatre doors. Men and women passed in and
+out of the bright orange light of bars and restaurants,
+and small filthy boys stabbed the deep roar of the traffic
+with their shrill voices as they called out the evening
+papers.</p>
+
+<p>They dined quietly and simply at the big warm club
+in Piccadilly. Hands did most of the talking and Gortre
+was content to listen to the pleasant monotony of the
+low, level voice and to fall under the man's peculiar spell
+or charm&mdash;a charm that he always exercised upon another
+artistic temperament.</p>
+
+<p>Hands was a poet by nature and sentiment. His
+strange, lonely life among the evidences of the past<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+under the Eastern sky had toned, mellowed, and orientalised
+his vision.</p>
+
+<p>As he listened Gortre also began to feel something of
+the mystery and magic influence of that country of God's
+birth.</p>
+
+<p>It was half-past nine when they got back to the chambers
+again. Hands went at once to his own room to
+work and Basil sat down in front of a red, glowing fire,
+gazing into the hot caverns, lost in reverie. It was as
+though he had taken some opiate and there was nothing
+better in life than to sit thus and dream in the warm
+silence of the firelit room.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes after ten he was suddenly called out of
+the clouds by a furious knocking at the door of the
+chambers.</p>
+
+<p>The sound cut into his dreams like a knife.</p>
+
+<p>He went to open the door, and Father Ripon, his new
+vicar, came in like a whirlwind. His voluminous black
+cloak brought cold air in its folds; his breezy, genial
+personality was so actual a fact, struck such a strident,
+material note, that dreams and reverie fled before it.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre turned up the gas-jets and flooded the room
+with light.</p>
+
+<p>Father Ripon was a tall, well-made man, too active to
+be portly, but with hints of a tendency towards plumpness,
+which was never allowed to ripen. His iron-grey
+hair was cropped close to his large, well-shaped head.
+The shrewd, merry eyes, of a rare red-hazel colour, were
+shaded by heavy grey brows, which gave them a singular
+directness and penetration. The nose was aquiline, the
+lips thin, though the mouth was large, and the chin massive
+and somewhat protruding. The mobile face, lined
+and seamed by the strenuous life of its owner, was very
+seldom in repose. It glowed and flashed continually
+with changing expression. On those occasions when the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+play of feature sank to rest for a moment, at the giving
+of a benediction or the saying of a solemn prayer in
+church, a nobility and asceticism transformed the face
+into something saintly. But in the ordinary business of
+life the large humanity of the man gave him a readier
+title to the hearts of his people than their knowledge of
+the underlying saintliness of his character.</p>
+
+<p>"Whisky?" he said, as Gortre asked him to take some.
+"No, thanks. Teetotaler for sake of example, always
+have been&mdash;and don't like the stuff either, never did.
+But I'll have some coffee and some bread and butter, if
+you've got it, and some of those oranges I see there.
+Forgot to lunch and had no time to dine!"</p>
+
+<p>He began ravenously upon the oranges and with little
+further preamble plunged at once into the business of
+the parish. To emphasise a point, he flung a piece of
+orange peel savagely into the fire now and again.</p>
+
+<p>"Our congregation," he said, "is peculiar to the
+church. You'll realise that when you get among them.
+I don't suppose in the whole of London there is a more
+difficult class of people to reach than our own. In the
+first place, it's a <i>young</i> congregation, speaking generally.
+'Good,' you'll say; 'ductible material, plenty of enthusiasm
+to work on.' Not a bit of it. Most of the
+men are engaged in the City as clerks upon a small
+wage. They are mentally rather "small" men. Their
+lives are hard and monotonous, their outlook upon life
+petty and vulgar. The lowest and the highest classes
+are far easier to get at because they are temperamentally
+more alike. The anarchists have some right on their
+side when they condemn the <i>bourgeoisie</i>! It's difficult to
+show a small brain a big thing. <i>Our</i> difficulty is to explain
+the stupendous truths of Christianity to flabby and
+inert, machine-like fellows. When we <i>do</i> get hold of
+them, the very monotony of their lives makes religion a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>
+more valuable thing to them. But the temptations of this
+class are terribly strong, living alone in lodgings as they
+do. The cheap music-hall and bar attract them; dissipation
+forms their society. Their views of women are
+taken from their association with the girls of the streets
+and the theatres. As they have no settled place in society,
+they are horribly afraid of ridicule. They are a far
+more difficult lot than their colleagues who live in the
+suburbs and have chances for healthier recreations.</p>
+
+<p>"Then much of our work lies among women who seem
+irretrievably lost, and, I fear, very often are so. The
+Bloomsbury district is honeycombed with well-conducted
+dens of impurity. The women of a certain class have
+fixed upon the parish as their home. I don't mean the
+starving prostitute that one meets in the East End, I
+mean the fairly prosperous, utterly vicious, lazy women.
+You will meet with horrors of vice, a marvellous and
+stony indifference, in the course of your work. To reach
+some of these well-dressed, well-fed, well-housed girls, to
+show them the spiritual and even the economic and material
+end of their lives, requires almost superhuman
+powers. If an angel came some of them would not believe.
+And in the great and luxurious buildings of flats
+which have sprung up in all the squares, the well-known
+London <i>demi-mondaines</i>&mdash;people who dance upon the
+stage and whose pictures glare upon one from every
+hoarding&mdash;have made their homes and constantly parade
+before the eyes of others the wealth which is the reward
+of lust.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a wicked part of London, Gortre. And yet,
+day by day, in our beautiful church, where the Eucharist
+is celebrated and prayers go up unceasingly, we have
+evidences that our work is acceptable and that the Power
+is with us. Magdalen still comes with her jewels and
+her tears of repentance. I ask and beg of you to re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>member
+certain things&mdash;keep them always before your
+eyes&mdash;during your ministry among us. Whenever a man
+or woman comes to you, either at confession or otherwise,
+and tells of incredible sins, welcome the very slightest
+movement towards the light. Cultivate an all-embracing
+sympathy. I firmly believe that more souls have
+been lost by a repellent manner on the part of a priest,
+or an apparent lack of understanding, than any one has
+any idea of. Remember that when a thoroughly evil
+and warped nature has made a great effort and laid its
+spiritual case before a priest, it expects in its inner consciousness
+a pat on the back for its new efforts. It wants
+commendation. One <i>must</i> fight warily, with a thorough
+psychological knowledge, with a broad humanity. To
+take even the slightest signs of repentance as a matter of
+course, to throw any doubt upon its reality or permanence,
+is to accept an awful responsibility. Err rather on the
+side of sentiment. Who are we to judge?"</p>
+
+<p>Gortre had listened with deep attention to Father
+Ripon's earnest words. He began to realise more clearly
+the difficulties of his new life. And yet the obstacles
+did not daunt him. They seemed rather a trumpet note
+for battle. Ripon's enthusiasm was contagious; he felt
+the exhilaration of the tried soldier at a coming contest.</p>
+
+<p>"One more thing," said the vicar. "In all your teaching
+and preaching hammer away at the great central fact
+of the Incarnation. No system of morals will reach these
+people&mdash;however plausible, however pure&mdash;unless you
+constantly bring the supernatural side of religion before
+them. Preach the Incarnation day in, day out. Don't,
+like so many men, regard it as an accepted fact merely,
+using it as a postulate on which to found a scheme of
+conduct. Once get the central truth of all into the
+hearts of a congregation, and then all else will follow.
+Now, good-night. I've kept you late, but I wished to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>
+have a talk with you. A good deal will devolve upon you.
+I have especially arranged that you should not live in the
+Clergy House with Stokes, Carr, and myself. I would
+rather that your environment should be more secular.
+Stokes and Carr are perhaps a little too priestly, too "professional"
+in manner, if you understand what I am driving
+at. Keep yourself from that. If you go among the
+young men, see them at home, smoke with them, and take
+what they offer you in the way of refreshment. Well,
+good-bye. You are to preach at Sunday Evensongs
+you know. Sir Michael Manichoe, our patron, will be
+there, and there will be a large congregation."</p>
+
+<p>He turned, said good-night with sudden abruptness,
+as if he had been lingering too long and was displeased
+with himself, and hurried away. It was his usual manner
+of farewell.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">A few minutes afterwards Gortre went to bed. He
+found it difficult to believe that he had walked down
+the Faubourg de la Barre that morning. It had been a
+crowded day.</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></h2>
+
+<h4>THE RESURRECTION SERMON</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">S</span><span class="smcap">ir Michael Manichoe</span> was the great help
+and standby of St. Mary's. His father had been a
+wealthy banker in Rome, and a Jew. The son, who had
+enormously increased his inherited wealth, was an early
+convert to Christianity during his Oxford days in
+England. He was the Conservative member for a division
+in Lincolnshire, where his great country house was
+situated, and had become a pillar of the Church and
+State in England. In the House of Commons he presented
+the somewhat curious spectacle of a Jew by birth
+leading the moderate "Catholic" party. He was the
+great antagonist of Constantine Schuabe, and with
+equal wealth and position, though Schuabe was by far
+the more brilliant of the two men, he devoted all his
+energies to the opposition of the secular and agnostic
+influences of his political rival.</p>
+
+<p>Every Sunday during the session, when he was in London,
+Sir Michael drove to St. Mary's for both morning
+and evening service. He was church warden, and intimately
+concerned in all the parochial business, while
+his purse was always open at Father Ripon's request.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre had been introduced to Sir Michael during the
+week, and he knew the great man purposed attending to
+hear his first sermon at St. Mary's on the Sunday
+evening.</p>
+
+<p>He prepared his discourse with extreme care. A
+natural wish to make a good first impression animated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>
+him; but, as he sat late on the Saturday night, finally
+arranging his notes, he began to be conscious of new and
+surprising thoughts about the coming event. Earlier in
+the evening he had been talking to Hands, but the
+arch�ologist had gone to bed and left him alone.</p>
+
+<p>The day had been a gloomy one. A black pall of fog
+fell over London at dawn, and had remained all day, almost
+choking him as he said evensong in the almost
+empty church.</p>
+
+<p>All day long he had felt strangely overweighted and
+depressed. A chance paragraph in an evening paper,
+stating that Mr. Schuabe, M.P., had returned from a
+short Continental trip, started an uneasy and gloomy
+train of thought. The memory of the terrible night at
+Walktown recurred to him with a horrible sense of unreality,
+the picture blurred somewhat, as if the fingers of
+the disease which had struck him down had already been
+pressing on his brain when he had been alone with the
+millionaire. Much of what he remembered of that dread
+interview must have been delusion. And yet in all other
+matters he was sane and unprejudiced enough. Many
+times he had met and argued with unbelievers. They
+had saddened him, but no more. Why was it that this
+man, notorious atheist as he was, filled him with a shuddering
+fear, a horror for which he had no name?</p>
+
+<p>Then also, what had been the significance of the incident
+at Dieppe&mdash;its true significance? Sir Robert
+Llwellyn had also inspired him with a feeling of utter
+loathing and abhorrence, though perhaps in a less degree.
+There was the sudden glimpse of Schuabe's signature on
+the letter. What was the connection between the two
+men? How could the Antichristian be in friendly communion
+with the greatest Higher Critic of the time?</p>
+
+<p>He recalled an even more sinister occurrence, or so it
+had seemed to him. Two days after his first introduction<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
+to Llwellyn and the dinner at the Pannier d'Or he had
+seen him enter the Paris train <i>with Schuabe</i> himself, who
+had just arrived from England. He had said nothing
+of the incident to Mr. Byars or Helena. They would
+have regarded it as ordinary enough. They knew nothing
+of what had passed between him and Schuabe.
+The deliberate words of Sir Robert at the restaurant
+recurred to him again and again, taking possession of his
+brain and ousting all other thoughts. What new discoveries
+was the Professor hinting at?</p>
+
+<p>What did the whole obsession of his brain mean?</p>
+
+<p>Curiously enough, he felt certain that these thoughts
+were in no way heralds of a new attack of brain fever.
+He knew this for a certainty. It seemed as if the persistent
+whisperings within him were rather the results
+of some spiritual message, as if the unseen agency which
+prompted them had some definite end and purpose in
+view.</p>
+
+<p>The more he prayed the stronger his premonitions became;
+added force was given to them, as if they were
+the direct causes of his supplications.</p>
+
+<p>It almost seemed that God was speaking to him.</p>
+
+<p>He had questioned Hands cautiously, trying to learn if
+any new and important facts bearing upon Biblical history
+were indeed likely to be discovered in the near
+future.</p>
+
+<p>But the answer did not amount to very much. The
+new and extensive excavations, under the permission of
+the lately granted firman from the Turkish Government,
+were only just beginning. The real work was to commence
+when Hands had finished his work in London
+and had returned to take charge of the operations.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, Hands had said there were possibilities of
+discovery of first-class importance, but he doubted it.
+The locality of Golgotha and the Holy Sepulchre was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
+already established, in Hands's opinion. He had but
+little doubt of the authenticity of the established sites.
+Llwellyn's theories he scouted altogether, while agreeing
+with him in his negation of the Gordon Tomb.</p>
+
+<p>So there had been very little from Hands that was in
+any way satisfactory to Basil.</p>
+
+<p>But as he sat in the great silence of the night and
+read over the heads of the sermon a great sense of comfort
+came to him. He felt a mysterious sense of power,
+not merely because he knew the work was good, but
+something beyond that. He was conscious that for some
+reason or other that particular sermon which he was
+about to preach was one on which much depended. He
+could not say how or why he knew the thing was fraught
+with destiny to himself or others. He only knew it.</p>
+
+<p>Many years afterwards he remembered that quiet
+night, and the help which seemed to come to him suddenly,
+a renewed hope and confidence after the mental
+misery of the day.</p>
+
+<p>When he looked back on the terrible and stupendous
+events in which he had played so prominent a part, he
+was able to see clearly the chain of events, and to place
+his experience about what he always afterwards called
+his "Resurrection sermon" in their proper sequence.</p>
+
+<p>Looking back through the years, he saw that a more
+than mortal power was guiding him towards the fulfilment
+of a Divine purpose.</p>
+
+<p>But that night as he said his prayers before going
+to sleep he only felt a sweet security as he glanced at
+the MS. on the chair by his bedside.</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">The future was not yet revealed to him. God spared
+him the torture of foreknowledge.</p>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p>The pulpit was high above the heads of the people,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
+much higher than is usual, a box of stone set in the
+great arch of the chancel.</p>
+
+<p>As Gortre stood for a moment, after the prayer, he
+kissed the stole and placed it, as a yoke, upon his
+shoulders. He looked down the great building and saw
+the hundreds of watchful, expectant faces, with an
+uplifting sense of power. He felt as if he were a mouthpiece
+of strange, unseen forces. The air seemed full of
+wings.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the preacher paused and sent a keen
+glance over the congregation below. He saw Sir
+Michael Manichoe, dark, aquiline, Semitic, sitting in his
+front pew. A few seats behind him, with a sudden
+throb of surprise but nothing else, the calm and evil
+beauty of Constantine Schuabe's face looked up at him.</p>
+
+<p>The strangeness of the appearance and the shock
+of it had at that moment no menace or intimidation for
+him. Standing there to deliver God's message, in God's
+house, his enemy seemed to have no power to throw his
+brain into its old fear and tumult.</p>
+
+<p>Another face, unknown to him, arrested his attention.</p>
+
+<p>The sexes were not separated for worship in St.
+Mary's. In the same seat where Schuabe sat was a
+woman, dark, handsome, expensively dressed.</p>
+
+<p>She also was Jewish in appearance, though it was
+obvious that there was no connection between her and
+the millionaire. Her face, as the young clergyman's eyes
+rested on it for a second, seemed to be curiously familiar,
+as if he saw it every day of his life, but it nevertheless
+struck no <i>personal</i> note.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre began to speak, taking for his text part of
+a verse from the Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans&mdash;"<i>Declared
+to be the Son of God with power, according to
+the spirit of holiness, by the resurrection of the dead.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"In this world of to-day," he began calmly, and with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>
+certain deliberation and precision in his utterance,
+"what men in general are hungering after is a positive
+assurance of actual spiritual agency in the world. They
+crave for something to hold by which is outside themselves,
+and which cannot have grown out of the inner
+persuasions of men. They cannot understand people
+who tell them that, whether the events of the Gospels
+actually passed upon earth or not, they may fashion
+their own dispositions all the same, on the supposition
+that these events occurred. If I can to-night show
+that any appearance of the Risen Lord is attested in
+the same way as are certain facts commonly accepted
+as history, I shall have accomplished as much as I can
+hope."</p>
+
+<p>Then, very carefully, Gortre went through the scientific
+and historical evidences for the truth of the Resurrection.
+Gradually, as he marshalled his proofs and
+brought forth one after the other, he began, by a sort
+of unconscious hypnotism of the eye, to make the seat
+where Schuabe and the strange woman sat his objective.</p>
+
+<p>Many speakers have this automatic habit of addressing
+one or two persons as if they were the ear of the
+whole congregation. It is said that by such means,
+even if unconsciously employed, the brain becomes
+more concentrated and clearer for the work in hand.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the preacher's voice became more resonant
+and triumphant. To many of the congregation the
+overwhelming and stupendous evidences for the truth of
+the Gospel narratives which the study of late years has
+collected was entirely new. The Higher Criticism, the
+fact that it is not only in science that "discoveries" can
+be made, the excavations in the East and the newly discovered
+MSS., with their variations of reading, the possibility
+that the lost Aramaic original of St. Matthew's
+Gospel may yet be discovered, were all things which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
+came to them for the first time in their lives. Gortre's
+words began to open up to them an entirely new train of
+thought. Their interest was profoundly quickened.</p>
+
+<p>Very few clergymen of middle age are cognisant of
+the latest theological thought. Time, money, and lack
+of education alike prevent them. The slight mental
+endowment and very ordinary education which are all
+that is absolutely necessary for an ordination candidate,
+are not realised by the ordinary member of a church congregation.
+The mass of the English clergy to-day are
+content to leave such questions alone, to do their duty
+simply, to impose upon their flock the necessity of
+"faith," and to deny the right of individual judgment
+and speculation.</p>
+
+<p>They do not realise that the world of their middle age
+is more educated, and so more intelligent, than the
+world of their youth, and that, if the public intellect is
+nurtured by the public, those whose duty it is to keep it
+within the fold of Christianity must provide it with a
+food suited to its development.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre, in his sermon, had crystallised and boiled
+down into pregnant paragraphs, without circumlocution
+or obscurity, all the brilliant work of Latham, Westcott,
+Professor Ramsay, and Homersham Cox. He quoted
+Renan's passage from <i>Les Ap�tres</i>, dealing with the finding
+of the empty tomb, and showed the flaws and fallacies
+in that brilliant piece of antichristian suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>As he began to bring his arguments to a close he was
+conscious that the people were with him. He could feel
+the brains around him thinking in unison; it was almost as
+if he <i>heard</i> the thoughts of the congregation. The dark,
+handsome woman stared straight up at him. Trouble
+was in her eyes, an awakened consciousness, and Gortre
+knew that the truth was dropping steadily into her
+mind, and that conviction was unwelcome and alarming.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And he felt also the bitter antagonism which was
+alive and working behind the impassive face and half-closed
+eyes of the millionaire below. It was a silent
+duel between them. He knew that his words were full
+of meaning, <i>even of conviction</i>, to the man, and yet he
+was subjectively conscious of some <i>reserve</i> of force,
+some hidden sense of fearful power, a desperate resolve
+which he could not overcome.</p>
+
+<p>His soul wrestled in this dark, mysterious conflict as
+with a devil, but could not prevail.</p>
+
+<p>He finished all his argument, the last of his proofs.
+There was a hushed silence in the church.</p>
+
+<p>Then swiftly, with a voice which trembled with the
+power that was given him, he called them to repentance
+and a new life. <i>If</i>, he said, his words had carried conviction
+of the truth of Christ's resurrection, of His divinity,
+then, believing that, there was but one course open
+to them all. For to know the truth, and to believe it,
+and to continue in indifference, was to kill the soul.</p>
+
+<p>It was over. Father Ripon had pronounced the blessing,
+the great organ was thundering out the requiem of
+another Sunday, and Sir Michael was shaking hands
+warmly with Basil in the vestry.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre was tired and shaken by the long, nervous
+strain, but the evident pleasure of Father Ripon and
+Sir Michael, the knowledge that he had acquitted himself
+well, was comforting and sustaining.</p>
+
+<p>He walked home, down quiet Holborn, curiously
+dead without the traffic of a week day and the lights of
+the shop fronts, and not reanimated by the strolling
+pedestrians, young people of the lower classes from the
+East End, who thronged it.</p>
+
+<p>Lincoln's Inn was wonderfully soothing and quiet as
+his footsteps echoed in the old quadrangle. After a
+lonely, tranquil supper&mdash;Hands was at a dinner-party<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
+somewhere in Mayfair and Spence was at the office of
+<i>The Daily Wire</i> preparing for Monday's paper&mdash;he
+wheeled a small writing-desk up to the fireside and
+began a long letter of news and thankfulness to Helena.</p>
+
+<p>He pictured the pleasant dining-room at Walktown,
+the Sunday night's supper,&mdash;an institution at the Vicarage
+after the labours of the busiest day in the week,&mdash;with
+a guest or two perhaps.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">He knew they would be thinking of him, as he of
+them, and pictured the love-light in his lady's sweet,
+calm eyes.</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></h2>
+
+<h4>"NEITHER DO I CONDEMN THEE"</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">A</span><span class="smcap">utumn</span> came to London, a warm, lingering season.
+There was a hint of the South in the atmosphere
+of town. All business moved with languor;
+there was more enjoyment in life as people went and
+came through the streets under so ripe and genial a sun.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre had settled down to steady, regular work. At
+no time before had a routine been so pleasant to him.
+His days were full of work, which, hard as it was, came
+to him with far more appeal than his duties at Walktown.
+Nothing ever stagnated here, at the very hub
+and centre of things.</p>
+
+<p>The splendid energy and force of Father Ripon, the
+magnificent unconvention of his methods, animated his
+staff to constant and unflagging exertions.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre felt that he was suddenly "grown up," that his
+life before had been spent in futile playtime compared
+to the present.</p>
+
+<p>One central fact in St. Mary's parish held all the great
+organisation together. This was the daily services in
+the great church. Priests, deacons, sisters of mercy,
+school teachers, and lay helpers all drew their strength
+and inspiration from this source. The daily Eucharist,
+matins, evensong, were both a stimulus and stimulant of
+enormous power.</p>
+
+<p>Church brought the mysteries in which they lived,
+moved, and had their being into intimate relation with
+every circumstance of daily life.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The extraordinary thing, which many of Father
+Ripon's staff were almost unable to understand, was that
+more people did not avail themselves of what they regarded&mdash;viewing
+the thing from a standpoint of personal
+experience&mdash;such helpful opportunities.</p>
+
+<p>"They are always coming to me," Father Ripon had
+said on one occasion, "and complaining that they find
+such a tremendous difficulty in leading a holy life&mdash;say
+that the worldly surroundings and so forth kill their
+good impulses&mdash;and yet they <i>won't</i> come to church.
+People are such fools! My young men imagine that
+they can become good Christians by a sort of sudden
+magic&mdash;a low beast on Saturday night, the twentieth of
+August, and, after a nerve storm in church and a few
+tears in the vestry, a saint for evermore! And then
+when they get drunk or do something beastly the next
+week, they rail against the Christian Faith because it
+isn't a sort of spiritual hand cuffs! And yet if you told
+them you could manage a bank after merely experience
+in a shipping office, they would see the absurdity of that
+at once. Donkeys!"</p>
+
+<p>This with a genial smile of tenderness and compassion,
+for this Whirlwind in a Cassock loved his flock.</p>
+
+<p>So from the very first Basil had found his life congenial.
+Privately he blessed his good fortune in living
+in Lincoln's Inn with Spence. On the nights when the
+journalist was free from the office, and not otherwise
+engaged, the two men sat late with pipes and coffee,
+enjoying that vigorous communion of two keen, young,
+and virile brains which is one of the truly stimulating
+pleasures of life.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre admired Spence greatly for some of his qualities.
+His intellect was, of course, first class&mdash;his high
+position on the great daily paper guaranteed that. His
+reading and sympathies were wide. Moreover, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
+clergyman found a great refreshment in the fact that, in
+an age of indifference, at a time when the best intellects
+of younger London life were professedly agnostic,
+Harold Spence was an avowed Christian and Churchman.
+As Gortre got to know him better, when the
+silence and detachment of midnight in the old Inn
+broke down reticence, he realised with a sense of thankfulness,
+and sometimes of fear also, how a thorough
+belief in religion kept the writer straight and captain of
+his own soul.</p>
+
+<p>For the man was a creature of strong passions and
+wayward desires. He had not always been the clean
+gentleman of the present. As is so often the case with
+a refined and cultured temperament, he had a dark and
+ugly side to his nature. The coarse vices of the blood
+called to him long and often with their hollow siren
+voices. Evil came to him with swift invitation and cunning
+allurement. He had hinted to Basil of days of sin
+and secret shame. And now, very soberly and without
+any emotion, he clung to Christ for help.</p>
+
+<p>And he had conquered.</p>
+
+<p>This was ever a glorious fact to Basil, another miracle
+in those thousands of daily miracles which were happening
+all around him. But his fear for Harold came from
+his realisation of his friend's exact spiritual grip. Spence's
+Christianity was rather too <i>utilitarian</i> for safety. Perhaps
+the deep inward conviction was weak. It seemed
+sometimes as if it were a barren, thorny thing&mdash;too much
+fetish, too much a return for benefits received, a sort of
+half-conscious bargain. He often prayed long that nothing
+should ever occur to shake Spence's belief; for he
+felt, if that should happen, the disaster would prove irreparable.
+A dammed river is a dangerous thing.</p>
+
+<p>But he kept all these thoughts locked in his heart, and
+never spoke of them to Harold.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Since the evening of his first sermon he had never seen
+Schuabe again. Now and then the thought of him passed
+through his brain, and his mental sight seemed obscured
+for a moment, as though great wings hid the sun from
+him. But since the silent duel in the church, the curious
+and malign influence of the millionaire had waned. It
+was prominent no longer, and when it troubled him it
+did so without power and force. Fine health, the tonic
+of constant work, the armour of continual prayer, had
+their way and were able to banish much of what he now
+looked back on as morbidity, sinister though it had been.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, one thing often reminded him of that
+night. The dark, Jewish-looking lady he had seen sitting
+in the same pew with Schuabe often came to church
+on Sunday nights when he was preaching. The bold
+and insolently beautiful face looked up at him with
+steady interest. The fierce regard had something passionate
+and yet wistful in it.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes Basil found himself preaching almost directly
+to the face and soul of the unknown woman.
+There was an understanding between them. He knew
+it; he felt it most certainly.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes she would remain in her seat after the mass
+of the congregation had shuffled away into the night.
+She did not pray, but sat still, with her musing eyes
+fixed on the huge ten-foot crucifix that swung down from
+the chancel arch.</p>
+
+<p>Once, as he passed the pew on the way to baptise the
+child of a poor woman of the streets&mdash;brought in furtively
+after the Sunday evensong&mdash;she made a movement
+as if to speak to him. He had waited in expectation for
+a moment, but she remained still, and he passed on to
+the font, with its sad cluster of outcasts, its dim gas-jets,
+and the tiny child of shame with its thin cry of distress.</p>
+
+<p>He was asking the tremendous question&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>
+"<i>Dost thou, in the name of this child, renounce the devil
+and all his works, the vain pomp and glory of the world,
+with all covetous desires of the same, and the carnal desires
+of the flesh, so that thou wilt not follow nor be led by them?</i>"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>when he saw that the unknown woman was standing by
+within the shadow of a pillar. A gleam of yellow light
+fell through the dark on her rich dress, her eye glittered
+behind her white veil. He thought there was a tear in
+it. But when he was saying the exhortation he saw that
+the tall, silent figure had departed.</p>
+
+<p>He often wondered who the woman was,&mdash;if he should
+ever know her.</p>
+
+<p>Something told him that she wanted help. Something
+assured him that he should some day give it to her.</p>
+
+<p>And beyond this there was an unexplained conviction
+within him that the stranger was in some way concerned
+and bound up in the part he was to play in life.</p>
+
+<p>Long ago he had realised that it was idle to deny the
+interference of supernatural personalities in human life.
+Accepting the Incarnation, he accepted the Communion
+of Saints. And he was always conscious of hidden
+powers moulding, directing him.</p>
+
+<p>The episode of the cigarettes happened in this way.</p>
+
+<p>Stokes, one of Gortre's fellow-curates, came to supper
+one night in Lincoln's Inn.</p>
+
+<p>Spence was there also, as it was one of his free nights.</p>
+
+<p>About ten o'clock supper was over and they proposed
+to have a little music. Stokes was a fine pianist, and he
+had brought some of the nocturnes and ballads of Chopin
+with him, to try on the little black-cased piano which
+stood at an obtuse angle with the end of the large sitting-room.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you smoke, Stokes?" Spence said.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, I'll have a cigarette," the young man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>
+replied. "I can't stand cigars, and I've left my pipe
+at the Clergy House."</p>
+
+<p>They looked for cigarettes in the silver box lined with
+cedar which stood on the mantel-shelf, but some one had
+smoked them all and the box was empty.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind," Spence said; "I've been meaning to
+run out and get a late <i>Westminster</i> and I'll buy some
+cigarettes, too. There's a shop at the Holborn end of
+the Lane, next to the shop where the oysters come from,
+and it won't be shut yet."</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes he came back with several packets of
+cigarettes in his hand. "I've brought Virginian," he
+said; "I know you can't stand Egyptian, none of us can,
+and if these are cheap, they're good, too."</p>
+
+<p>Till eleven o'clock Stokes played to them&mdash;Chopin's
+wild music of melancholy and fire&mdash;and as the hour
+struck he went home.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre and Spence sat and talked casually after he had
+gone, about the music they had heard, the cartoon in the
+evening paper, anything that came.</p>
+
+<p>Basil had not been smoking during the evening. He
+had been too intent upon the nocturnes, and now he felt
+a want of tobacco. One of the packets of cigarettes lay
+by him on the table. He pulled up the flaps and took
+one. Without thinking what he was doing he drew a
+little photograph, highly finished and very clear, from
+the tiny cardboard case.</p>
+
+<p>He glanced at it casually.</p>
+
+<p>The thing was one of those pictures of burlesque
+actresses which are given away with this kind of tobacco.
+A tall girl with short skirts and a large picture hat was
+shown in a coquettish attitude that was meant to be full
+of invitation.</p>
+
+<p>Basil looked at it steadily with a curious expression on
+his face. Then he took a large reading-glass from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>
+table and examined it again, magnifying it to many times
+its original size.</p>
+
+<p>He scrutinised it with great care. It was the portrait
+of the strange girl who came to St. Mary's.</p>
+
+<p>Basil had told Spence of this woman, and now he
+passed the photograph on to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Harold, that is the girl who comes to church and
+looks so unhappy. She is an actress, of course. The
+name is underneath&mdash;Miss Gertrude Hunt. Who is Miss
+Gertrude Hunt?"</p>
+
+<p>Spence took the thing. "How very queer!" he said,
+"to find your unknown like this. Gertrude Hunt?
+Why, she is a well-known musical comedy girl, sings and
+dances at the Regent, you know. There are all the usual
+stories about the lady, but possibly they are all lies. I'm
+sure I don't know. I've chucked that sort of society
+long ago. Are you sure it's the same person?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, quite sure! Of course, this shows the girl in a
+different dress and so on, but it's she without a doubt.
+I am glad she comes to church. It is not what one expects
+from what one hears of that class of woman, and
+it's not what one generally finds in the parish."</p>
+
+<p>He sighed, thinking of the many chilling experiences
+of the last few months in the vice-haunted streets and
+squares of Bloomsbury.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Spence, "experiments with that type are
+generally failures, and sometimes dangerous to the experimenter.
+You remember Anatole France's <i>Thais</i>?
+But this damsel is no Thais certainly, and you aren't a
+bit like Paphuntius. I hope you will be able to do some
+good. Personally, anything of the sort would be quite
+impossible to me. Good-night, old man. I'm going to
+turn in. I've a hard day's work to-morrow. Sleep
+well."</p>
+
+<p>He went out of the room with a yawn.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>When he was left alone, with his little mystery solved
+in so commonplace a fashion, Basil was conscious of a
+curious disappointment. It was an anti-climax.</p>
+
+<p>He had no narrow objection to the theatre. Now and
+then he had been to see famous actors in great plays.
+His occasional visits to the theatres of Irving or Wyndham
+had given him pleasure, nevertheless he had always
+felt a slight instinctive dislike to the trade of a mime.
+All voluntary sacrifices of personal dignity affect the
+average English temperament in this way more or less.
+However much the apologists of the stage may cry "art"
+or "beneficial influence," your British thinker is not
+convinced that there is anything very worthy in painting
+the face and making the body a public show for a wage.
+And there is sometimes a kind of wonder in the heart of
+a sincere Christian who attends a theatre as he remembers
+that the body is the Temple of the Holy Spirit.</p>
+
+<p>Still Basil was tolerant enough. But this case which
+had thrust itself before him was quite different. He
+knew that the burlesque, the modern music play, made,
+first and foremost, a frank appeal to the senses. Its
+hopeless vulgarity and coarseness of sentiment, its entire
+lack of appeal to anything that was not debased and materialistic,
+were ordinary indisputable facts of every-day
+life. And so his lady of evensong was a high-priestess
+of nothing better than this cult of froth and gaudy sensuality.
+More than all others, his experiences of late
+had taught him that women of this class seemed to be
+very nearly soulless. Their souls had dissolved in champagne,
+their consciences were burnt up by the feverish
+excitement and pleasure of their lives. They sold themselves
+for luxury and the adulation of coarse men.</p>
+
+<p>His very chagrin made him bitter and contemptuous
+more than his wont.</p>
+
+<p>Then his eye lit upon a photogravure hung upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>
+opposite wall. It was the reproduction of a quaint,
+decorative, stilted picture by an artist of the early Umbrian
+school, and represented St. Mary Magdalene.</p>
+
+<p>The coincidence checked his contemptuous thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>He began to reconstruct the scene in his brain, a
+favourite and profitable exercise of his, using his knowledge
+and study of the old dim times to animate the
+picture and make it vivid.</p>
+
+<p>They were all resting, or rather lying, around the table,
+the body resting on the couch, the feet turned away from
+the table in the direction of the wall, while the left elbow
+rested on the table.</p>
+
+<p>And then, from the open courtyard, up the verandah
+step, perhaps through an antechamber, and by the open
+door, passed the figure of a woman into the festive reception-room
+and dining-hall. How had she gained
+access? How incongruous her figure must have been
+there! In those days the Jewish prejudice against any
+conversation with women&mdash;even those of the most lofty
+character&mdash;was extreme.</p>
+
+<p>The shadow of her form must have fallen on all who
+sat at meat. But no one spoke, nor did she heed any
+but One only.</p>
+
+<p>The woman had brought with her an <i>alabastron</i> of
+perfume. It was a flask of precious <i>foliatum</i>, probably,
+which women wore round the neck, and which hung over
+the breast. The woman stood behind Him at His feet,
+and as she bowed reverently a shower of tears, like sudden
+summer rain, "bedewed" His feet.</p>
+
+<p>Basil went through the whole scene until the final,
+"Go <i>into</i> peace" not go <i>in</i> peace, as the logical dogmatics
+would have had it.</p>
+
+<p>And so she, the first who had come to Him for spiritual
+healing, went out into the better light, and into the
+eternal peace of the Kingdom of Heaven.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Basil tore up the vulgar little photograph and forgot
+that aspect of the dancer. He remembered rather the
+dim figure by the font.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">There was a sudden furious knocking on the outer
+door of the chambers, and he went to open it.</p>
+<hr class="r20" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a></h2>
+
+<h4>POWERS OF GOOD AND EVIL</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">G</span><span class="smcap">ortre</span> felt certain that his vicar stood without.
+His knocking was full of militant Christianity.
+The tumultuous energy of the man without communicated
+its own stir and disturbance to Basil's brain by the
+most subtle of all forms of telepathy&mdash;that "telepathy"
+which, in a few more years, will have its definite recipes
+and formul�.</p>
+
+<p>Father Ripon refused to live by any standard of measured
+time. He refused&mdash;so he said&mdash;to believe that a
+wretched little clock really knew what the great golden
+sun was doing. He had found it impossible to call on
+Gortre before this late hour, and he came regardless of
+it now. He wished to see Basil, and he came now with
+a supreme and simple carelessness of conventional time.</p>
+
+<p>As usual, the worthy man was hungry, and the <i>d�bris</i> of
+supper on the table reminded him of that. He sat down
+at once and began to eat rapidly, telling his story between
+mouthfuls.</p>
+
+<p>"I bring you news of a famous opportunity," he said.
+"If you go to work in the right way you may win a soul.
+It's a poor <i>demi-mondaine</i> creature, a dancer at the
+theatres. She came to me in her brougham, her furs,
+and finery, and had a chat in my study. I gave her tea
+and a cigarette&mdash;you know I always keep some cigarettes
+for the choir-men or teachers when they call. All these
+women smoke. It's a great thing to treat these people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
+with understanding and knowledge, Gortre. Don't
+'come the priest' over them, as a coster said to me last
+week. When they realise that one is a man, <i>then</i> they
+are fifty times more willing to allow the other and more
+important thing.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this poor girl told me all about it, the same
+very sordid story one is always hearing. She is a favourite
+burlesque actress, and she lives very expensively in
+those gorgeous new flats&mdash;Bloomsbury Court. Some
+wealthy scoundrel pays for it all. A man 'in a very high
+position,' as she said with a pathetic little touch of pride
+which made me want to weep. Oh, my dear fellow, if
+the world only knew what I know! Great and honoured
+names in the senate, the forum, the Court, unsullied before
+the eyes of men. And then these hideous establishments
+and secret ties! This is a wicked city. The
+deadly lusts which war against the soul are great, powerful,
+and militant all around us.</p>
+
+<p>"This poor woman has been coming regularly to
+church on Sundays. The first time was when you
+preached your capital sermon on the Resurrection.
+Now, she is dying from a slow complaint. She will live
+a year or two, the doctors think, and that is all. It does
+not prevent her from living her ordinary life, but it will
+strike her down suddenly some day.</p>
+
+<p>"She has expressed a wish to see you to talk things
+over with you. She thinks you can help her. Go to
+her and save her. We <i>must</i>."</p>
+
+<p>He handed Gortre a visiting-card, on which he saw
+the name of Gertrude Hunt with a curious lack of surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I must be off," said Father Ripon, rising from
+the table with a large hunk of bread and cheese in one
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Go and see this poor woman to-morrow evening.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
+She tells me she isn't acting for a week or two,&mdash;rehearsing
+some new play. Isn't it wonderful to think of the
+things that are going on every day? Just think of the
+Holy Spirit pouring into this sinning creature's heart,
+catching her in the middle of her champagne and frivolity,
+and just turning her, almost <i>compelling</i> her towards Christ!
+And men like John Morley or Constantine Schuabe say
+there is no truth in Christianity!&mdash;I'll take one of these
+apples&mdash;poor fools! Now I must go and write my
+sermon."</p>
+
+<p>He was gone in a clattering rush.</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">For a long time Basil sat thinking. The mysterious
+links of some great chain were being revealed inch by
+inch. Wonderful as these circumstances already seemed
+to him, he felt sure there was far more behind them than
+he knew as yet. There was some unseen tie, some influence
+that drew his thoughts ever more and more
+towards the library in the palace at Manchester.</p>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p>The next evening a maid showed Gortre into the hall
+of the flat of Bloomsbury Court Mansions, eyeing him
+curiously as she did so.</p>
+
+<p>He passed down the richly carpeted passage with a
+quickening of all his pulses, noticing the Moorish lamps
+of copper studded with turquoise which threw a dim
+crimson light over everything, marking the ostentatious
+luxury of the place with wonder.</p>
+
+<p>Gertrude Hunt lay back in a low arm-chair. She was
+dressed in a long, dull red teagown of cashmere, with a
+broad white band round the neck opening of white Indian
+needlework, embroidered with dark green leaves.</p>
+
+<p>Her face was pale and tired.</p>
+
+<p>Despite the general warmth of the time, a fire burnt
+steadily on the hearth.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre sat down at her invitation, and they fell into a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>
+desultory conversation. He waited for her to open on
+the real subjects that had brought him there.</p>
+
+<p>He watched the tired, handsome face. Coarse it certainly
+was, in expression rather than feature, but that
+very coarseness gave it power. This woman, who lived
+the life of a doll, had character. One saw that. Perhaps,
+he thought, as he looked at her, that the very
+eagerness and greed for pleasure marked in her face, the
+passionate determination to tear the heart and core out
+of life, might still be directed to purer and nobler ends.</p>
+
+<p>Then she began to talk to him quite frankly, and with
+no disguise or slurring over the facts of her life.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sick and tired of it all, Mr. Gortre," she said
+bitterly. "You can't know what it means a bit&mdash;lucky
+for you. Imagine spending all your life in a room
+painted bright yellow, eating nothing but chocolate
+creams, with a band playing comic songs for ever and
+ever. And even then you won't get it."</p>
+
+<p>Basil shuddered. There was something so poignant
+and forceful in her words that they hurt, stung like a
+whip-lash. He was being brought into terrible contact
+not only with sin and the satiety of sin, but with its results.
+The hideous staleness and torture of it all appalled
+him as he looked at this human personification of it in
+the crimson gown.</p>
+
+<p>"That's how it was at first," she continued. "I
+knew there was something more than this in life, though.
+I could read it in people's faces. So I came to the
+service at your church one Sunday evening. I'd never
+made fun of religion and all that at any time. I simply
+couldn't believe it, that was all. Then I heard you
+preach on the Resurrection. I heard all the proofs for
+the first time. Of course, I could see there wasn't any
+doubt about the matter at all. Then, curiously, directly
+I began to <i>believe</i> in it I began to hate the way I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>
+going on, so I went to Father Ripon, who was very nice,
+and he said you'd call."</p>
+
+<p>"I quite understand you, Miss Hunt," said Gortre.
+"That's the beauty of faith. When once you believe,
+then you've <i>got</i> to change. It's a great pity, a very
+great pity, that clergymen don't attempt to explain
+things more than they do. If one isn't built in a certain
+way, I can quite understand and sympathise with
+any one who isn't able to take a parson's mere statement
+on trust, so to speak. But that's beside the way. <i>You</i>
+believe at any rate. And now what are you going to do?
+I'm here to help you in every possible way. I want to
+hear your views, just as you have thought them out."</p>
+
+<p>"I like that," she said. "That's practical and
+sensible. I've never cared very much for sentimental
+ways of looking at things. You know I can't live very
+long. I've got enough to live quietly on for some years,
+put away in a bank, money I've made acting. I haven't
+spent a penny of my salary for years&mdash;I've made the
+men pay for everything. I shall go quietly away to the
+country and be alone with my thoughts, close to a little
+quiet church. You'll find a place for me, won't you?
+That's what I want to do. But there's something in
+the way, and a big something, too."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm here to help that," said Basil.</p>
+
+<p>"It's Bob," she answered. "The man that keeps
+me. I'm afraid of him. He's been away for months,
+out of England, but he's coming back at once. To-morrow
+as likely as not, he couldn't say to a day. I
+had a letter from Brindisi last week. He's been to
+Palestine, <i>via</i> Alexandria."</p>
+
+<p>A quick premonition took hold of the young man.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is he?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>She took a photograph from the mantel-shelf and gave
+it to him. It was one of the Stereoscopic Company's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+series of "celebrities." Under the portrait was printed&mdash;"Sir
+Robert Llwellyn."</p>
+
+<p>Gortre started violently.</p>
+
+<p>"I know him," he said thickly. "I felt when I met
+him&mdash;What does it all mean?"</p>
+
+<p>He dropped his head into his hands, filled with the
+old, nameless, unreasoning fear.</p>
+
+<p>She looked steadily at him, wondering at his manner.</p>
+
+<p>There was a tense silence for a time.</p>
+
+<p>In the silence suddenly they heard a sound, clear and
+distinct. A key was being inserted into the door of the
+flat.</p>
+
+<p>They waited breathlessly. Gertrude Hunt grew very
+white. Without any words from her, Basil knew whose
+fingers were even now upon the handle of the door.</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn entered. His huge form was dressed in a
+light grey suit and he carried a straw hat in his hand.
+His face was burned a deep brown.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped suddenly as he saw Gortre and an ugly
+look flashed out on the sensual, intellectual face. Some
+swift intuition seemed to give him the key of the situation
+or something near it.</p>
+
+<p>"The curate of Dieppe!" he said in a cold, mirthless
+voice. "And what, Mr. Gortre, may I ask, are you
+doing here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Hunt has asked me to come and see her," answered
+Basil.</p>
+
+<p>"Consoling yourself with the Church, Gertie, while
+your proprietor is away?" Llwellyn said with a sneer.</p>
+
+<p>Then his manner changed suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>He turned to Gortre. "Now then, my man," he
+snarled, "get out of this place at once. You may not
+know that I pay the rent and other expenses of this
+establishment. It is <i>mine</i>. I know all about you. Your
+reputation has reached me from sources you have little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>
+idea of. And I saw you at Dieppe. I don't propose to
+resume our acquaintance in London; kindly go at once."</p>
+
+<p>Basil looked at the woman. He saw pleading, a terrible
+entreaty in her eyes. If he left her now, the power
+of this man, his strength of will, might drag her back for
+ever into hell. He could see the girl regarded him with
+terror. There was a great surprise in her face also.
+The man seemed so strong and purposeful. Even Gortre
+remembered that he had worn no such indefinable air of
+confidence and triumph six months ago in France.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Hunt wants me to stay, sir," he answered
+quietly, "and so I'm going to stay. But perhaps you
+had better be given an explanation at once. Miss Hunt
+is going to leave you to-morrow. She will never see you
+again."</p>
+
+<p>"And may I ask," the big man answered, "why you
+have interfered in my private affairs and why you <i>think</i>&mdash;for
+she is going to do nothing of the sort&mdash;Miss Hunt
+is going from here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Simply because the Holy Spirit wills it so," said the
+clergyman.</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn looked steadily at him and then at the
+woman.</p>
+
+<p>Something he saw in their faces told him the truth.</p>
+
+<p>He laughed shortly. "Let me tell you," he said in a
+voice which quivered with ugly passion, "that in a short
+time all meddling priests will lose their power over the
+minds of others for ever. Your Christ, your God, the
+pale dreamer of the East, shall be revealed to you and
+all men at last!"</p>
+
+<p>His manner had changed once more. Fierce as it was,
+there was an intense <i>meaning</i> and power in it. He spoke
+as one having authority, with also a concentrated hate in
+his words, so real and bitter that it gave them a certain
+fineness.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes!" he continued, lifting his arm with a sudden
+gesture:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"'Far hence He lies<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the lorn Syrian town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on His grave, with shining eyes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The Syrian stars look down.'"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Gortre answered him:</p>
+
+<p>"You lie and you know you lie! and by the powers
+given to me I'll tell you so from God Himself. Christ
+is risen! And as the day follows the night so the Spirit
+of God remains upon the earth God once visited, and
+works upon the hearts of men."</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going?" said Llwellyn, stepping towards
+Gortre.</p>
+
+<p>"No," the young man answered in sharp, angry tones.
+"It's you that are going, Sir Robert. You know as well
+as I do that I can do exactly as I like with you if it comes
+to force. And really I am not at all disinclined to do
+so, despite my parson's coat. Then you will have your
+remedy, you know. The newly made knight fighting a
+clergyman under such very curious circumstances! If
+this thing is to become open talk, then let us have it so.
+You can do me no harm. I came here at my vicar's request
+and Miss Hunt's. You know best if you can stand
+a scandal of this kind in your position. Now I'm going
+to use my last argument. Are you going at once or shall
+I knock you down and kick you out?"</p>
+
+<p>He could not help a note of exultation in his voice,
+try as he would. He was still a young man, full of
+power and virility. His life had brought no trace of
+effeminacy with it. And as he saw this splendid lying
+intellect, the slave of evil, and rejoicing in it, as he heard
+the arrogant denial of Christ's Godhead coming sonorously
+from those polluted lips, a wild longing flared up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>
+in him. Like a sudden flame, the impulse to strike a
+clean, hard blow fired all his blood. The old Oxford
+days of athletic triumphs on field, flood, and river came
+back to him.</p>
+
+<p>He measured the man scientifically with his eyes,
+judging his distance, alert to strike.</p>
+
+<p>But Llwellyn made no further movement of aggression
+and uttered no word of menace. He did not seem
+in the least afraid of Gortre or in any way intimidated
+by him. Indeed, he laughed, a laugh which was very
+hollow, mirthless, and cold.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, my boy," he said, "I have a worse harm to
+work you than you can dream of yet. You will remember
+me some day. You can't frighten me now. I will
+go. I want no scandal. Good-bye, Gertrude. You
+also will remember and regret some day. Good-bye."</p>
+
+<p>He went noiselessly out of the room, still with the
+strange flickering smile of prescience and fate upon his
+evil face.</p>
+
+<p>When he had gone, Gertrude fell into a passion of
+weeping. The strain had been too great. Basil comforted
+her as well as he could, and before he went
+promised to see Father Ripon that night and make
+arrangements that she should quietly disappear the next
+day to some distant undiscoverable haven.</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">Then he also went out into the night, through the
+silent squares of sleeping houses towards the Clergy
+House of St. Mary's. Once more his nerves were unstrung
+and the old fears and the sense of waiting&mdash;Damocles-like
+for some blow to fall&mdash;poured over him.</p>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p>Sir Robert walked swiftly to Oxford Street, where he
+found a cab. He ordered the man to drive him to the
+Sheridan Club. On the way he stopped at Charing
+Cross Station and ordered his luggage to be sent home<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
+at once to his house in Upper Berkeley Street. He had
+only been in London two or three hours, having crossed
+from Calais that afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>He washed when he had arrived at the famous club,
+and then went up-stairs to the grill-room for some supper.
+It was the hour when the Sheridan is full of the upper
+Bohemian world. Great actors and musicians, a judge
+on his way through town from one watering-place to
+another,&mdash;for it was now the long vacation,&mdash;a good
+many well-known journalists, all sorts and conditions of
+men. All were eminent in their work, for that was a
+condition of membership.</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn was welcomed on all sides, though men
+noticed that he seemed preoccupied. His healthy appearance
+was commented on, his face browned, as was
+supposed, by the sun of the Riviera, his general fitness
+of manner and carriage.</p>
+
+<p>He took supper by himself at a small table, choosing
+the menu with his usual extreme care, and more than
+once summoning the head waiter to conference. Although
+he kept glancing at his watch, as if expecting an
+arrival, he made a good meal, mixing his own salad of
+crisp white lettuce with deliberation.</p>
+
+<p>He had sent a page early on his arrival to find out if
+Mr. Constantine Schuabe was in the club.</p>
+
+<p>He was standing at the desk in the middle of the
+room, paying his bill, when the swing-doors were pushed
+open and Schuabe entered. He was in evening dress
+and carried a light overcoat on his arm.</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn gathered up his change and went to meet
+him. Had there been an attentive observer to mark the
+meeting of the two men he would have perhaps been a
+little surprised at the fashion of it.</p>
+
+<p>Although Llwellyn was a six-months' stranger to
+London, and the meeting between the two men was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>
+obviously prearranged, <i>neither of the two men smiled as
+they shook hands</i>. Both were expectant of each other,
+pale, almost with some apprehension, it might have
+been fancied; and though the meeting seemed a relief
+to each, there was little human kindliness in it.</p>
+
+<p>"Come down to the Hotel," said Schuabe; "we
+can't possibly say anything here, every room is full."</p>
+
+<p>They walked out of the club together, two figures of
+noticeable distinction, very obviously belonging to the
+ruling classes of England. The millionaire's pale and
+beautiful face was worn and lined.</p>
+
+<p>"Schuabe seems a bit done up," one man in the hall
+said to another as the two friends passed through.</p>
+
+<p>"Heat, I suppose," answered his companion. "Handsome
+chap, though; doesn't seem to care for anything
+worth having, only books and politics and that. Wish
+I'd his money."</p>
+
+<p>"So do I. But give me Bob Llwellyn of these two.
+Thoroughly decent sort <i>he</i> is. Invented two new omelettes
+and a white soup. Forgets all about his thing-um-bobs&mdash;old
+Egyptian or something&mdash;they knighted him
+for directly he leaves the Museum."</p>
+
+<p>"That's the sort," answered a third man who had
+joined them. "I don't object to a Johnny having a
+brain, and knowing a devil of a lot, if he'll only jolly
+well keep it to himself. Bob does that. I'm going
+up-stairs to have a turn at poker. You fellows coming?"</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe and Llwellyn walked to the Cecil, no great
+distance, saying little by the way, and presently they
+were in the millionaire's great room, with its spacious
+view over the river.</p>
+
+<p>The place was beautifully cool and full of flowers. A
+great block of ice rose from a copper bowl placed on a
+pedestal. The carpet had been covered with light matting
+of rice straw, brought from Rawal-pindi. All the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>
+windows leading to the balcony were wide open, and the
+balcony was covered with striped awning, underneath
+which the electric lights glowed on the leaves of Japanese
+palms, seeming as if they had been cunningly lacquered
+a metallic green colour, and on low chairs of white
+bleached rushes.</p>
+
+<p>The two men sat down in the centre of the room on
+light chairs, with a small Turkish table and cool drinks
+between them.</p>
+
+<p>"You've had all my letters, my last from Jaffa?"
+asked Sir Robert.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, all of them," said Schuabe; "each one was
+carefully destroyed after I had read it and memorialised
+the contents. Let me say now that you have done your
+work with extraordinary brilliance. It has been an intellectual
+pleasure of a high order to follow your proceedings
+and know your plans. There is not another
+man in the world who could do what you have done.
+Everything seems guarded against, all is secure."</p>
+
+<p>"You are right, Schuabe," said Llwellyn, in a matter-of-fact
+voice. "You bade me make a certain thing
+<i>possible</i>. You paid me proportionately to the terrible
+risks and for my unrivalled knowledge. Well, you and
+I are going to shake the whole world as no two other
+men have ever done, and what will be the end?"</p>
+
+<p>"The end!" cried Schuabe, in a high, strained, unnatural
+voice. "Who shall say? What man can know?
+For ever more the gigantic fable of the Cross and the
+Man God will be overthrown. The temples of the world
+will fall into the abomination of desolation, and you and
+I, latter-day bringers of light&mdash;Lucifers!&mdash;will kill the
+pale Nazarene more surely than the Sanhedrists and
+soldiers of the past."</p>
+
+<p>There was a thin madness in his voice. The great
+figure of the <i>savant</i> shifted uneasily in its chair.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That fellow Gortre, that abominable young priest,
+has been getting in my way to-night," he said with a
+savage curse. "I found him with Gertrude Hunt, the
+woman I've spent thousands on! The priests have
+got her; she's going to 'lead a new life.' She has
+'found Christ'!"</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe smiled horribly, a cunning smile of unutterable
+malice.</p>
+
+<p>"He has crossed my path also," he said; "in some
+way, by a series of coincidences, he has become slightly
+involved in our lives. Leave the matter to me. So
+small a thing as the fanaticism of one obscure youth is
+nothing to trouble us. I will see to his future. But he
+shall live to know what is coming to the world. Then&mdash;it
+is easy enough. He thwarted <i>me</i> one night also."</p>
+
+<p>They were silent for a minute or two. Sir Robert
+lifted a long glass to his lips. His hand shook with
+passion, and the ice in the liquid clinked and tinkled.</p>
+
+<p>"Everything is now ready," he said at last, glancing
+at Schuabe. "Every detail. Ionides knows what he
+has to do when he receives the signal. He is a mere
+tool, and knows and cares nothing of what will happen.
+He is to direct the excavators in certain directions, that
+is all. It will be three months, so I calculate, after we
+have set the machinery in motion, before the blow will
+fall. It rests with you now to begin."</p>
+
+<p>"The sign shall go at once," said Schuabe. His eyes
+glittered, his mouth worked with emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"It is a letter with a single sign on it."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the sign?"</p>
+
+<p>"A drawing of a broken cross."</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">"Before the day dawns we will send the broken cross
+to Jerusalem."</p>
+
+<h4>END OF BOOK I</h4>
+<hr class="chap" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p>
+<h2><br />BOOK II</h2>
+
+<p class="center">"A horror of great darkness."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_Ib" id="CHAPTER_Ib">CHAPTER I</a></h2>
+
+<h4>WHILE LONDON WAS SLEEPING</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">I</span><span class="smcap">n</span> the winter, two or three weeks before Christmas,
+Gortre asked Father Ripon for a ten days' holiday,
+and went to Walktown to spend the time with Mr. Byars
+and Helena. Christmas itself could be no time of vacation
+for him,&mdash;the duties of St. Mary's were very heavy,&mdash;so
+he snatched a respite from work before the actual
+time of festival.</p>
+
+<p>Harold Spence was left alone in the chambers at Lincoln's
+Inn. The journalist found himself discontented,
+lonely, and bored. He had not realised before how
+much Basil's society had contributed to his happiness
+during the past few months. It had grown to be a
+necessity to him gradually, and, as is the case with all
+gradual processes, the lack of it surprised him with its
+sense of incompleteness and loss.</p>
+
+<p>He had spent a hard summer and autumn over very
+uncongenial work. For months there had been a curious
+lull and calm in the news-world. Yet day by day
+the <i>Daily Wire</i> had to be filled. Not that there was
+any lack of material,&mdash;even in the dullest season the
+expert journalist will tell one that his difficulty is what
+to <i>leave out</i> of his paper, not what to <i>put in</i>,&mdash;but that the
+material was uninteresting and dull.</p>
+
+<p>He felt himself that his leaders were growing rather
+stale, lacking in spontaneity. His style did not glitter
+and ring quite as usual. And Basil had helped him
+through this time wonderfully.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
+One Wednesday&mdash;he remembered the day afterwards&mdash;Spence
+awoke about mid-day. He had been late at
+the office the night before and afterwards had gone to a
+club, not going to bed till after four.</p>
+
+<p>He heard the laundress moving about the chambers
+preparing his breakfast. He shouted to her, and in a
+minute or two she came in with his letters and a cup of tea.
+She went to the window and pulled up the blind, letting
+a dreary grey-yellow December light into the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Nasty day, Mrs. Buscall," he said, sipping his tea.</p>
+
+<p>"It is so, sir," the woman said, a lean, kindly-faced
+London drudge from a court in Drury Lane. "Gives
+me a frog in my throat all the time, this fog does.
+You'd better let me pour a drop of hot water in your
+bath, sir. I've got the kettle on the gas stove."</p>
+
+<p>The laundress had an objection to baths, deep-rooted
+and a matter of principle. The daily cold tub she
+regarded as suicidal, and when Gortre had arrived, her
+pained surprise at finding him also&mdash;a clergyman too!&mdash;addicted
+to such adventurous and injudicious habits
+had been as extreme as her disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>Spence agreed to humour her, and she began to prepare
+the bath.</p>
+
+<p>"Letter from Mr. Cyril, I see, sir," she remarked.
+Mrs. Buscall loved the arch�ologist with more strenuousness
+than her other two charges. The unusual and
+mysterious has a real fascination for a certain type of
+uneducated Cockney brain. Hands's rare sojourns at
+the chambers, the Eastern dresses and pictures in his
+room, his strange and perilous life&mdash;as she considered it&mdash;in
+the veritable Bible land, where Satan actually
+roamed the desert in the form of a lion seeking whom
+he might devour, all these stimulated her crude imagination
+and brought colour into the dreary purlieus of
+Drury Lane.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
+Most of the women around Mrs. Buscall drank gin.
+The doings of Cyril Hands were sufficient tonic for her.</p>
+
+<p>Spence glanced at the bulky packet with its Turkish
+stamps and peculiar aroma&mdash;which the London fog had
+not yet killed&mdash;of ships and alien suns. Hands was a
+good correspondent. Sometimes he sent general articles
+on the work he was doing, not too technical, and Ommaney,
+the editor of Spence's paper, used and paid well
+for them.</p>
+
+<p>But on this morning Spence did not feel inclined to
+open the packet. It could wait. He was not in the
+humour for it now. It would be too tantalising to read
+of those deep skies like a hard, hollow turquoise, of the
+flaming white sun, the white mosques and minarets
+throwing purple shadows round the cypress and olive.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Neque enim ignari sumus</i>," he muttered to himself,
+recalling the swing and freedom of his own travels, the
+vivid, picturesque life where, at great moments, he
+had been one of the eyes of England, flashing electric
+words to tell his countrymen of what lay before him.</p>
+
+<p>And now, after the chill of his bath and the rasping
+torture of shaving in winter, he must light all the gas-jets
+as he sat down to breakfast in his sitting-room!</p>
+
+<p>He opened the <i>Wire</i> and glanced at his own work of
+the night before. How lifeless it seemed to him!</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Many years ago Bagehot wrote that 'Parliament expresses
+the nation's opinions in words well, when it
+happens that words, not laws, are wanted. On foreign
+matters, where we cannot legislate, whatever the English
+nation thinks, or thinks it thinks, as to the critical events
+of the world, whether in Denmark, in Italy or America,
+and no matter whether it thinks wisely or unwisely, that
+same something, wise or unwise, will be thoroughly well
+said in Parliament.'</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>
+"We have never read a finer defence of such Parliamentary
+discussion as the recent events in certain Continental
+bureaucracies have given rise to, etc., etc."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Words! words! words! that seemed to him to mean
+little and matter nothing. Yet as he chipped his egg he
+remembered that the writing of this leader had meant
+considerable mental strain. Oh, for a big happening
+abroad, when he would be sent and another would take
+up this routine work! He knew he was a far better correspondent
+than leader writer. His heart was in that
+work.</p>
+
+<p>There were one or two invitations among his letters,
+two books were sent by a young publisher, a friend of his,
+asking if he could get them "noticed" in the <i>Wire</i>, and
+a syllabus of some winter lectures to be given at Oxford
+House. His name was there. He was to lecture in
+January on "The Sodality of the Knights of St. John".</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast, the lunch time of most of the world,
+he found it impossible to settle down to anything. He
+was not due at the office that night, and the long hours,
+without the excitement of his work, stretched rather hopelessly
+before him. He thought of paying calls in the
+various parts of the West End, where he had friends
+whom he had rather neglected of late. But he dismissed
+that idea when it came, for he did not feel as if he could
+make himself very agreeable to any one.</p>
+
+<p>He wanted a complete change of some sort. He half
+thought of running down to Brighton, fighting the cold,
+bracing sea winds on the lawns at Hove, and returning
+the next day.</p>
+
+<p>He was certainly out of sorts, liverish no doubt, and
+the solution to his difficulties presented itself to him in
+the project of a Turkish bath.</p>
+
+<p>He put his correspondence into the pocket of his overcoat,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
+to be read at leisure, and drove to a hammam in
+Jermyn Street.</p>
+
+<p>The physical warmth, the silence, the dim lights, and
+Oriental decorations induced a supreme sense of comfort
+and <i>bien-�tre</i>. It brought Constantinople back to him in
+vague reverie.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps, he thought, the Turkish bath in London is
+the only easy way to obtain a sudden and absolute
+change of environment. Nothing else brings detachment
+so readily, is so instinct with change and the
+unusual.</p>
+
+<p>In delightful langour he passed from one dim chamber
+to another, lying prone in the great heat which surrounded
+him like a cloak. Then the vigorous kneading
+and massage, the gradual toning and renovating of each
+joint and muscle, till he stood drenched in aromatic
+foam, a new, fresh physical personality. The swift dive
+under the india-rubber curtain left behind the domed,
+dim places of heat and silence. He plunged through the
+bottle-green water of the marble pool into the hall, where
+lounges stood about by small inlaid octagonal tables, and
+a thin whip of a fountain tinkled among green palms.
+Wrapped from head to foot in soft white towels, he lay
+in a dream of contentment, watching the delicate spirals
+from his Cairene cigarette, and sipping the brown froth
+of a tiny cup of thick coffee.</p>
+
+<p>At four a slippered attendant brought him a sole and
+a bottle of yellow wine, and after the light meal he fell
+once more into a placid, restorative sleep.</p>
+
+<p>And all the while the letter from Jerusalem was in his
+overcoat pocket, forgotten, hung in the entrance-hall.
+The thing which was to alter the lives of thousands and
+ten thousands, that was to bring a cloud over England
+more dark and menacing than it had ever known, lay
+there with its stupendous message, its relentless influence,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>
+while outside the church bells all over London were tolling
+for Evensong.</p>
+
+<p>At length, as night was falling, Spence went out into
+the lighted streets with their sudden roar of welcome.
+He was immensely refreshed in brain and body. His
+thoughts moved quickly and well, depression had left
+him, the activity of his brain was unceasing.</p>
+
+<p>As a rule, especially for the last year or two, Spence
+was by no means a man given to casual amusements.
+His work was too absorbing for him to have time or inclination
+to follow pleasure. But to-night he felt in the
+humour for relaxation.</p>
+
+<p>He turned into St. James Street, where his club was,
+intending to find some one who would go to a music-hall
+with him. There was no one he knew intimately in
+the smoking-room, but soon after he arrived Lambert,
+one of the deputy curators from the British Museum,
+came in. Spence and Lambert had been at Marlborough
+together.</p>
+
+<p>Spence asked Lambert, who was in evening dress, to
+be his companion.</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry I can't, old man," he answered; "I've got
+to dine with my uncle, Sir Michael. It's a bore, of
+course, but it's policy. The place will be full of High
+Church bishops, minor Cabinet Ministers, and people of
+that sort. I only hope old Ripon will be there&mdash;he's
+my uncle's tame vicar, you know; uncle runs an expensive
+church, like some men run a theatre&mdash;for he's
+always bright and amusing. You're not working to-night,
+then?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not to-night. I've been and had a Turkish
+bath, and I thought I'd wind up a day of mild dissipation
+by going to the Alhambra."</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry I can't go too&mdash;awful bore. I've had a
+tiring day, too, and a ballet would be refreshing. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
+governor's been in a state of filthy irritation and nerves
+for the last fortnight."</p>
+
+<p>"Sir Robert Llwellyn, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he's my chief, and a very good fellow too, as a
+rule. He went away for several months, you know&mdash;travelled
+abroad for his health. When he first came back,
+three months ago, he looked as fit as a fiddle, and seemed
+awfully pleased with himself all round. But lately he's
+been decidedly off colour. He seems worried about
+something, does hardly any work, and always seems waiting
+and looking out for a coming event. He bothers me out
+of my life, always coming into my room and talking about
+nothing, or speculating upon the possibility of all sorts of
+new discoveries which will upset every one's theories."</p>
+
+<p>"I met him in Dieppe in the spring. He seemed all
+right then, just at the beginning of his leave."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he's certainly not that now, worse luck, and
+confound him. He interferes with my work no end.
+Good-bye; sorry I must go."</p>
+
+<p>He passed softly over the heavy carpet of the smoking-room,
+and Spence was left alone once more.</p>
+
+<p>It was after seven o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>Spence wasn't hungry yet. The light meal in the
+hammam had satisfied him. He resolved to go to the
+Empire alone, not because the idea of going seemed
+very attractive, but because he had planned it and could
+substitute no other way of spending the evening for the
+first determination.</p>
+
+<p>So, about nine o'clock, he strolled into the huge,
+garish music-hall.</p>
+
+<p>He went into the Empire, and already his contentment
+was beginning to die away again. The day seemed a
+day of trivialities, a sordid, uneventful day of London
+gloom, which he had vainly tried to disperse with little
+futile rockets of amusement.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He sat down in a stall and watched a clever juggler
+doing wonderful things with billiard balls. After the
+juggler a coarsely handsome Spanish girl came upon the
+stage&mdash;he remembered her at La Scala, in Paris. She
+was said to be one of the beauties of Europe, and a
+king's favourite.</p>
+
+<p>After the Spanish woman there were two men,
+"brothers" some one. One was disguised as a donkey&mdash;a
+veritable <i>peau de chagrin</i>!&mdash;the other as a tramp, and
+together they did laughable things.</p>
+
+<p>With a sigh he went up-stairs and moved slowly through
+the thronged promenade. The hard faces of the men
+and women repelled him. One elderly Jewish-looking
+person reminded him of a great grey slug. He turned
+into the American bar at one extremity of the horse-shoe.
+It was early yet, and the big room, pleasantly
+cool, was quite empty. A man brought him a long, parti-coloured
+drink.</p>
+
+<p>He felt the pressure of a packet in his pocket. It was
+Cyril Hands's letter, he found as he took it out. He
+thought of young Lambert at the club, a friend of Hands
+and fellow-worker in the same field, and languidly opened
+the letter.</p>
+
+<p>Two women came in and sat at a table not far from
+him as he began to read. He was the only man in the
+place, and they regarded him with a tense, conscious
+interest.</p>
+
+<p>They saw him open a bulky envelope with a careless
+manner. He would look up soon, they expected.</p>
+
+<p>But as they watched they saw a sudden, swift contraction
+of the brows, a momentous convulsion of every
+feature. His head bent lower towards the manuscript.
+They saw that he became very pale.</p>
+
+<p>In a minute or two what had at first seemed a singular
+paleness became a frightful ashen colour.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That Johnny's going to be ill," one of the women
+said to the other.</p>
+
+<p>As she spoke they saw the face change. A lurid excitement
+burst upon it like a flame. The eyes glowed,
+the mouth settled into swift purpose.</p>
+
+<p>Spence took up his hat and left the room with quick,
+decided steps. He threaded his way through the crowd
+round the circle&mdash;like a bed of orchids, surrounded by
+heavy, poisonous scents&mdash;and almost ran into the street.</p>
+
+<p>A cab was waiting. He got into it, and, inspired by
+his words and appearance, the man drove furiously down
+dark Garrick Street, and the blazing Strand towards the
+offices of the <i>Daily Wire</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The great building of dressed stone which stood in the
+middle of Fleet Street was dark. The advertisement
+halls and business offices were closed.</p>
+
+<p>Spence paid his man and dived down a long, narrow
+passage, paved, and with high walls on either side. At
+the end of the passage he pushed open some battered
+swing-doors. A <i>commissionaire</i> in a little hutch touched
+his cap as Spence ran up a broad flight of stone stairs.</p>
+
+<p>The journalist turned down a long corridor with doors
+on either side. The glass fanlights over the doors showed
+that all the rooms were brilliantly lit within. The place
+was very quiet, save for the distant clicking of a typewriter
+and the thud of a "column-printer" tape machine
+as the wheel carrier shot back for a new line.</p>
+
+<p>He opened a door with his own name painted on it and
+went inside. At a very large writing-table, on which
+stood two shaded electric lights, an elderly man, heavily
+built and bearded, was writing on small slips of paper.
+There was another table in the room, a great many books
+on shelves upon the walls, and a thick carpet. The big
+man looked up as Spence came in, lifted a cup of tea
+which was standing by him, and drank a little. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>
+nodded without speaking, and went on with his leading
+article.</p>
+
+<p>Spence took off his hat and coat, drew the sheets of
+Hands's letter from his pocket, and went out into the
+passage. At the extreme end he opened a door, and
+passing round a red baize screen found himself in Ommaney's
+room, the centre of the great web of brains and
+machinery which daily gave the <i>Wire</i> to the world.</p>
+
+<p>Ommaney's room was very large, warm, and bright.
+It was also extremely tidy. The writing-table had little
+on it save a great blotting-pad and an inkstand. The
+books on chairs and shelves were neatly arranged.</p>
+
+<p>The editor sat at a table in the centre of the room,
+facing several doors which led into various departments
+of the staff. The chief sub-editor, a short, alert person,
+spectacled and Jewish in aspect, stood by Ommaney's
+side as Spence came in. He had proof of page three in
+his hand&mdash;that portion of the paper which consisted of
+news which had accumulated through the day. He was
+submitting it to the editor, so that the whole sheet might
+be finally "passed for press" and "go to the foundry,"
+where the type would be pressed into <i>papier-m�ch�</i>
+moulds, from which the final curved plates for the roller
+machines would be cast.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all a bad make-up, Levita," Ommaney said,
+as he initialled the margin in blue pencil. The sub-editor
+hurried from the room.</p>
+
+<p>Ommaney was slim and pale, carefully dressed, and of
+medium height. He did not look very old. His moustache
+was golden and carefully tended, his pale, honey-coloured
+hair waved over a high, white forehead.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall want an hour," Spence said. "I've just got
+what may be the most stupendous news any newspaper
+has ever published."</p>
+
+<p>The editor looked up quickly. A flash of interest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span>
+passed over his pale, immobile face and was gone. He
+knew that if Spence spoke like this the occasion was
+momentous.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at his watch. "Is it news for to-night's
+paper?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"No," answered Spence. "I'm the only man in
+England, I think, who has it yet. We shall gain nothing
+by printing to-night. But we must settle on a course of
+action at once. That won't wait. You'll understand
+when I explain."</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">Ommaney nodded. On the writing-table was a mahogany
+stand about a foot square. A circle was described
+on it, and all round the circle, like the figures on
+the face of a clock, were little ivory tablets an inch long,
+with a name printed on each. In the centre of the circle
+a vulcanite handle moved a steel bar working on a pivot.
+Ommaney turned the handle till the end of the bar rested
+over the tablet marked</p>
+
+<div>
+<p class="box">COMPOSING ROOM</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p2">He picked up the receiver and transmitter of a portable
+telephone and asked one or two questions.</p>
+
+<p>When he had communicated with several other rooms
+in this way Ommaney turned to Spence.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," he said, "I can give you an hour now.
+Things are fairly easy to-night."</p>
+
+<p>He got up from the writing-table and sat down by the
+fire. Spence took a chair opposite.</p>
+
+<p>He seemed dazed. He was trembling with excitement,
+his face was pale with it, yet, above and beyond
+this agitation, there was almost fear in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a discovery in Palestine&mdash;at Jerusalem," he
+said in a low, vibrating voice, spreading out the thin,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>
+crackling sheets of foreign note-paper on his knee and
+arranging them in order.</p>
+
+<p>"You know Cyril Hands, the agent of the Palestine
+Exploring Fund?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, quite well by reputation," said Ommaney,
+"and I've met him once or twice. Very sound man."</p>
+
+<p>"These papers are from him. They seem to be of tremendous
+importance, of a significance that I can hardly
+grasp yet."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the nature of them?" asked the editor,
+rising from his chair, powerfully affected in his turn by
+Spence's manner.</p>
+
+<p>Harold put his hand up to his throat, pulling at his
+collar; the apple moved up and down convulsively.</p>
+
+<p>"The Tomb!" Spence gasped. "The Holy Tomb!"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?" asked Ommaney. "Another
+supposed burial-place of Christ&mdash;like the <i>Times</i> business,
+when they found the Gordon Tomb, and Canon MacColl
+wrote such a lot?"</p>
+
+<p>His face fell a little. This, though interesting enough,
+and fine "news copy," was less than he hoped.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," cried Spence, getting his voice back at last
+and speaking like a man in acute physical pain. "<i>A
+new tomb has been found. There is an inscription in
+Greek, written by Joseph of Arimath�a, and there are
+other traces.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>His voice failed him.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Go on, man, go on!</i>" said the editor.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>The inscription&mdash;tells that Joseph&mdash;took the body of
+Jesus&mdash;from his own garden tomb&mdash;he hid it in this place&mdash;the
+disciples never knew&mdash;it is a confession</i>&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Ommaney was as white as Spence now.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>There are other contributory proofs</i>," Spence continued.
+"<i>Hands says it is certain. All the details are
+here, read</i>&mdash;&mdash;"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Ommaney stared fixedly at his lieutenant.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Then, if this is true</i>," he whispered, "<i>it means?</i>&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">That christ never rose from the dead, that
+christianity is all a lie.</span>"</p>
+
+<p>Spence slipped back in his chair a little and fainted.</p>
+
+<p>With the assistance of two men from one of the other
+rooms they brought him back to consciousness before
+very long. Then while Ommaney read the papers Spence
+sat nervously in his chair, sipping some brandy-and-water
+they had brought him and trying to smoke a
+cigarette with a palsied hand.</p>
+
+<p>The editor finished at last. "Pull yourself together,
+Spence," he said sharply. "This is no time for sentiment.
+I know your beliefs, though I do not share them,
+and I can sympathise with you. But keep yourself off
+all private thoughts now. We must be extremely careful
+what we are doing. Now listen carefully to me."</p>
+
+<p>The keen voice roused Spence. He made a tremendous
+effort at self-control.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems," Ommaney went on, "that we alone know
+of this discovery. The secretary of the Palestine Exploring
+Society will not receive the news for another
+week, Hands says. He seems stunned, and no wonder.
+In about a fortnight his detailed papers will probably be
+published. I see he has already telegraphed privately
+for Dr. Schm�ulder, the German expert. Of course
+you and I are hardly competent to judge of the value of
+this communication. To me&mdash;speaking as a layman&mdash;it
+seems extremely clear. But we must of course see a
+specialist before publishing anything. <i>If this news is
+true</i>&mdash;and I would give all I am worth if it were not,
+though I am no Christian&mdash;of course you realise that the
+future history of the world is changed? I hold in my
+hand something that will come to millions and millions
+of people as an utter extinction of hope and light. It's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>
+impossible to say what will happen. Moral law will be
+abrogated for a time. The whole moral fabric of Society
+will fall into ruin at once until it can adjust itself to the
+new state of things. There will be war all over the
+world; crime will cover England like a cloud&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>His voice faltered as the terrible picture grew in his
+brain.</p>
+
+<p>Both of them felt that mere words were utterly unable
+to express the horrors which they saw dawning.</p>
+
+<p>"We don't know the truth yet," said Spence, at
+length.</p>
+
+<p>"No," answered Ommaney. "I am not going to
+speculate on it either. I am beginning to realise what
+we are dealing with. One man's brain cannot hold all
+this. So let me ask you to regard this matter <i>for the
+present</i> simply from the standpoint of the paper, and
+through it, of course, from the standpoint of public
+policy&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He broke off suddenly, for there was a knock at the
+door. A <i>commissionaire</i> entered with a telegram. It
+was for Spence. He opened the envelope, read the contents
+with a groan, and passed it to the editor.</p>
+
+<p>The telegram was from Hands:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Schm�ulder entirely confirms discovery, is communicating
+first instance with Kaiser privately, fuller
+details in mail, confer Ommaney, make statement to
+Secretary Society, use Wire medium publicity, leave all
+to you, see Prime Minister, send out Llwellyn behalf
+Government immediately, meanwhile suggest attitude
+suspended decision, personally fear little doubt.&mdash;<span class="smcap">Hands.</span>"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>"We must act at once," said Ommaney. "We have
+a fearful responsibility now. It's not too much to say<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>
+that everything depends on us. Have you got any of
+that brandy left? My head throbs like an engine."</p>
+
+<p>A sub-editor who came in and was briefly dismissed
+told his colleagues that something was going on in the
+editor's room of an extraordinary nature. "The chief
+was actually drinking a peg, and his hand shook like a
+leaf."</p>
+
+<p>Ommaney drank the spirits&mdash;he was an absolute teetotaler
+as a rule, though not pledged in any way to abstinence&mdash;and
+it revived him.</p>
+
+<p>"Now let us try and think," he said, lighting a cigarette
+and walking up and down the room.</p>
+
+<p>Spence lit a cigarette also. As he did so he gave a
+sudden, sharp, unnatural chuckle. He was smoking
+when the Light of the World&mdash;the whole great world!&mdash;was
+flickering into darkness.</p>
+
+<p>Ommaney saw him and interpreted the thought. He
+pulled him up at once with a few sharp words, for he
+knew that Spence was close upon hysteria.</p>
+
+<p>"From a news point of view," he continued, "we
+hold all the cards. No one else knows what we know.
+I am certain that the German papers will publish nothing
+for a day or two. The Emperor will tell them nothing,
+and they can have no other source of information; so I
+gather from this telegram. Dr. Schm�ulder will not
+say anything until he has instructions from Potsdam.
+That means I need not publish anything in to-morrow's
+paper. It will relieve me of a great responsibility. We
+shall be first in the field, but I shall still have a few hours
+to consult with others."</p>
+
+<p>He pressed a bell on the table. "Tell Mr. Jones I
+wish to see him," he told the boy who answered the
+summons.</p>
+
+<p>A young man came in, the editor of the "personal"
+column.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Is the Prime Minister in town, Mr. Jones?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir; he's here for three more days."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall send a message now," said Ommaney, "asking
+for an interview in an hour's time. I know he will
+see me. He knows that I would not come at this hour
+unless the matter were of national importance. As you
+know, we are very much in the confidence of the Cabinet
+just now. I dare not wait till to-morrow." He rapidly
+wrote a note and sent for Mr. Folliott Farmer.</p>
+
+<p>The big-bearded man from Spence's room entered,
+smoking a briar pipe.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Farmer," said Ommaney, "I suppose you've
+done your leader?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sent it up-stairs ten minutes ago," said the big man.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I want you to do me a favour. The matter is
+so important that I do not like to trust any one else. I
+want you to drive to Downing Street at once as hard as
+you can go. Take this letter for Lord &mdash;&mdash;. It is making
+an appointment for me in an hour's time. He <i>must</i>
+see it himself at once&mdash;take my card. One of the secretaries
+will try and put you off, of course. This is irregular,
+but it is of international importance. When I tell
+you this you will realise that Lord &mdash;&mdash; <i>must</i> see the
+note. Bring me back the answer as rapidly as you can."</p>
+
+<p>The elderly man&mdash;his name was a household word as
+a political writer all over England and the Continent&mdash;nodded
+without speaking, took the letter, and left the
+room. He knew Ommaney, and realised that if he made
+a messenger boy of him, Folliott Farmer, the matter was
+of supreme importance.</p>
+
+<p>"That is the only thing to do," said Ommaney. "No
+one else would be possible. The Archbishop would
+laugh. We must go to the real head. I only want to
+put myself on the safe side before publishing. If they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>
+meet me properly, then for the next few days we can
+control public opinion. If not, then it is my duty to
+publish, and if I'm not officially backed up there may
+be war in a week. Macedonia would be flaming, Turkish
+fanatics would embroil Europe. But that will be seen
+at once in Downing Street, unless I'm very much mistaken."</p>
+
+<p>"It's an awful, horrible risk we are running," said
+Spence. He was forgetting all personal impressions in
+the excitement of the work; the journalist was alive in
+him. "Hands's letter and diagrams seem so flawless;
+he has exhausted every means of disproving what he
+says; but still supposing that it is all untrue!"</p>
+
+<p>"I look at it this way," said Ommaney. "It's perfectly
+obvious, at any rate, that the discovery is of the
+first importance, regarded as news. Hands has the reputation
+of being a thoroughly safe man, and now he is
+supported by Schm�ulder. Schm�ulder is, of course, a
+man of world-wide reputation. As these two are certain,
+even if later opinion or discovery proves the thing to be
+untrue, the paper can't suffer. Our attitude will, of
+course, be non-committal, until certainty one way or the
+other comes. At any rate, it seems to me that you have
+brought in the greatest newspaper 'scoop' that has ever
+been known or thought of. For my part, I have little
+doubt of the truth of this. Can't go into it now, but it
+seems so very, very probable. It <i>explains</i>, and even <i>corroborates</i>,
+and that's the wonderful thing, so much of
+the Gospel narrative. We shall see what Llwellyn says.
+I've more to go into, but, meanwhile, I must make arrangements
+for setting up Hands's papers. Then there
+are the inscriptions, too. Of course they must be reproduced
+in facsimile. As we can't print in half-tone, I
+must have the photograph turned into an absolutely correct
+line drawing, and have line blocks made. I shall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>
+have pulls of the whole thing prepared and sent by post
+to-morrow at midnight to the editors of all the dailies in
+London and Paris, and to the heads of the Churches. I
+shall also prepare a statement, showing exactly how the
+documents have come into our possession and what steps
+we are taking. I shall write the thing to-night, after I
+have seen the Prime Minister."</p>
+
+<p>He went to his writing-table once more, moved the
+telephone indicator, and summoned the foreman printer.</p>
+
+<p>In a few moments a lean Scotchman in his shirt sleeves&mdash;one
+of the most autocratic and important people connected
+with the paper&mdash;came into the room.</p>
+
+<p>"I want an absolutely reliable linotype operator, Burness,"
+said Ommaney. "He will have to set up some
+special copy for me after the paper's gone to press.
+It'll take him till breakfast-time. I want a man who
+will not talk. The thing is private and important. And
+it must be a man who can set up from the Greek font
+by hand also. There are some quotations in Greek included
+in the text."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sirr," said the man, with a strong Scotch accent,
+"I can find ye a guid operrator to stay till morning,
+but aboot his silence&mdash;if it's of great moment&mdash;I
+wouldn't say, and aboot his aptitude for setting up
+Greek type I hae nae doot whatever. There's no a
+lino operrator in the building wha can do it. Some of
+the men at the case might, but that'll be keeping two
+men. Is it verra important, Mr. Ommaney?"</p>
+
+<p>"More important than anything I have ever dealt
+with."</p>
+
+<p>"Then ye'll please jist give the copy into my own
+hands, sirr. I'll do the lino and the case warrk mysel'
+and pull a galley proof for ye too. No one shall see the
+copy but me."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Burness," said the editor. "I'm very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>
+much obliged. I shall be here till morning. I shall go
+out in an hour and be back by the time the machines are
+running down-stairs. Then the composing-room will be
+empty and you can get to work."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll start directly the plates have gone down to the
+foundry and the men are off, just keeping one hand to
+see to the gas-engine."</p>
+
+<p>"And, Burness, lock up the galley safely when you
+come down with the proof."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do it, sir," and the great man&mdash;indispensable,
+and earning his six hundred a year&mdash;went away with the
+precious papers.</p>
+
+<p>"That is perfectly safe with Burness," said Spence,
+as the foreman compositor retired. "He will make no
+mistakes either. He is a capital Greek scholar, corrects
+the proof-readers themselves often."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered Ommaney, "I know. I shall leave
+everything in his hands. Then late to-morrow night,
+just before the forms go to the foundry, I shall shove
+the whole thing in before any one knows anything about
+it, and nothing can get round to any other office. Burness
+will know about it beforehand, and he'll be ready
+to break up a whole page for this stuff. Of course, as
+far as leaders go and comment, I shall be guided very
+much by the result of my interview to-night and others
+to-morrow morning. I shall send off several cables before
+dawn to Palestine and elsewhere."</p>
+
+<p>Once more the editor began to pace up and down the
+room, thinking rapidly, decisively, deeply. The slim,
+fragile body was informed with power by the splendid
+brain which animated it.</p>
+
+<p>The rather languid, silent man was utterly changed.
+Here one could see the strength and force of the personality
+which directed and controlled the second, perhaps
+the first, most powerful engine of public opinion in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
+world. The millionaires who paid this frail-looking,
+youthful man an enormous sum to direct their paper for
+them knew what they were about. They had bought
+one of the finest living executive brains and made it a
+potentate among its fellows. This man who, when he
+was not at the office, or holding some hurried colloquy
+with one of the rulers of the world, was asleep in a solitary
+flat at Kensington, knew that he had an accepted
+right to send a message to Downing Street, such as he
+had lately done. No one knew his face&mdash;no one of the
+great outside public; his was hardly even a name to be
+recognised in passing, yet he, and Spence, and Folliott
+Farmer could shake a continent with their words. And
+though all knew it, or would at least have realised it had
+they ever given it a thought, the absolute self-effacement
+of journalism made it a matter of no moment to any of
+them.</p>
+
+<p>While Englishmen read their dicta, and unconsciously
+incorporated them into their own pronouncements,
+mouthing them in street, market, and forum, these men
+slept till the busy day was over, and once more with the
+setting of the sun stole out to their almost furtive and
+yet tremendous task.</p>
+
+<p>Every now and then Ommaney strode to the writing-table
+and made a rapid note on a sheet of paper.</p>
+
+<p>At last he turned to Spence.</p>
+
+<p>"I am beginning to have our line of action well marked
+out in my brain," he said. "The thing is grouping itself
+very well. I am beginning to see my way. Now about
+you, Spence. Of course this thing is yours. At any rate
+you brought it here. Later on, of course, we shall show
+our gratitude in some substantial way. That will depend
+upon the upshot of the whole thing. Meanwhile, you
+will be quite wasted in London. I and Farmer and Wilson
+can deal with anything and everything here. Of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>
+course I would rather have you on the spot, but I can
+use you far better elsewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"Then?" said Spence.</p>
+
+<p>"You must go to Jerusalem at once. Start for Paris
+to-morrow morning at nine; you'd better go round to
+your chambers and pack up now and then come back
+here till it's time to start. You can sleep <i>en route</i>. I
+shall be here till breakfast-time, and I can give you final
+instructions."</p>
+
+<p>He used the telephone once more and his secretary
+came in.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Spence starts for Palestine to-morrow morning,
+Marriott," he said. "He is going straight through to
+Jerusalem as fast as may be. Oblige me by getting out a
+route for him at once, marking all the times for steamers
+and trains, etc., in a clear scheme for Mr. Spence to take
+with him. Be very careful with the Continental timetables
+indeed. If you can see any delay anywhere which
+will be likely to occur, go down to Cook's early in the
+morning and make full inquiries. If it is necessary,
+arrange for any special trains that may be necessary.
+Mr. Spence must not be delayed a day. Also map out
+various points on the journey, with the proper times,
+where we can telegraph instructions to Mr. Spence. Go
+down to Mr. Woolford and ask him for a hundred pounds
+in notes and give them to Mr. Spence. You will arrange
+about the usual letter of credit during the day and wire
+Mr. Spence at Paris after lunch."</p>
+
+<p>The young man went out to do his part in the great
+organisation which Ommaney controlled.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you'll be back between three and four?"
+Ommaney said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'll go and pack at once," Spence answered.
+"My passport from the Foreign Office is all right now."</p>
+
+<p>He rose to go, vigorous, and with an inexpressible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>
+sense of relief at the active prospect before him. There
+would be no time for haunting thought, for personal fears
+yet. He was going, himself, to the very heart of things,
+to see and to gain personal knowledge of these events
+which were shadowing the world.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened as he rose and Folliott Farmer strode
+in. With him was a tall, distinguished man of about
+five-and-thirty; he was in evening dress and rather bald.</p>
+
+<p>It was Lord Trelyon, the Prime Minister's private
+secretary.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought I would come myself with Mr. Farmer,
+Mr. Ommaney," he said, shaking hands cordially.
+"Lord &mdash;&mdash; will see you. He tells me to say that if it
+is absolutely imperative he will see you. I suppose there
+is no doubt of that?"</p>
+
+<p>"None whatever, I'm sorry to say, Lord Trelyon,"
+the editor answered. "Farmer, will you take charge till
+I return?"</p>
+
+<p>He slipped on his overcoat and a felt hat and left the
+room with the secretary without looking back. Spence
+followed the two down the stairs&mdash;the tall, athletic young
+fellow and the slim, nervous journalist. These were
+just driving furiously towards the Law Courts as Spence
+turned into Fleet Street on his way to Lincoln's Inn.</p>
+
+<p>Fleet Street was brilliantly lit and almost silent. A
+few cabs hovered about and that was all. Presently all
+the air would be filled with the dull roar and hum of the
+great printing machines in their underground halls, but
+the press hour was hardly yet.</p>
+
+<p>The porter let him into the Inn, and in a few moments
+he was striking matches and lighting the gas. Mrs. Buscall
+had cleared away the breakfast things, but the fire
+had long since gone out. The big rooms looked very
+bare and solitary, unfamiliar almost, as the gas-jets
+hissed in the silence.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>One or two letters were in the box. One envelope
+bore the Manchester post-mark. It was from Basil
+Gortre. A curious pang, half wonder and anticipation,
+half fear, passed through his mind as he saw the familiar
+handwriting of his friend. But it was a pang for Gortre,
+not for himself. He himself was wholly detached now
+that the time for action had arrived. Personal consideration
+would come later. At present he was starting
+out on the old trail&mdash;"The old trail, the long trail, the
+trail that is always new."</p>
+
+<p>He felt a <i>man</i> again, with a fierce joy and exultation
+throbbing in all his veins after the torpor of the last few
+weeks.</p>
+
+<p>He sat down at the table, first getting some bread and
+cheese from a cupboard, for he was hungry, and opening
+a bottle of beer. The beer tasted wonderfully good.
+He laughed exultingly in the flow of his high spirits.</p>
+
+<p>He wrote a note to Mrs. Buscall, long since inured to
+these sudden midnight departures, and another to Gortre.
+To him he said that some great and momentous discoveries
+were made at Jerusalem by Hands, and that he
+himself was starting at once for the Holy City as special
+correspondent for the <i>Wire</i>. He would write <i>en route</i>,
+he explained, there was no time for any details now.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor chap," he said to himself, "he'll know soon
+enough now. I hope he won't take it very badly."</p>
+
+<p>Then he went into his bedroom and hauled down the
+great pig-skin kit-bag, covered with foreign labels, which
+had accompanied him half over the world.</p>
+
+<p>He packed quickly and completely, the result of long
+practice. The pads of paper, the stylographic pens,
+with the special ink for hot countries which would not
+dry up or corrode, his revolvers, riding-breeches, boots
+and spurs, the kodak, with spare films and light-tight zinc
+cases, the old sun helmet&mdash;he forgot nothing.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>When he had finished, and the big bag, with a small
+Gladstone also, was strapped and locked, he changed
+joyously from the black coat of cities into his travelling
+tweeds of tough cloth. At length everything seemed
+prepared. He sat on the bed and looked round him,
+willing to be gone.</p>
+
+<p>His eye fell on the opposite wall. A crucifix hung
+there, carved in ebony and ivory. During his short holiday
+at Dieppe, nearly nine months ago now, he had gone
+into the famous little shop there where carved work of
+all kinds is sold. Basil and Helena were with him and
+they had all bought mementoes. Helena had given him
+that.</p>
+
+<p>And as he looked at it now he wondered what his
+journey would bring forth. Was he, indeed, chosen out
+of men to go to this far country to tear Christ from that
+awful and holy eminence of the Cross? Was it to be his
+mission to extinguish the <i>Lux Mundi</i>?</p>
+
+<p>As he gazed at the sacred emblem he felt that this
+could not be.</p>
+
+<p>No, no! a thousand times no. Jesus <i>had</i> risen to save
+him and all other sinners. It <i>was</i> so, must be so, should
+be so.</p>
+
+<p>The Holy Name was in itself enough. He whispered
+it to himself. No, <i>that</i> was eternally, gloriously true.</p>
+
+<p>Humbly, faithfully, gladly he knelt among the litter of
+the room and said the Lord's Prayer, said it in Latin as
+he had said it at school&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<i>Pater noster!</i><br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IIb" id="CHAPTER_IIb">CHAPTER II</a></h2>
+
+<h4>AVOIDING THE FLOWER PATTERN ON THE CARPET</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">S</span><span class="smcap">ir Michael Manichoe</span>, the stay and pillar of
+"Anglicanism" in the English Church, was a man
+of great natural gifts. The owner of one of those colossal
+Jewish fortunes which, few as they are, have such
+far-reaching influence upon English life, he employed it
+in a way which, for a man in his position, was unique.</p>
+
+<p>He presented the curious spectacle, to sociologists and
+the world at large, of a Jew by origin who had become a
+Christian by conviction and one of the sincerest sons of
+the English Church as he understood it. In political
+life Sir Michael was a steady, rather than a brilliant,
+force. He had been Home Secretary under a former
+Conservative administration, but had retired from office.
+At the present moment he was a private member for the
+division in which his country house, Fencastle, stood,
+and he enjoyed the confidence of the chiefs of his party.</p>
+
+<p>His great talent was for organisation, and all his powers
+in that direction were devoted towards the preservation
+and unification of the Church to which he was a convert.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Michael's convictions were perfectly clear and
+straightforward. He believed, with all his heart, in the
+Catholicity of the Anglican persuasion. Roman priests
+he spoke of as "members of the Italian mission"; Nonconformists
+as "adherents to the lawless bands of Dissent."
+He allowed the validity of Roman orders and
+spoke of the Pope as the "Bishop of Rome," an Italian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>
+ecclesiastic with whom the English communion had little
+or nothing to do.</p>
+
+<p>In his intimate and private life Sir Michael lived according
+to rubric. His splendid private chapel at Fencastle
+enjoyed the services of a chaplain, reinforced by
+priests from a community of Anglican monks which Sir
+Michael had established in an adjacent village. In London,
+St. Mary's was, in some sense, his particular property.
+He spent fabulous sums on the big Bloomsbury
+Parish and the needs of its great, cathedral-like church.
+There was no vicar in London who enjoyed the command
+of money that Father Ripon enjoyed. Certainly there
+was no other priest in the ranks of the High Churchmen
+who was the confidential friend and spiritual director of
+so powerful a political and social personality.</p>
+
+<p>Yet in his public life Sir Michael was diplomatic
+enough. He worked steadily for one thing, it is true,
+but he was far too able to allow people to call him narrow-minded.
+The Oriental strain of cunning in his blood had
+sweetened to a wise diplomacy. While he always remembered
+he was a Churchman, he did not forget that to
+be an effective and helpful one he must keep his political
+and social eminence. And so, whatever might take place
+behind the scenes in the library with Father Ripon, or in
+the Bloomsbury clergy house, the baronet showed the
+world the face of a man of the world, and neither obtruded
+his private views nor allowed them to disturb his
+colleagues.</p>
+
+<p>The day after the news arrived in Fleet Street from
+Palestine&mdash;while nothing was yet known and Harold
+Spence was rushing through Amiens <i>en route</i> for Paris
+and the East&mdash;a house party began to collect at Fencastle,
+the great place in Lincolnshire.</p>
+
+<p>For a day or two a few rather important people were
+to meet under Sir Michael's roof. Now and then the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
+palace in the fen lands was the scene of notable gatherings,
+much talked of in certain circles and commented
+on by people who would truthfully have described themselves
+as being "in the know."</p>
+
+<p>These parties were, indeed, congresses of the eminent,
+the "big" people who quietly control an England which
+the ignorant and the vulgar love to imagine is in the
+hands of a corrupt society of well-born, "smart," and
+pleasure-seeking people.</p>
+
+<p>The folk who gathered at Fencastle were as remote
+from the gambling, lecherous, rabbit-brained set which
+glitters so brightly before the eyes of the uninformed as
+any staid, middle-class reader of the popular journals.</p>
+
+<p>In this stronghold of English Catholicism&mdash;"hot-bed
+of ritualists" as the brawling "Protestant" journals
+called it, one met a diversity of people, widely divided
+in views and only alike in one thing&mdash;the dominant
+quality of their brains and position.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Michael thought it well that even his professed
+opponents should meet at his table, for it gave both him
+and his lieutenants new data and fresh impressions for
+use in the campaign. Sir Michael's convictions were
+perfectly unalterable, but to find out how others&mdash;and
+those hostile&mdash;really regarded them only added to the
+weapons in his armoury.</p>
+
+<p>And, as one London priest once remarked to another,
+the combination of a Jewish brain and a Christian heart
+was one which had already revolutionised Society nearly
+two thousand years ago in the persons of eleven distinguished
+instances.</p>
+
+<p>As Father Ripon drove to Liverpool Street Station
+after lunch, to catch the afternoon train to the eastern
+counties, he was reading a letter as his cab turned into
+Cheapside and crawled slowly through the heavy afternoon
+traffic of the city.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p>
+
+<blockquote><p>" ... It will be as well for you to see the man <i>�
+huisclos</i> and form your own opinions. There can be no
+doubt that he is a force to be reckoned with, and he is,
+moreover, as I think you will agree after inspection, far
+more brilliant and able than any other <i>professed</i> antichristian
+of the front rank. Then there will also be
+Mrs. Hubert Armstrong. She is a pseudo-intellectual
+force, but her writings have a certain heaviness and
+authoritative note which I believe to have real influence
+with the large class of semi-educated people who mistake
+an <i>atmosphere</i> of knowledge for knowledge itself. A
+very charming woman, by the way, and I think sincere.
+Matthew Arnold and water!</p>
+
+<p>"The Duke of Suffolk will stop a night on his way
+home. He writes that he wishes to see you. As you
+know, he is just back from Rome, and now that they
+have definitely pronounced against the validity of Anglican
+orders he is most anxious to have a further chat with
+you in order to form a working opinion as to <i>our</i> position.
+From his letter to me, and the extremely interesting account
+he gives of his interview at the Vatican, I gather
+that the Roman Church still utterly misunderstands our
+attitude, and that hopes there are high of the ultimate
+"conversion" of England. I hope that as a representative
+of English Churchmen you will be able to define
+what we think in an unmistakable way. This will have
+value. Among my other guests you will meet Canon
+Walke. He is preaching in Lincoln Cathedral on the
+Sunday, fresh from Windsor. "Render unto C�sar"
+will, I allow myself to imagine, not be an unlikely text
+for his homily.&mdash;I am, Father, yours most sincerely,</p>
+
+<p class="p2b"><span style="margin-left:10em">
+"M. M."</span></p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Still thinking carefully over Sir Michael's letter, Father
+Ripon bought his ticket and made his way to the platform.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He got into a first-class carriage. While in London
+the priest lived a life of asceticism and simplicity which
+was not so much a considered thing as the outcome of
+an absolute and unconscious carelessness about personal
+and material comfort; when he went thus to a great
+country house, he complied with convention because it
+was politic.</p>
+
+<p>He was the grandson of a peer, and, though he laughed
+at these small points, he wished to meet his friend's opinions
+in any reasonable way, rather than to flout them.</p>
+
+<p>The carriage was empty, though a pile of newspapers
+and a travelling rug in one corner showed Father Ripon
+that he was to have one companion at any rate upon the
+journey.</p>
+
+<p>He had bought the <i>Church Times</i> at the bookstall and
+was soon deeply immersed in the report of a Bampton
+Lecture delivered during the week at the University
+Church in Oxford.</p>
+
+<p>Some one entered the carriage, the door was shut, and
+the train began to move out of the station, but he was
+too interested to look up to see who his companion
+might be.</p>
+
+<p>A voice broke in upon his thoughts as they were tearing
+through the wide-spread slums of Bethnal Green.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mind if I smoke, sir? This isn't a smoking
+carriage, but we are alone&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>It was an ordinary query enough. "Oh, dear, no!"
+said the priest. "Please do, to your heart's content. It
+doesn't inconvenience <i>me</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Father Ripon's quick, breezy manner seemed to interest
+the stranger. He looked up and saw a personality.
+Obviously this clergyman was some one of note. The
+heavy brows, the hawk-like nose, the large, firm, and yet
+kindly mouth, all these seemed familiar in some vague
+way.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>For his part, Father Ripon experienced much the
+same sensation as he glanced at the tall stranger. His
+hair, which could be seen beneath his ordinary hard felt
+hat, was dark red and somewhat abundant. His features
+were Semitic, but without a trace of that fulness, and
+often coarseness, which sometimes marks the Jew who
+has come to the period of middle life. The large black
+eyes were neither dull nor lifeless, but simply cold, irresponsive,
+and alert. A massive jaw completed an impression
+which was remarkable in its fineness and almost
+sinister beauty.</p>
+
+<p>The priest found it remarkable but with no sense of
+strangeness. He had seen the man before.</p>
+
+<p>Recognition came to Schuabe first.</p>
+
+<p>"Excuse me," he said, "but surely you are Father
+Ripon? I am Constantine Schuabe."</p>
+
+<p>Ripon gave a merry chuckle. "I knew I knew you!"
+he said, "but I couldn't think quite who you were for a
+moment. Sir Michael tells me you're going to Fencastle;
+so am I."</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe leaned back in his seat and regarded Father
+Ripon with a steady and calm scrutiny, somewhat with
+the manner of a naturalist examining a curious specimen,
+with a suggestion of aloofness in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Father Ripon smiled rather sternly, and the
+deep furrows which sprang into his cheeks showed the
+latent strength and power of the face.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mr. Schuabe," he said abruptly, "the train
+doesn't stop anywhere for an hour, so willy-nilly you're
+locked up with a priest!"</p>
+
+<p>"A welcome opportunity, Father Ripon, to convince
+one that perhaps the devil isn't as black as he's painted."</p>
+
+<p>"I've read your books," said Ripon, "and I believe
+you are sincere, Mr. Schuabe. It's not a personal
+question at all. At the same time, if I had the power,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>
+you know I should cheerfully execute you or imprison
+you for life, not out of revenge for what you have done,
+but as a precautionary measure. You should have no
+further opportunity of doing harm." He smiled grimly
+as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Rather severe, Father," said Schuabe laughing.
+"Because I find that in a rational view of history there
+is no place for a Resurrection and Ascension you would
+give me your blessing and an <i>auto da f�</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"I rather believe in stern measures, sometimes," answered
+the clergyman, with an underlying seriousness,
+though he spoke half in jest. "Not for <i>all</i> heretics, you
+know&mdash;only the dangerous ones."</p>
+
+<p>"You are afraid of <i>intellect</i> when it is brought to bear
+on these questions."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought that would be your rejoinder. Superficially
+it is a very telling one, because there is nothing
+so insidious as a half-truth. In a sense what you say is
+true. There are a great many Christians whose faith is
+weak and whose natural inclinations, assisted by supernatural
+temptations, are towards a life of sin. Christianity
+keeps them from it. Now, your books come in the way
+of such people as these far more readily and easily than
+works of Christian apologetics written with equal power.
+An <i>attack</i> upon our position has all the elements of popularity
+and novelty. <i>It is more seen.</i> For example, ten
+thousand people have heard of your <i>Christ Reconceived</i>
+for every ten who know Lathom's <i>Risen Master</i>. You
+have said the last word for agnosticism and made it
+widely public, the Master of Trinity Hall has said the
+last word for Christianity and only scholars know of it.
+It isn't the strength of your case which makes you dangerous,
+it's the ignorance of the public and a condition
+of affairs which makes it possible for you to shout
+loudest."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, there is at least a half-truth in what you say
+also, Mr. Ripon," said Schuabe. "But you don't seem
+to have brought anything to eat. Will you share my
+luncheon basket? There is quite enough for two
+people."</p>
+
+<p>Father Ripon had been called away after the early
+Eucharist, and had quite forgotten to have any breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you very much," he said; "I will. I suddenly
+seem to be hungry, and after all there is scriptural
+precedent for spoiling the Egyptians!"</p>
+
+<p>Both laughed again, sheathed their weapons, and began
+to eat.</p>
+
+<p>Each of them was a man of the world, cultured, with
+a charming personality. Each knew the other was impervious
+to attack.</p>
+
+<p>Only once, as the short afternoon was darkening and
+they were approaching their destination, did Schuabe
+refer to controversial subjects. The carriage was shadowed
+and dusky as they rushed through the desolate
+fenlands. The millionaire lit a match for a cigarette,
+and the sudden flare showed the priest's face, set and
+stern. He seemed to be thinking deeply.</p>
+
+<p>"What would you say or do, Father Ripon," Schuabe
+asked, in a tone of interested curiosity,&mdash;"What would
+you do if some stupendous thing were to happen,
+something to occur which proved without doubt that
+Christ was not divine? Supposing that it suddenly became
+an absolute fact, a historical fact which every one
+must accept?"</p>
+
+<p>"Some new discovery, you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if you like; never mind the actual means.
+Assume for a moment that it became certain as an historical
+fact that the Resurrection did not take place. I
+say that the ignorant love of Christ's followers wreathed
+His life in legend, that the true story was from the be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>ginning
+obscured by error, hysteria, and mistake. Supposing
+something proved what I say in such a way as to
+leave no loophole for denial. What would you do? As
+a representative Churchman, what would you do? This
+interests me."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you are assuming an impossibility, and I can't
+argue on such a postulate. But, if for a moment what
+you say <i>could</i> happen, I might not be able to deny these
+proofs, but I should never believe them."</p>
+
+<p>"But surely&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Christ is <i>within</i>; I have found Him myself without
+possibility of mistake; day and night I am in communion
+with Him."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Schuabe, dryly, "there is no convincing
+a person who takes <i>that</i> attitude. But it is rare."</p>
+
+<p>"Faith is weak in the world," said the priest, with a
+sigh, as the train drew up in the little wayside station.</p>
+
+<p>A footman took their luggage to a carriage which was
+waiting, and they drove off rapidly through the twilight,
+over the bare brown fen with a chill leaden sky meeting
+it on the horizon, towards Fencastle.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Michael's house was an immemorial feature of
+those parts. Josiah Manichoe, his father, had bought it
+from old Lord Lostorich. To this day Sir Michael paid
+two pounds each year, as "Knight's fee," to the lord of
+the manor at Denton, a fee first paid in 1236. As it
+stood now, the house was Tudor in exterior, covering a
+vast area with its stately, explicit, and yet homelike,
+rather than "homely," beauty.</p>
+
+<p>The interior of the house was treated with great
+judgment and artistic ability. A successful effort had
+been made to combine the greatest measure of modern
+comfort without unduly disturbing the essential character
+of the place. Thus Father Ripon found himself in
+an ancient bedroom with a painted ceiling and panelled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>
+walls. The furniture was in keeping with the design,
+but electric lamps had been fitted to the massive pewter
+sconces on the wall, and the towel-rail by the washing-stand
+was made of copper tubing through which hot
+water passed constantly.</p>
+
+<p>The dinner-gong boomed at eight and Ripon went
+down into the great hall, where a group of people were
+standing round an open fire of peat and coal.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Bardilly, a widowed sister of Sir Michael's,
+acted as hostess, a quiet, matronly woman, very Jewish
+in aspect, shrewd and placid in temper, an admirable
+<i>ch�telaine</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Talking to her was Mrs. Hubert Armstrong, the
+famous woman novelist. Mrs. Armstrong was tall and
+grandly built. Her grey hair was drawn over a massive,
+manlike brow in smooth folds, her face was finely
+chiselled. The mouth was large, rather sweet in expression,
+but with a slight hinting of "superiority" in repose
+and condescension in movement. When she spoke,
+always in full, well-chosen periods, it was with an air
+of somewhat final pronouncement. She was ever <i>ex
+cathedra</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The lady's position was a great one. Every two or
+three years she published a weighty novel, admirably
+written, full of real culture, and without a trace of
+humour. In those productions, treatises rather than
+novels, the theme was generally that of a high-bred
+philosophical negation of the Incarnation. Mrs. Armstrong
+pitied Christians with passionate certainty. Gently
+and lovingly she essayed to open blinded eyes to
+the truth. With great condescension she still believed
+in God and preached Christ as a mighty teacher.</p>
+
+<p>One of her utterances suffices to show the colossal
+arrogance&mdash;almost laughable were it not so <i>bizarre</i>&mdash;of
+her intellect:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<i>The world has expanded since Jesus preached in the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>
+dim ancient cities of the East. Men and women of to-day
+cannot learn the</i> complete <i>lesson of God from him now&mdash;indeed
+they could not in those old times. But all that is
+most necessary in forming character, all that makes for
+pureness and clarity of soul&mdash;this Jesus has still for us as
+he had for the people of his own time.</i>"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>After the enormous success of her book, <i>John Mulgrave</i>,
+Mrs. Armstrong more than half believed she had
+struck a final blow at the errors of Christianity.</p>
+
+<p>Shrewd critics remarked that <i>John Mulgrave</i> described
+the perversion of the hero with great skill and
+literary power, while quite forgetting to recapitulate the
+arguments which had brought it about.</p>
+
+<p>The woman was really educated, but her success was
+with half-educated readers. Her works excited to a sort
+of frenzy clergymen who realised their insidious hollowness.
+Her success was real; her influence appeared to
+be real also. It was a deplorable fact that she swayed
+fools.</p>
+
+<p>By laying on the paint very thick and using bright
+colours, Mrs. Armstrong caught the class immediately
+below that which read the works of Constantine Schuabe.
+They were captain and lieutenant, formidable in coalition.</p>
+
+<p>A short, carelessly dressed man&mdash;his evening tie was
+badly arranged and his trousers were ill cut&mdash;was the
+Duke of Suffolk. His face was covered with dust-coloured
+hair, his eyes bright and restless. The Duke
+was the greatest Roman Catholic nobleman in England.
+His vast wealth and eager, though not first-class, brain
+were devoted entirely to the conversion of the country.
+He was beloved by men of all creeds.</p>
+
+<p>Canon Walke, the great popular preacher, was a handsome<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>
+man, portly, large, and gracious in manner. He
+was destined for high preferment, a <i>persona grata</i> at
+Court, suave and redolent of the lofty circles in which
+he moved.</p>
+
+<p>Canon Walke was talking to Schuabe with great animation
+and a sort of purring geniality.</p>
+
+<p>Dinner was a very pleasant meal. Every one talked
+well. Great events in Society and politics were discussed
+by the people who were themselves responsible
+for them.</p>
+
+<p>Here was the inner circle itself, serene, bland, and
+guarded from the crowd outside. And perhaps, with
+the single exception of Father Ripon, who never thought
+about it at all, every one was pleasantly conscious of
+pulling the strings. They sat, Jove-like, kindly tolerant
+of lesser mortals, discussing, over a dessert, what they
+should do for the world.</p>
+
+<p>At eleven nearly every one had retired for the night.
+Father Ripon and his host sat talking in the library for
+another hour discussing church matters. At twelve
+these two also retired.</p>
+
+<p>And now the great house was silent save for the
+bitter winter wind which sobbed and moaned round the
+towers.</p>
+
+<p>It was the eve of the twelfth of December. The
+world was as usual and the night came to England with
+no hintings of the morrow.</p>
+
+<p>Far away in Lancashire, Basil Gortre was sleeping
+calmly after a long, quiet evening with Helena and her
+father.</p>
+
+<p>Father Ripon had said his prayers and lay half dreaming
+in bed, watching the firelight glows and shadows on
+the panelling and listening to the fierce outside wind
+as if it were a lullaby.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Hubert Armstrong was touching up an article<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>
+for the <i>Nineteenth Century</i> in her bedroom. An open
+volume of Renan stood by her side; here and there the
+lady deftly paraphrased a few lines. Occasionally she
+sipped a cup of black-currant tea&mdash;an amiable weakness
+of this paragon when engaged upon her stirring labours.</p>
+
+<p>In the next room Schuabe, with haggard face and
+twitching lips, paced rapidly up and down. From the
+door to the dressing-table&mdash;seven steps. From there to
+the fireplace&mdash;ten steps&mdash;avoiding the flower pattern of
+the carpet, stepping only on the blue squares. Seven!
+ten! and then back again.</p>
+
+<p>Ten, seven, turn. A cold, soft dew came out upon
+his face, dried, hardened, and burst forth again.</p>
+
+<p>Seven, ten, stop for a glass of water, and then on
+again, rapidly, hurriedly; the dawn is coming very
+near.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">Ten! seven! turn!</p>
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IIIb" id="CHAPTER_IIIb">CHAPTER III</a></h2>
+
+<h4>"I, JOSEPH"</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">A</span><span class="smcap">t</span> about nine o'clock the next morning there was a
+knock at Father Ripon's door and Lindner, Sir
+Michael's confidential man, entered.</p>
+
+<p>He seemed slightly agitated.</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon, Father," he said, "but Sir
+Michael instructed me to come to you at once. Sir
+Michael begs that you will read the columns marked in
+this paper and then join him at once in his own room."</p>
+
+<p>The man bowed slightly and went noiselessly away.</p>
+
+<p>Impressed with Lindner's manner, Father Ripon sat
+up in bed and opened the paper. It was a copy of the
+<i>Daily Wire</i> which had just arrived by special messenger
+from the station.</p>
+
+<p>The priest's eyes fell first upon the news summary. A
+paragraph was heavily scored round with ink.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p2b">"<i>Page 7.</i>&mdash;A communication of the utmost gravity
+and importance reaches us from Palestine, dealing with
+certain discoveries at Jerusalem, made by Mr. Cyril
+Hands, the agent of the Palestine Exploring Fund, and
+Herr Schm�ulder, the famous German historian."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p2b">Ripon turned hastily to the seventh page of the paper,
+where all the foreign telegrams were. This is what he
+read:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="center">"NOTE<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="p2b">
+"<i>In reference to the following statements, the Editor wishes it to
+be distinctly understood that he prints them without comment or bias.
+Nothing can yet be definitely known as to the truth of what is stated
+here until the strictest investigations have been made. Our special
+Commissioner left London for the East twenty-four hours ago. The
+Editor of this paper is in communication with the Prime Minister
+and His Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury. A special edition of
+the 'Daily Wire' will be published at two o'clock this afternoon.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">"MOMENTOUS NEWS FROM JERUSALEM</p>
+
+<p>"For the last three months, under a new firman
+granted by the Turkish Government, the authorities of
+the Palestine Exploring Society have been engaged in
+extensive operations in the waste ground beyond the
+Damascus Gate at Jerusalem.</p>
+
+<p>"It is in this quarter, as arch�ologists and students
+will be aware, that some years ago the reputed site of
+Calvary and the Holy Sepulchre was placed. Considerable
+discussion was raised at the time and the evidence
+for and against the new and the traditional sites was
+hotly debated.</p>
+
+<p>"Ten days ago, Mr. Cyril Hands, M.A., the learned
+and trusted English explorer, made a further discovery
+which may prove to be far-reaching in its influence on
+Christian peoples.</p>
+
+<p>"During the excavations a system of tombs were discovered,
+dating from forty or fifty years before Christ,
+according to Mr. Hands's estimate. The tombs are indisputably
+Jewish and not Christian, a fact which is
+proved by the presence of <i>k�k�m</i>, characteristic of Jewish
+tombs in preference to the usual Christian <i>arcosolia</i>.
+They are Herodian in character.</p>
+
+<p>"These tombs consist of an irregularly cut group of
+two chambers. The door is coarsely moulded. Both
+chambers are crooked, and in their floors are four-sided<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
+depressions, 1 foot 2 inches deep in the outer, 2 feet in
+the inner chamber. The roof of the outer chamber is 6
+feet above its floor, that of the inner 5 feet 2 inches.</p>
+
+<p>"The doorway leading to the inner tomb was built up
+into stone blocks. Fragments of that coating of broken
+brick and pounded pottery, which is still used in Palestine
+under the name <i>hamra</i>, which lay at the foot of
+the sealed entrance, showed that it had at one time been
+plastered over, and was in the nature of a secret room.</p>
+
+<p>"In the depression in the floor of the outer room was
+found a minute fragment of a glass receptacle containing
+a small quantity of blackish powder. This has been
+analysed by M. Constant Allard, the French chemist.
+The glass vessel he found to be an ordinary silicate
+which had become devitrified and coloured by oxide of
+iron. The contents were finely divided lead and traces
+of antimony, showing it to be one of the cosmetics prepared
+for purposes of sepulture.</p>
+
+<p>"When the interior of the second tomb had been
+reached, a single <i>loculus</i> or stone slab for the reception
+of a body was found.</p>
+
+<p>"Over the <i>loculus</i> the following Greek inscription in
+uncial characters was found in a state of good preservation,
+with the exception of two letters:</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">"[<i>See drawing of inscription on this page, made from photographs
+in our possession. We print the inscription below in cursive Greek
+text, afterwards dividing it into its component words and giving its
+translation.&mdash;Editor, Daily Wire.</i>]</p>
+
+<p class="pinset11">FACSIMILE IN MODERN GREEK SCRIPT</p>
+
+<p class="pinset11">
+&#917;&#947;&#969;&#953;&#969;&#963;&#951;&#966;&#959;&#945;&#960;&#959;&#945;&#961;&#953;&#956;&#945;&#952;&#949;&#953;&#945;&#962;&#955;&#945;&#946;&#969;<br />
+&#957;&#964;&#959;&#963;&#969;&#956;&#945;&#964;&#959;&#965;&#953;&#951;&#963;&#959;&#965;&#964;&#959;&#965;&#945;&#960;&#959;&#957;&#945;**<br />
+&#961;&#949;&#964;&#945;&#960;&#959;&#964;&#959;&#965;&#956;&#957;&#951;&#956;&#949;&#953;&#959;&#965;&#959;&#960;&#959;&#965;&#964;&#959;&#960;&#961;&#969;&#964;<br />
+&#959;&#957;&#949;&#954;&#949;&#953;&#964;&#959;&#949;&#957;&#964;&#969;&#964;&#959;&#960;&#969;&#964;&#959;&#965;&#964;&#969;&#949;&#957;&#949;&#954;&#961;&#965;&#968;&#945;<br />
+</p>
+<p class="pinset11a">** = lacun� of two letters.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="pinset11"><span class="smcap">FINAL READING OF THE INSCRIPTION</span></p>
+
+<p>&#917;&#947;&#969; &#921;&#969;&#963;&#951;&#966; &#8001; &#7936;&#960;&#959; &#913;&#961;&#953;&#956;&#945;&#952;&#949;&#953;&#945;&#962; &#955;&#945;&#946;&#969;&#957; &#964;&#959; &#963;&#969;&#956;&#945; &#964;&#959;&#965; &#921;&#951;&#963;&#959;&#965;
+&#964;&#959;&#965; &#7936;&#960;&#959; &#925;&#945;[&#950;&#945;]&#961;&#949;&#964; &#7936;&#960;&#959; &#964;&#959;&#965; &#956;&#957;&#951;&#956;&#949;&#953;&#959;&#965; &#8001;&#960;&#959;&#965; &#964;&#959; &#960;&#961;&#969;&#964;&#959;&#957; &#7952;&#954;&#949;&#953;&#964;&#959; &#7952;&#957;
+&#964;&#969; &#964;&#959;&#960;&#969; &#964;&#959;&#965;&#964;&#969; &#7952;&#957;&#949;&#954;&#961;&#965;&#968;&#945;</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">
+[ ] = letters supplied.</p>
+
+<p class="pinset11">"<span class="smcap">TRANSLATION INTO ENGLISH OF THE INSCRIPTION</span></p>
+
+<p class="p03">
+"I, JOSEPH OF ARIMATH�A, TOOK THE BODY OF
+JESUS, THE NAZARENE, FROM THE TOMB WHERE IT
+WAS FIRST LAID AND HID IT IN THIS PLACE.
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">"The slight mould on the stone slab, which may or may
+not be that of a decomposed body, has been reverently
+gathered into a sealed vessel by Mr. Hands, who is
+waiting instructions.</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Schm�ulder, the famous <i>savant</i> from Berlin, has
+arrived at Jerusalem, and is in communication with the
+German Emperor regarding the discovery.</p>
+
+<p>"At present it would be presumptuous and idle to
+comment upon these stupendous facts. It seems our
+duty, however, to quote a final passage from Mr. Hands's
+communication, and to state that we have a cablegram
+in our possession from Dr. Schm�ulder, which states
+that he is in entire agreement with Mr. Hands's conclusions.</p>
+
+<p>"To sum up. There now seems no shadow of doubt
+that the disappearance of The Body of Christ from the
+first tomb is accounted for, and that the Resurrection as
+told in the Gospels did not take place. Joseph of
+Arimath�a here confesses that he stole away the body,
+probably in order to spare the Disciples and friends of
+the dead Teacher, with whom he was in sympathy, the
+shame and misery of the final end to their hopes.</p>
+
+<p>"The use of the first aorist '&#7952;&#957;&#949;&#954;&#961;&#965;&#968;&#945;,' 'I hid,' seems<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>
+to indicate that Joseph was making a confession to satisfy
+his own mind, with a very vague idea of it ever
+being read. Were his confession written for future
+ages, we may surmise that the perfect '&#954;&#949;&#954;&#961;&#965;&#966;&#945;,' 'I
+have hidden,' would have been used."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>So the simple, bald narrative ended, without a single
+attempt at sensationalism on the part of the newspaper.</p>
+
+<p>Just as Father Ripon laid down the newspaper, with
+shaking hands and a pallid face, Sir Michael Manichoe
+strode into the room.</p>
+
+<p>Tears of anger and shame were in his eyes, he moved
+jerkily, automatically, without volition. His right arm
+was sawing the air in meaningless gesticulation.</p>
+
+<p>He glanced furtively at Father Ripon and then sank
+into a chair by the bedside.</p>
+
+<p>The clergyman rose and dressed hastily. "We will
+speak of this in the library," he said, controlling himself
+by a tremendous effort. "Meanwhile&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He took some sal volatile from his dressing-case, gave
+some to his host, and drank some also.</p>
+
+<p>As they went down-stairs a brilliant sun streamed into
+the great hall. The world outside was bright and frost-bound.</p>
+
+<p>The bell of the private chapel was tolling for matins.</p>
+
+<p>The sound struck on both their brains very strangely.
+Sir Michael shuddered and grew ashen grey. Ripon
+recovered himself first.</p>
+
+<p>He placed his arm in his host's and turned towards
+the passage which led to the chapel.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, my friend," he said in low, sweet tones,
+"come to the altar. Let us pray together for Christendom.
+Peace waits us. Say the creed with me, for God
+will not desert us."</p>
+
+<p>They passed into the vaulted chapel with the seven<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>
+dim lamps burning before the altar, and knelt down in
+the chancel stalls. Some of the servants came in and then
+the chaplain began the confession.</p>
+
+<p>The stately monotone went on, echoing through the
+damp breath of the morning.</p>
+
+<p>Father Ripon and Sir Michael turned to the east.
+The sun was pouring through the great window of
+stained glass, where Christ was painted ascending to
+heaven.</p>
+
+<p>The two elderly men said the creed after the priest in
+firm, almost triumphant voices:</p>
+
+<p>"I believe in God the Father ... and in Jesus
+Christ His only Son our Lord.... The third day
+he arose again from the dead. He ascended into
+heaven...."</p>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p>And those two, as they came gravely out of church
+and walked to the library, <i>knew</i> that a great and awful
+lie was resounding through the world, for the Risen
+Christ had spoken with them, bidding them be of good
+courage for what was to come.</p>
+
+<p>The voice of Peter called down the ages:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p4b">"This Jesus hath God raised up, whereof we are all
+witnesses."</p></blockquote>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IVb" id="CHAPTER_IVb">CHAPTER IV</a></h2>
+
+<h4>THE DOMESTIC CHAPLAIN'S TESTIMONY</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">W</span><span class="smcap">hen</span> Mrs. Armstrong came down to breakfast
+her hostess told her, with many apologies, that
+Sir Michael had left for London with Father Ripon.
+They had gone by an early train. Matters of great
+moment were afoot.</p>
+
+<p>As this was being explained Mr. Wilson, the private
+chaplain, Schuabe, and Canon Walke entered the room.
+The Duke of Suffolk did not appear.</p>
+
+<p>A long, low room panelled in white, over which a huge
+fire of logs cast occasional cheery reflections, was used
+as a breakfast-room. Here and there the quiet simplicity
+of the place was violently disturbed by great
+gouts of colour, startling notes which, so cunningly had
+they been arranged in alternate opulence and denial,
+were harmonised with their background.</p>
+
+<p>A curtain of Tyrian purple, a sea picture full of gloom
+and glory, red light and wind; a bronze head, with brilliant,
+lifelike enamel eyes, the features swollen and
+brutal, from Sabacio&mdash;these were the means used by the
+young artist employed by Sir Michael to decorate the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>The long windows, hewn out of a six-foot wall, presented
+a sombre vista of great leafless trees standing in
+the trackless snow, touched here and there with the ruddiness
+of the winter sun.</p>
+
+<p>The glowing fire, the luxurious domesticity of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>
+round table, with its shining silver and gleaming china,
+the great quiet of the park outside, gave a singular peace
+and remoteness to the breakfast-room. Here one seemed
+far away from strife and disturbance.</p>
+
+<p>This was the usual aspect and atmosphere of all Fencastle,
+but as the members of the house-party came together
+for the meal the air became suddenly electrified.
+Invisible waves of excitement, of surmise, doubt, and fear
+radiated from these humans. All had seen the paper, and
+though at first not one of them referred to it, the currents
+of tumult and alarm were knocking loudly at heart and
+brain, varied and widely diverse as were the emotions of
+each one.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Hubert Armstrong at length broke the silence.
+Her speech was deliberate, her words were chosen with
+extreme care, her tone was hushed and almost reverential.</p>
+
+<p>"To-day," she said, "what I perceive we have all
+heard, may mean the sudden dawning of a New Light in
+the world. If this stupendous statement is true&mdash;and it
+bears every hall-mark of the truth even at this early
+stage&mdash;a new image of Jesus of Nazareth will be for ever
+indelibly graven on the hearts of mankind. That image
+which thought, study, and research have already made so
+vivid to some of us will be common to the world. The
+old, weary superstitions will vanish for all time. The
+real significance of the anthropomorphic view will be
+clear at last. The world will be able to realise the
+Real Figure as It went in and out among Its brother
+men."</p>
+
+<p>She spoke with extreme earnestness. No doubt she
+saw in this marvellous historical confirmation of her attitude
+a triumph for the school of which she had become
+the vocal chieftainess, that would ring and glitter through
+the world of thought. The mental arrogance which had
+already led this woman so far was already busy, opening<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>
+a vista that had suddenly become extremely dazzling,
+imminently near.</p>
+
+<p>At her words there was a sudden movement of relief
+among the others. The ice had been broken; formless
+and terrifying things assumed a shape that could be
+handled, discussed. Her words acted as a precipitate,
+which made analysis possible.</p>
+
+<p>The lady's calm, intellectual face, with its clear eyes
+and smooth bands of hair, waited with interest, but
+without impatience, for other views.</p>
+
+<p>Canon Walke took up her challenge. His words were
+assured enough, but Schuabe, listening with keen and
+sinister attention, detected a faint tremble, an alarmed
+lack of conviction. The courtier-Churchman, with his
+commanding presence, his grand manner, spoke without
+pedantry, but also without real force. His language was
+beautifully chosen, but it had not the ring of utter conviction,
+of passionate rejection of all that warred with
+Faith.</p>
+
+<p>A chaplain of the Court, the husband of an earl's
+daughter, a friend of royal folk, a future bishop, there
+were those who called him time-serving, exclusively ambitious.
+Schuabe realised that not here, indeed, was the
+great champion of Christianity. For a brief moment the
+Jew's mind flashed to a memory of the young curate at
+Manchester, then, with a little shudder of dislike, he
+bent his attention to Canon Walke's words.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Mrs. Armstrong," he was saying, "an article
+such as this in a newspaper will be dangerous; it will unsettle
+weak brains for a time until it is proved, as it will
+be proved, either a blasphemous fabrication or an ignorant
+mistake. It cannot be. Whatever the upshot of
+such rumours, they can only have a temporary effect.
+It may be that those at the head of the Church will have
+to sit close, to lay firm hold of principles, or anything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>
+that will steady the vessel as the storm sweeps up. This
+may be an even greater tempest than that which broke
+upon the Church in the days of the first George, when
+Christianity was believed to be fictitious. What did
+Bishop Butler say to his chaplain? He asked: 'What
+security is there against the insanity of individuals?
+The doctors know of none. Why, therefore, may not
+whole communities be seized with fits of insanity as well
+as individuals?' It is just that which will account for
+so much history tells us of wild revolt against Truth. It
+may be&mdash;God grant that it will not&mdash;that we are once
+more upon the eve of one of these storms. But, despite
+your anticipations, Mrs. Armstrong, you will see that the
+Church, as she has ever done, will weather the storm. I
+myself shall leave for town at mid-day, and follow the
+example of our host. My place is there. The Archbishop
+will, doubtless, hold a conference, if this story
+from Palestine seems to receive further confirmation.
+Such dangerous heresies must not be allowed to spread."</p>
+
+<p>Then Schuabe took up the discussion. "I fear for
+you, Canon Walke," he said, "and for the Church you
+represent. This news, it seems to me, is merely the
+evidence for the confirmation of what all thoughtful men
+believe to-day, though the majority of them do not
+speak out. There is a natural dislike to active propaganda,
+a timidity in combination to upset a system which
+is accepted, and which provides society as an ethical programme,
+though founded on initial error. But now&mdash;and
+I agree with Mrs. Armstrong in the extreme probability
+of this news being absolute fact, for Hands and Schm�ulder
+are names of weight&mdash;everything must be reconstructed
+and changed. The churches will go. Surely
+the times are ripe, the signs unmistakable? We are face
+to face with what is called an anti-clerical wave&mdash;a dislike
+to the clergy as the representatives of the Church, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>
+dislike to the Church as the embodiment of religion, a
+dislike to religion as an unwelcome restraint upon liberty
+of thought. The storm which will burst now has been
+muttering and gathering here in England no less than on
+the Continent. You have heard its murmur in the debates
+on the Education Act, in the proposed State legislation
+for your Church. Your most venerable and
+essential forms are like trees creaking and groaning in the
+blast; public opinion is rioting to destroy. But perhaps
+until this morning it has never had a weapon strong
+enough to attack such a stronghold as the Church with
+any hope of victory. There has been much noise, but
+that is all. It has been a matter of <i>feeling</i>; <i>conviction</i>
+has been weak, because it could only be supported by
+probabilities, not by certainties. The antichristian
+movement has been guided by emotions, hardly by principles.
+At last the great discovery which will rouse the
+world to sanity appears to have been made. Even as I
+speak in this quiet room the whole world is thrilling with
+this news. It is awakening from a long slumber."</p>
+
+<p>Walke heard his ringing words with manifest uneasiness.
+The man was unequal to the situation. He represented
+the earthly pomp and show of Christianity,
+wore the ceremonial vestments. He feared the concrete
+power, the vehement opposition of the mouthpiece of
+secularism. He saw the crisis, but from one side only.
+The deep spiritual love was not there.</p>
+
+<p>"You are exultant, Mr. Schuabe," he said coldly,
+"but you will hardly be so long."</p>
+
+<p>"You do not appreciate the situation, sir," Schuabe
+answered. "I can see further than you. A great intellectual
+peace will descend over the civilised world.
+Should one not exult at that, even though men must give
+up their dearest fetishes, their secret shrines; even
+though sentiment must be sacrificed to Truth? The religion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
+of Nature, which is based upon the determination
+not to believe anything which is unsupported by indubitable
+evidence, will become the faith of the future, the
+fulfilment of progress. It is as Huxley said, '<i>Religion
+ought to mean simply reverence and love for the Ethical
+Ideal, and the desire to realise that Ideal in life.</i>' Miracles
+do not happen. There has been no supernatural revelation,
+and nothing can be known of what Herbert Spencer
+calls the Infinite and Eternal Energy save by the study
+of the phenomena about us. And I repeat that the
+discovery we hear of to-day makes a thorough intellectual
+sanity possible for each living man. Doubt will
+disappear."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Mr. Schuabe," said Mrs. Armstrong, "you are
+right, incalculably right. It is to human intellect and
+that alone&mdash;the great Intellect of The Nazarene among
+others&mdash;that we must look from henceforth. Already by
+his unaided efforts man's achievements are everywhere
+breaking down superstition. The arts, the laws of gravitation,
+force, light, heat, sound, chemistry, electricity,
+and all that these imply&mdash;botany, medicine, bacteria, the
+circulation of the blood, the functions of the brain and
+nervous system (last-named abolishing all witchcraft and
+diabolic possession, such as we read of in the 'inspired'
+writings)&mdash;all these are but incidents in a progress never
+aided by the supernatural, but always impeded by the
+professors of it. Christians tortured the man who discovered
+the rotation of the earth, and in every church to-day
+absolutely false accounts of the origin of the world
+are publicly read. And as long as the world was content
+to believe that Jesus rose from the dead so long error
+has hindered development."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied Schuabe, "all this will, I believe, inevitably
+follow the discovery of the professors in Palestine.
+And what does Christianity, as it is at present<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>
+accepted, bring to the Christians? Localise it, and look
+at the English Church&mdash;Canon Walke's Church. At one
+time every one is a rigid Puritan and decries the bare
+accessories of worship, at another a Ritualist who twists
+and turns everything into fantastic shapes, as if he were
+furnishing an �sthetic bazaar. At another time these
+people are swayed with the doctrines of 'Christian
+Science,' and believe that pain is a pure trick of the
+diseased fancy, and matter the morbid creation of an
+unhealthy mind. Then we hear priests who tell us that
+the Old Testament (which in the same breath they announce
+to be witnessed to by Christ and His Apostles
+and the unbroken continuity of the Catholic Church) is
+an enlarged and plagiarised version of the days of a fantastic
+god discovered on a burnt brick at Babylon. And
+others sit anxiously waiting to know the precise value
+which this or that Gospel may possess, as its worth
+fluctuates like shares in the money market, with the last
+quotation from Germany! All this will cease."</p>
+
+<p>The while these august ones had been speaking, Father
+Wilson, the domestic chaplain at Fencastle, had remained
+silent but attentive.</p>
+
+<p>He was a lean, dark man, monk-like in appearance,
+somewhat saturnine on the surface. It was Sir Michael's
+wish, not the chaplain's, that he should sit with the
+guests as one of them, and make experience of the great
+ones of the world. For he had but little interest in
+worldly things or people.</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe's voice died away. Every one was a little
+exhausted, great matters had been dealt with. There
+came a little clink and clatter as they sought food.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Wilson looked up and began to speak. His
+voice was somewhat harsh and unsympathetic, his manner
+was uncompromising and without charm. As he
+spoke every one realised, with a sense of unpleasant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>
+shock, that he cared little or nothing for the society he
+was in.</p>
+
+<p>"It's very interesting, sir," he said, turning to
+Schuabe, "to hear all you have been saying. I have seen
+the paper and read of this so-called discovery too. Of
+course such a thing harmonises exactly with the opinions
+of those who want to believe it. But go and tell a devoted
+son of the Church that he has been fed with sacraments
+which are no sacraments, and all that he has done
+has been at best the honest mistake of a deceived man,
+and he will laugh in your face, as I do! There are memories,
+far back in his life, of confirmation, when his whole
+being was quickened and braced, which refuse to be explained
+as the hallucinations of a well-meaning but deceived
+man. There are memories when Christ drew near
+to his soul and helped him. Struggles with temptation
+are remembered when God's grace saved him. He also
+says, 'Whether He be a sorcerer or not I know not; one
+thing I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see.' It
+is easy to part with one in whom we have never really
+believed. We can easily surrender what we have never
+held. But you haven't a notion of the real Christian's
+convictions, Mr. Schuabe. Your estimate of the future
+is based upon utter ignorance of the Christian's heart.
+You are incapable of understanding the heart to which
+experience has made it clear that Jesus was indeed the
+very Christ. There are many people who are <i>called</i>
+Christians with whom your sayings and writings, and
+those of this lady here, have great power. It is because
+they have never found Christ. Unreal words, shallow
+emotions, unbalanced sentiment, leave such as these
+without armour in a time of tumult and conflicting cries.
+But if we <i>know</i> Him, if we can look back over a life
+richer and fuller because we <i>have</i> known Him, if we
+know, every man, the plague of his own heart, then your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>
+explorers may discover anything and we shall not believe.
+It is easy to prophesy as you have been doing all
+this meal-time&mdash;it is popular once more to shout the
+malignant 'Crucify'&mdash;but events will show you how
+utterly wrong you are in your estimate of the Christian
+character."</p>
+
+<p>They all stared at the chaplain. His sudden vigorous
+outburst, the harsh, unlovely voice, the contempt in it,
+was almost stupefying at first.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, though they had certainly no cue from Sir
+Michael, they had regarded the silent, rather forbidding
+priest, in his cassock and robe, a dress which typified his
+reserve and detachment from all their interests, in the
+light of an upper servant, almost. Nor was it so much
+his interference they resented as his manner of interfering.
+The supreme confidence of the man galled them;
+it was patronising in its strength.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Armstrong heard the outburst with a slight frown
+of displeasure, which, as the priest continued, changed
+into a smile of kindly tolerance, the attitude of a housemaid
+who spares a spider. She remembered that, after
+all, her duty lay in being kind to those of less power than
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>The speech touched Schuabe more nearly. He seemed
+to hear a familiar echo of a voice he hated and feared.
+There was something chilling in these men who drew a
+confidence and certainty, sublime in its immobility, from
+the Unseen. He felt, as he had felt before, the hated
+barrier which he could in no wise pass, this calm fanaticism
+which would not even listen to him, which was
+beyond his influence. The bitter hate which welled
+up in his heart, the terrible scorn which he had to repress
+at these insults to his evil and devilish egoism,
+gave him almost a sense of physical nausea. His pale
+face became pallid, but he showed no other sign of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>
+insane tempest within. He smiled slightly. That was
+all.</p>
+
+<p>As for Canon Walke, his feelings were varied. His
+face flickered with them in rapid alternation. He was
+quite conscious of the lack of life, fire, and conviction in
+what he himself had said. His own windy commonplaces
+shrank to nothingness and failure before the witnessing
+of the undistinguished priest. Before the two
+hostile intellects, the man and the woman, he had left
+the burden of the fight to this nobody. He was quick
+and jealous to mark the strength of Wilson's words, and
+his own failure had put him in an entirely false position.
+And yet a shrewd blow had been struck at Schuabe and
+Mrs. Armstrong; there was consolation in the fact.</p>
+
+<p>Father Wilson, when he had finished what he had to
+say, rose from his seat without more ado. "I will say a
+grace," he said. He made the sign of the Cross, muttered
+a short Latin thanksgiving, and strode from the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>"A fanatic," said Mrs. Armstrong.</p>
+
+<p>Neither Walke nor Schuabe replied.</p>
+
+<p>It was getting late in the morning. The sun had risen
+higher and flooded the level wastes of snow without.
+The little party finished their meal in silence.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">In the chapel Wilson knelt on the chancel step, praying
+that help and light might come to men and the imminent
+darkness pass away.</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_Vb" id="CHAPTER_Vb">CHAPTER V</a></h2>
+
+<h4>DEUS, DEUS MEUS, QUARE DERELIQUISTI!</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="smcap">he</span> Prime Minister was a man deeply interested
+in all philosophic thought, and especially in the
+Christian system of philosophy. He had written two
+most important books, weighty, brilliant contributions
+to the mass of thought by which his school laboured
+to make theism increasingly credible to the modern
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>He had proved that science, ethics, and theology are
+all open to the same kind of metaphysical difficulties, and
+that, therefore, to reject theology in the name of science
+was impossible. It was fortunate that, at this juncture,
+such a one should be at the head of affairs.</p>
+
+<p>The vast network of cables and telegraph wires, those
+tentacles which may be called the nerves of the world's
+brain, throbbed unceasingly after the tremendous announcement
+for which Ommaney had undertaken the
+responsibility.</p>
+
+<p>A battalion of special correspondents from every European
+and American paper of importance followed hot
+upon Harold Spence's trail.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, for the first two or three days the world
+at large hardly realised the importance of what was happening.
+Nothing was certain. The whole statement depended
+upon two men. To the mass of people these
+two names&mdash;Hands, Schm�ulder&mdash;conveyed no meaning
+whatever. Nine tenths of the population of England<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>
+knew nothing of the work of arch�ologists in Palestine,
+had never even heard of the Exploring Society.</p>
+
+<p>Had Consols fallen a point or two the effect would
+have been far greater, the fact would have made more
+stir.</p>
+
+<p>The great dailies of equal standing with the <i>Wire</i>
+were making every private preparation for a supply of
+news and a consensus of opinion. But all this activity
+went on behind the scenes, and nothing of it was yet
+allowed to transpire generally. The article in the <i>Wire</i>
+was quoted from, but opinions upon it were printed with
+the greatest caution and reserve. Indeed, the general
+apathy of England at large was a source of extreme
+wonder to the unthinking, fearing minority.</p>
+
+<p>The mass of the clergy, at any rate in public, affected
+to ignore, or did really honestly dismiss as impossible,
+the whole question. A few words of earnest exhortation
+and indignant denial were all they permitted themselves.</p>
+
+<p>But beneath the surface, and among the real influencers
+of public opinion, great anxiety was felt.</p>
+
+<p>The Patriarch of the Greek Church called a council
+of Bishops, and Dr. Procopides, an ephor of antiquities
+from Athens, was sent immediately to Palestine.</p>
+
+<p>The following paragraph, in substance, appeared in
+the leader page of all the English papers. It was disseminated
+by the Press Association:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"We are in a position to state, that in order to allay
+the feeling of uneasiness produced among the churches
+by a recent article in the <i>Daily Wire</i> making extraordinary
+statements as to a discovery in Jerusalem, a conference
+was held yesterday at Lambeth. Their Graces
+the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, the Bishops of
+Manchester, Gloucester, Durham, Lincoln, and London
+were present. Other well-known Churchmen consisted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>
+of Sir Michael Manichoe, Lord Robert Verulam, Canons
+Baragwaneth and Walke, the Dean of Christchurch and
+the Master of Trinity Hall. The Prime Minister was
+not present, but was represented by Mr. Alured King.
+Mr. Ommaney, the editor of the <i>Daily Wire</i>, was included
+in the conference. Although, from the names
+mentioned, it will be seen that the conference is considered
+to be of great importance, nothing has been allowed
+to transpire as to the result of its deliberations."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>This paragraph appeared on the morning of the third
+day after the initial article. It began to attract great attention
+throughout the United Kingdom during the early
+part of the day.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Westminster Gazette</i> in its third edition then published
+a further statement. The public learned:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Professor Clermont-Ganneau, the Professor of Biblical
+Antiquities at the French University of La Sorbonne,
+arrived in London yesterday night. He drove straight
+to the house of Sir Robert Llwellyn, the famous arch�ologist.
+Early this morning both gentlemen drove to
+Downing Street, where they remained closeted with the
+Prime Minister for an hour. While there, they were
+joined by Dr. Grier, the learned Bishop of Leeds, and
+Dr. Carr, the Warden of Wyckham College, Oxford.
+The four gentlemen were later driven to Charing Cross
+Station in a brougham. On the platform from which
+the Paris train starts they were met by Major-General
+Adams, the Vice-President of the Palestine Exploring
+Society, and Sir Michael Manichoe. The distinguished
+party entered a reserved saloon and left, <i>en route</i> for
+Paris, at mid-day. We are able to state on undeniable
+authority that the party, which represents all that is most
+authoritative in historical research and arch�ological<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>
+knowledge, are a committee from a recent conference at
+Lambeth, and are proceeding to Jerusalem to investigate
+the alleged discovery in the Holy City."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>This was the prominent announcement, made on the
+afternoon of the third day, which began to quicken interest
+and excite the minds of people in England.</p>
+
+<p>All that evening countless families discussed the information
+with curious unrest and foreboding. In all
+the towns the churches were exceptionally full at evensong.
+One fact was more discussed than any other,
+more particularly in London.</p>
+
+<p>Although the six men who had left England so suddenly,
+almost furtively, were obviously on a mission of
+the highest importance, no reputable paper published
+more than the bare fact of their departure. Comment
+upon it, more detailed explanation of it, was sought in
+the columns of all the journals in vain.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning was big with shadow and gloom.
+A shudder passed over the country. Certain telegrams
+appeared in all the papers which struck a chill of fear to
+the very heart of all who read them, Christian and indifferent
+alike.</p>
+
+<p>It was as though a great and ominous bell had begun
+to toll over the world.</p>
+
+<p>The faces of people in the streets were universally
+pale.</p>
+
+<p>It was remarked that the noises of London, the traffic,
+the movement of crowds engaged upon their daily business,
+lost half their noise.</p>
+
+<p>The shops were full of Christmas gifts, but no one
+seemed to enter them.</p>
+
+<p>In addition to the telegrams a single leading article appeared
+in the <i>Daily Wire</i>, which burnt itself, as the extremest
+cold burns, into the brains of Englishmen.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p>
+<blockquote><p class="pinset3a">
+"(1) TERRIBLE RIOTS IN JERUSALEM</p>
+
+<p>"The French Consul-General and Staff, who were paying
+a ceremonial visit to the Latin Patriarch, have been
+attacked by fanatical Moslems, and only escaped from
+the fury of the crowd with great difficulty, aided by the
+Turkish Guards. A vast concourse of Armenian Christians,
+Russian pilgrims, and Aleppine Greeks afterwards
+gathered round the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The
+strange discovery said to have been made by the English
+excavator, Mr. Hands, and the German Doctor Schm�ulder,
+has aroused the mob to furious protest against it.
+For nearly an hour fervent cries of '<i>Hadda Kuber Saidna</i>,'
+'This is the tomb of our Lord,' filled all the air. The
+Mohammedans and lower-class Jews made a wild attack
+upon the protesting Christians in the courtyard of the
+church. Many hundreds are dead and dying.</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left:10em">
+"<span class="smcap">Reuter.</span>"</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">"<span class="smcap">Later.</span>&mdash;Strong drafts of Turkish troops have
+marched into Jerusalem. By special order from the
+Sultan to the Governor of the city, the 'New Tomb,'
+discovered by Mr. Hands and Doctor Schm�ulder, is
+guarded by a triple cordon of troops. The two gentlemen
+are guests of the Governor. The concentration of
+troops round the 'New Tomb' has left various portions
+of the city unguarded. Naked Mohammedan fanatics,
+armed with swords, are calling for a general massacre of
+Christians. The city is in a state of utter anarchy. By
+the Jaffa gate and round the Mosque of Omar the dervishes
+are preaching massacre."</p></blockquote>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pinset3"><b>
+
+"(2) SIR ROBERT LLWELLYN'S PARTY TO BE CONVEYED IN A WAR-SHIP</b></p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Malta.</span>&mdash;Orders have been received here from the
+Admiralty that the gunboat <i>Velox</i> is to proceed at once<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>
+to Alexandria, there to await the coming of Sir Robert
+Llwellyn and the other members of the English Commission
+by the Indian mail steamer from Brindisi. The
+<i>Velox</i> will then leave at once for Jaffa with the six gentlemen.
+At Jaffa an escort of mounted Turkish troops will
+accompany the party on the day's ride to Jerusalem."</p></blockquote>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pinset3"><b>"(3) <span class="smcap">Berlin.</span></b>&mdash;The German Emperor has convened
+the principal clergy of the empire to meet him in conference
+at Potsdam. The conference will sit with closed
+doors."</p></blockquote>
+
+<blockquote><p class="pinset3"><b>"(4) <span class="smcap">Rome.</span></b>&mdash;A decree, or short letter, has just been
+issued from the Vatican to all the 'Patriarchs, Primates,
+Archbishops, Bishops and other local ordinaries having
+peace and communion with the Holy See.' The decree
+deals with the alleged discoveries in Jerusalem. In it
+Catholics are forbidden to read newspaper accounts of
+the proceedings in Palestine, nor may they discuss them
+with their friends. The decree has had the effect of
+drawing great attention to the affairs in the East, and
+has excited much adverse comment among the secularist
+party, and in the <i>Voce della Populo</i>."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Quite suddenly, as if a curtain were withdrawn, the
+world began to realise the fact that something almost beyond
+imagination was taking place in the far-off Syrian
+town.</p>
+
+<p>These detached and sinister messages which flashed
+along the cables, with their stories of princes and potentates
+alarmed and active, made the general silence, the
+lack of detail, more oppressive. The unknown, or dimly
+guessed at, rather, laid hold on men's minds like some
+mighty convulsion of nature, imminent, and presaged by
+fearful signs. Thus the <i>Daily Wire</i>:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p><blockquote><p>"The story of the recent gathering of great Churchmen
+at Lambeth has not yet been made public, but there
+can be little doubt in the minds of those who watch
+events that it must eventually take a place among the
+great historical occurrences of the world's history.
+While the men and women of England were going to
+and fro about their business, the ecclesiastical princes
+of this realm were met together in doubt, astonishment,
+and fear, confronted with a problem so tremendous that
+we find comment upon it presents almost insuperable
+difficulties.</p>
+
+<p>"We do not therefore propose to take the widest view
+of probable contingencies and events, for that would be
+impossible within the limits of a single article. It must
+be enough that with a sense of the profoundest responsibility,
+and with the deep emotions which must arise in
+the heart of every man who is confronted by a vast and
+sudden overthrow of one of the binding forces of life,
+we briefly recapitulate the events of the last few days,
+and attempt a forecast of what we fear must lie before
+us here in England.</p>
+
+<p>"Four days ago we published in these columns the
+first account of a discovery made by Mr. Cyril Hands,
+M.A., and confirmed by Dr. Herman Schm�ulder, in the
+red earth <i>d�bris</i> by the 'Tombs of the Kings,' beyond
+the Damascus gate of Jerusalem. The news arrived at
+this office through a private channel, in the form of a
+long and detailed account written by Mr. Hands, the
+arch�ologist and agent of the Palestine Exploring Society.
+Before publishing the statement the editor was
+enabled to discuss the advisability of doing so with the
+Prime Minister. A long series of telegrams passed between
+the office of this paper, the Foreign Office, and the
+gentlemen at Jerusalem during the day preceding our
+publication of the document. Hour by hour new details
+and a mass of contributory evidence came to hand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>
+All these papers, together with photographs, drawings,
+and measurements, were placed by us in the hands of the
+Archbishop of Canterbury. A conference of the greatest
+living English scholars was summoned. The result of
+that meeting has been that a committee representing the
+finest intellect and the most unsullied integrity is now on
+its way to Jerusalem. Upon the verdict of Sir Robert
+Llwellyn and his fellow-members, together with the distinguished
+foreign <i>savants</i> M. Clermont-Ganneau and
+Dr. Procopides, the Ephor-General of Antiquities in the
+Athens Museum, the Christian world must wait with terrible
+anxiety, but with a certainty that the highest human
+intelligence is concentrated on its deliberation.</p>
+
+<p>"What that verdict will be, seems, it must be boldly
+said and faced, almost a foregone conclusion. We feel
+that we should be lacking in our duty to our readers
+were we to withhold from them certain facts. Not unnaturally
+His Grace the Archbishop and many of his advisers
+have wished the press to preserve a complete
+silence as to the result of the conference, a silence which
+should continue until the report of the International
+Committee of Investigation is published. We have
+endeavoured to preserve a reticence for two days, but
+at this juncture it becomes our duty to inform the people
+of England what we know. And we do not take this
+step without careful consideration.</p>
+
+<p>"We have informed the Prime Minister of our intention,
+and may state that, despite the opposition of the
+Church Party, Lord &mdash;&mdash; is in sympathy with it.</p>
+
+<p>"Briefly, then, Sir Robert Llwellyn, the acknowledged
+leader of arch�ological research, has given it as his
+opinion that Mr. Hands's discovery must be genuine.
+Sir Robert alone has had the courage to speak out
+bravely, though he did so with manifest emotion and reluctance.
+The other members of the conference have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>
+refused to express an opinion, though of at least three
+from among their number there can be little doubt that
+they concur with Sir Robert's view.</p>
+
+<p>"Private telegrams, which we have hitherto refrained
+from publishing, show that the cultured people of Germany,
+from the Emperor downwards, are persuaded that
+the story of Jesus of Nazareth has at last been told.
+Many of the most eminent public men of France agree
+with this view. These are statements borne out by the
+evidence of our correspondents in foreign capitals who
+have secured a series of interviews with those who represent
+public opinion of the expert kind.</p>
+
+<p>"The Roman Church, on the other hand, with that supreme
+isolation and historic indifference to all that helps
+the cause of Progress and Truth, has not only loftily declined
+to recognise the fact that any discovery has been
+made at all, has not only absolutely declined to be represented
+at Jerusalem, but has issued a proclamation
+forbidding Roman Catholics to think of or discuss the
+events which are shaking the fabric of Christendom.</p>
+
+<p>"In saying as much as we have already said, in placing
+our melancholy conviction on record in this way, we
+lay ourselves open to the charge of prejudging the most
+important decision affecting the welfare of mankind that
+any body of men have ever been called upon to make.
+Not even the startling and overwhelming mass of support
+we have received would have led us to do this were it
+not our conviction that it is the wisest course to pursue
+in regard to what we feel almost certain will happen in
+the future. It seems far better to prepare the minds of
+Christian English men and women for the terrible shock
+that they will have to endure by a more gradual system
+of disclosure than would be possible were we to adopt
+the suggestion of the bishops and keep silent.</p>
+
+<p>"And now, in the concluding portion of this article,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>
+we must briefly consider what the news that it has been
+our responsible and painful duty to give first to the world
+will mean to England.</p>
+
+<p>"We fear that the mental anguish of countless thousands
+must for a time cloud the life of our country as it
+has never been clouded and darkened before. The
+proof that the Divinity of the Greatest and Wisest
+Teacher the world has ever known, or ever will know,
+is but a symbolic fable, will for a time overwhelm the
+world. A great upheaval of English society is beginning.
+Old and venerated institutions will be swept away, minds
+fed upon the Christian theory from youth, instinct with
+all its hereditary tradition, will be for a while as men
+groping in the dark. But the light will come after this
+great tempest, and it will be a broader, finer, more steadfast
+light than before, because founded on, and springing
+from, Eternal Truth. The mission of beneficent
+illusion is over. Error will yet linger for a generation
+or two. That much is certain. There will be more who
+will base their objections to the New Revelation upon
+'the unassailable and ultimate reality of personal
+spiritual experience,' forgetting the psychological influences
+of hereditary training, which have alone produced
+those experiences. But, alas! the knell of the old and
+beautiful superstitions is ringing. The Doom is begun.
+The Judge is set, who shall stay it? Let us rather turn
+from the saddening spectacle of a fallen creed and rejoice
+that the 'Infinite and eternal energy' men have
+called God&mdash;Jah-weh, &#952;&#949;&#959;&#962;&mdash;that mysterious law of Progress
+and evolution, is about to reveal man to himself
+more than ever completely in its destruction of an
+imagined revelation."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>During the afternoon preceding the publication of the
+above article, the three principal proprietors had met at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>
+the offices of the paper and had held a long conference
+with Mr. Ommaney, the editor.</p>
+
+<p>It had been decided, as a matter of policy and in order
+to maintain the leading position already given to the
+paper by the first publication of Hands's dispatch, that
+a strong and definite line should be taken at once.</p>
+
+<p>The other great journals were already showing signs of
+a cautious "trimming" policy, which would allow them
+to take up any necessary attitude events might dictate.
+They feared to be explicit, to speak out. So they would
+lose the greater glory.</p>
+
+<p>Once more commercial and political influences were at
+work, as they had been two thousand years before. The
+little group of Jewish millionaires who sat in Ommaney's
+room had their prototypes in the times of Christ's Passion.
+Men of the modern world were once more enacting
+the awful drama of the Crucifixion.</p>
+
+<p>Constantine Schuabe was among the group; his words
+had more weight than any others. The largest holding
+in the paper was his. The tentacles of this man were
+far-reaching and strong.</p>
+
+<p>"For my part, gentlemen," Ommaney said, "I am
+entirely with Mr. Schuabe. I agree with him that we
+should at once take the boldest possible attitude. Sir
+Robert's opinion before he left was conclusive. We
+shall therefore publish a leader to-morrow taking up our
+standpoint. We will have it quite plain and simple.
+Strong and simple, but with no subtleties to puzzle and
+obscure the ordinary reader. It's no use to touch on
+history or metaphysics, or anything but pure simplicity."</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">"Then, Mr. Ommaney," Schuabe had said, "since
+we are exactly agreed on the best thing to do, and since
+these other gentlemen are prepared to leave the thing in
+our hands, if you will allow me I will write the leading
+article myself."</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIb" id="CHAPTER_VIb">CHAPTER VI</a></h2>
+
+<blockquote><p><b>HARNESS THE HORSES; AND GET UP, YE HORSEMEN,
+AND STAND FORTH WITH YOUR HELMETS;
+FURBISH THE SPEARS, AND PUT ON THE
+BRIGANDINES.&mdash;JER. XLVI: 4</b></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">F</span><span class="smcap">ather Ripon</span> sat alone in his study at the Clergy
+House of St. Mary's. The room was quite silent,
+save for the occasional dropping of a coal upon the
+hearth, where a bright, clear fire glowed.</p>
+
+<p>Three walls of the room were lined with books. There
+was no carpet on the floor; the bare boards showed, except
+for a strip of worn matting in front of the little cheap
+brass fender. Over the mantel a great crucifix hung on
+the bare wall, painted, or rather washed with dark red
+colour.</p>
+
+<p>The few chairs which stood about were all old-fashioned
+and rather uncomfortable. A great writing-table
+was covered with papers and books. Two candles stood
+upon it and gave light to the room. The only other
+piece of furniture was a deal praying-stool, with a Bible
+and prayer-book upon the ledge.</p>
+
+<p>A rugged, ascetic place, four walls to work and pray
+in, with just the necessary tools and no more. Yet there
+was no <i>affectation</i> of asceticism, the effect was not a considered
+one in any way. For example, there was an oar,
+with college arms painted on one blade, leaning against
+the wall, a memory of old days when Father Ripon had
+rowed four and his boat at Oxford had got to the head<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>
+of the river one Eight's week. The oar looked as if it
+were waiting to be properly hung on the wall as a decorative
+trophy, which indeed it was. But it had been
+waiting for seven years. The priest never had time to
+nail it up. He did not despise comfort or decoration,
+pretend to a pose of rigidness; he simply hadn't the
+time for it himself. That was all. He was always
+promising himself to put up&mdash;for example&mdash;a pair of
+crimson curtains a sister had sent him months back.
+But whenever he really determined to get them out and
+hang them, some sudden call came and he had to rush
+out and save a soul.</p>
+
+<p>Father Ripon looked ill and worn. A pamphlet, a
+long, thin book bound in blue paper, with the Royal
+Arms on the top of the folio, lay upon the table. It was
+the report of the Committee of Investigation, and the
+whole world was ringing with it.</p>
+
+<p>The report had now appeared for two days.</p>
+
+<p>The priest took up <i>The Tower</i>, a weekly paper, the
+official organ, not of the pious Evangelical party within
+the Church, but of the ultra-Protestant.</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">His hand shook with anger and disgust as he read, for
+the third time, the leading article printed in large type,
+with wider spaces than usual between the lines:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p1plus">"We have hitherto refrained from any comment on the
+marvellous discovery in Jerusalem, being content simply
+to record the progress of the investigations, which have
+at last satisfied us that a genuine discovery has been
+made.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"In the daily special issues of the organs of the sacerdotal
+party we find much more freedom of expression.
+They have run the whole gamut&mdash;Disbelief, Doubt,
+Desolation, Detraction, Demoralisation, and Dismay.
+Rome and Ritualism have received a shock which demolishes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>
+and destroys the very foundation of their sinful
+system.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"Carnal in its conception it cannot survive.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"'The worship of the corporeal presence of Christ's
+natural flesh and blood' (<i>vide</i> the so-called <i>Black</i> rubric
+at the end of the order of the administration of the
+Lord's Supper) was always prohibited in the Protestant
+Reformed Communion, but this idolatrous practice has
+been the glory and boast of Babylon, and the aim and
+object of the Traitors, within the Established Church of
+England, whom we have habitually denounced.'</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"'The times of this ignorance God winked at, but
+now commandeth all men everywhere to repent.'</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"Hidden by the Divine Providence till the fulness of
+time, a simple inscription has taught us the full meaning
+of Paul's mysterious words, 'Yea, though we have known
+Christ after the flesh, yet now henceforth know we Him
+no more.'&mdash;2 Cor. v. 16.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"Paul and Protestantism are vindicated at last.
+'There is a natural body and there is a spiritual body.'
+The spiritual body that manifested the resurrection of
+Jesus to His disciples has too long been identified with
+the natural body that was piously laid to rest by Joseph
+and Nicodemus. Much that has been obscure in the
+Gospel narratives is now explained.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"Men have always wondered that the Apostles, in
+preaching their risen Lord, attempted no explanation of
+His manifestations of Himself.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"We can understand now why it was that they were
+divinely protected from imagining that the spiritual Body
+is a dead body revived.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"How often have perplexed believers been troubled
+by the questions of our modern scientists as to the physical
+possibilities of a future resurrection of the body!
+The material substance of humanity is resolved into its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>
+elements, and again and again through the centuries is
+employed in other organisms.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"'How then,' men have asked, 'can you believe that
+the body you have deposited beneath the earth shall
+collect from the universe its dissipated particles and rise
+again?'</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"Hitherto we have been content to put the question
+aside with a simple faith that 'with God all things are
+possible.' But to-day we are enabled to have a further
+comprehension of the Lord's words, 'It is the spirit that
+quickeneth, the flesh profiteth nothing.'</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"Doubtless those who, even among our own company
+of Evangelical Protestants, have attached too much importance
+to the teaching of the so-called 'Fathers of the
+Church' (who so early corrupted the sweet simplicity of
+the Gospel) will find themselves compelled to a more
+spiritual explanation of some passages of Holy Scripture;
+but Faith will find little difficulty in rightly dividing and
+interpreting the word of Truth.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"The Protestant cause has little to fear from facts.
+We have been by God's Providence gradually prepared
+for a great elucidation of the truth about the
+Resurrection.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"Those who studied with attention the treatise of the
+late Frederick W. H. Myers (the man who, of all moderns,
+has best appreciated the personality of Paul the
+apostle) had come to a conviction on the survival of
+Human Personality after death on scientific grounds.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"The Resurrection of the Lord Jesus was no longer to
+them 'a thing incredible,' its unique character was recognised
+as consisting in its spiritual power.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"'Some doubted,' as on the mountain in Galilee.
+Protestantism on the Continent, especially in Germany,
+the home of what is misnamed the 'Higher Criticism,'
+has been hampered in this way by the study of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>
+'letter,' and so in some degree has lost the assistance of
+'the spirit which giveth life.'</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"But the great heart of Protestant England is still
+sound, and whilst Rome and Ritualism are aghast as
+the foundation of their fabric of lies crumbles into dust,
+we stand sure and steadfast, rejoicing in hope.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"Some readjustment of formularies may be conceded
+to weak brethren.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"Our great Reformers drew up that marvellous manifesto
+of the Protestant faith&mdash;'Articles agreed upon by
+the archbishops and bishops of Both Provinces, and the
+whole clergy in the Convocation holden at London
+in the year 1562 for the avoiding of diversities of opinions,
+and for the establishing of consent touching True
+Religion.'</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"England was at that time&mdash;alas, how often has it
+been so!&mdash;inclined to compromise.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"There were timid men amongst the great divines
+who brought us out of Babylon, and the 4th article of
+the Thirty-nine was notoriously drawn up in antagonism
+to the teaching of the holy Silesian nobleman, Caspar
+Schwenckfeld, to satisfy the scruples of the sacerdotal
+party, which clung to the benefices of the Establishment
+then as now.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"The omission of twelve words would remove all
+doubt as to its interpretation. We may be content to
+affirm that 'Christ did truly rise again from death'
+without stating further 'and took again his body with
+flesh, bones, and all things appertaining.'</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"It has always been the curse of Christendom that
+man desired to express in words the ineffable.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"'Intruding into those things which he hath not seen,
+vainly puffed up by his fleshly mind.'</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"But it need not now be difficult with the aid of a
+Protestant Parliament, which has so recently and so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>
+gloriously determined on the expulsion of sacerdotalists,
+to modify, in deference to pious scruples, too rigid definitions.
+Time will suffice for these necessary modifications
+of sixteenth-century theology.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"In the present, the gain is ours. We shall hear less
+of the cultus of the 'Sacred Heart' in future. The
+blasphemous mimicry of the Mass will perish from
+amongst us.</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"No man, in England at least, will dare to affirm that
+the flesh in which the Saviour bore our sins upon the
+Cross is exposed for adoration on the so-called 'altar.'</p>
+
+<p class="p1plus">"As Matthew Arnold put it, on the true grave of Jesus
+'the Syrian stars look down,' but the risen Christ, glorious
+in His <i>Spiritual</i> Body, reigns over the hearts of his
+true followers, and we look forward in faith to our departure
+from the earthly tabernacle, which is dissolved
+day by day, knowing that we also have a spiritual house
+not made with hands eternal in the heavens."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p2">As he read the clever trimming article and marked the
+bitterness of its tone, the priest's face grew red with
+anger and contempt.</p>
+
+<p>This facile acceptance of the Great Horror, this insolent
+conversion of it to party ends, this flimsy pretence
+of reconciling statements, which, if true, made Christianity
+a thing of nought, to a novel and trumped-up system
+of adherence to it, filled him with bitter antagonism.</p>
+
+<p>But, useful as the article was as showing the turn many
+men's minds were taking, there was no time to trouble
+about it now.</p>
+
+<p>To-morrow the great meeting of those who still believed
+Christ died and rose again from the dead was to
+be held.</p>
+
+<p>The terrible "Report" had been issued. During the
+forty hours of its existence everything was already beginning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>
+to crumble away. To-morrow the Church Militant
+must speak to the world.</p>
+
+<p>It was said, moreover, that the great wave of infidelity
+and mockery which was sweeping hourly over the country
+would culminate in a great riot to-morrow....</p>
+
+<p>Everything seemed dark, black, hopeless....</p>
+
+<p>He picked up the Report once more to study it, as he
+had done fifty times that day.</p>
+
+<p>But before he opened it he knelt in prayer.</p>
+
+<p>As he prayed, so sweet and certain an assurance came
+to him, he seemed so very near to the Lord, that doubt
+and gloom fled before that Presence.</p>
+
+<p>What were logic, proofs of stone-work, the reports of
+arch�ologists, to This?</p>
+
+<p>Here in this lonely chamber Christ was, and spoke
+with His servant, bidding him be of good comfort.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">With bright eyes, full of the glow of one who walks
+with God, the priest opened the pamphlet once more.</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIIb" id="CHAPTER_VIIb">CHAPTER VII</a></h2>
+
+<h4>THE HOUR OF CHAOS</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">A</span><span class="smcap">lthough</span>, during the first days of the Darkness,
+hundreds of thousands of Christian men and
+women were chilled almost to spiritual death, and although
+the lamp of Faith was flickering very low, it was
+not in London that the far-reaching effects of the discovery
+at Jerusalem were most immediately apparent.</p>
+
+<p>In that great City there is an outward indifference,
+bred of a million different interests, which has something
+akin to the supreme indifference of Nature. The many
+voices never blend into one, so that the ear may hear
+them in a single mighty shout.</p>
+
+<p>But in the grimmer North public opinion is heard more
+readily, and is more quickly visible. In the great centres
+of executive toil the vital truths of religion seem to
+enter more insistently into the lives of men and women
+whose environment presents them with fewer distractions
+than elsewhere. Often, indeed, this interest is a political
+interest rather than a deeply Christian one, a matter
+of controversy rather than feeling. Certain it is that all
+questions affecting religious beliefs loom large and have
+a real importance in the cities of the North.</p>
+
+<p>It was Wednesday evening at Walktown.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Byars was reading the service. The huge, ugly
+church was lit with rows of gas-jets, arranged in coron�
+painted a drab green. But the priest's voice, strained
+and worn, echoed sadly and with a melancholy cadence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>
+through the great barn-like place. Two or three girls, a
+couple of men, and half a dozen boys made up the choir,
+which had dwindled to less than a fifth of its usual size.
+The organ was silent.</p>
+
+<p>Right down the church, those in the chancel saw row
+upon row of cushioned empty seats. Here and there a
+small group of people broke the chilling monotony of
+line, but the worshippers were very few. In the galleries
+an occasional couple, almost secure from observation,
+whispered to each other. The church was warm, the
+seats not uncomfortable; it was better to flirt here than
+in the cold, frost-bound streets.</p>
+
+<p>Never had Evensong been so cheerless and gloomy,
+even in that vast, unlovely building. There was no
+sermon. The vicar was suffering under such obvious
+strain, he looked so worn and ill, that even this lifeless
+congregation seemed to feel it a relief when the Blessing
+was said and it was free to shuffle out into the promenade
+of the streets.</p>
+
+<p>The harsh trumpeting of Mr. Philemon, the vestry
+clerk's final "Amen," was almost jubilant.</p>
+
+<p>As Mr. Byars walked home he saw that the three great
+Unitarian chapels which he had to pass <i>en route</i> were
+blazing with light. Policemen were standing at the
+doors to prevent the entrance of any more people into
+the overcrowded buildings. A tremendous life and energy
+pulsated within these buildings. Glancing back,
+with a bitter sigh, the vicar saw that the lights in St.
+Thomas were already extinguished, and the tower, in
+which the illuminated clock glowed sullenly, rose stark
+and cold into the dark winter sky.</p>
+
+<p>The last chapel of all, the Pembroke Road Chapel,
+had a row of finely appointed carriages waiting outside
+the doors. The horses were covered with cloths, the
+grooms and coachmen wore furs, and the breaths of men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
+and beasts alike poured out in streams of blue vapour.
+These men stamped up and down the gravel sweep in
+front of the chapel and swung their arms in order to
+keep warm.</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">On each side of the great polished mahogany doors
+were large placards, printed in black and red, vividly
+illuminated by electric arc lights. These announced
+that on that night Mr. Constantine Schuabe, M.P.,
+would lecture on the recent discovery in Jerusalem.
+The title of the lecture, in staring black type, seemed to
+Mr. Byars as if it possessed an almost physical power.
+It struck him like a blow.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><b>
+THE DOWNFALL OF CHRISTIANITY</b><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>And then in smaller type,</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<span class="smcap">Anthropomorphism an Exploded Superstition</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="p2">He walked on more hurriedly through the dark.</p>
+
+<p>All over the district the Church seemed tottering.
+The strong forces of Unitarianism and Judaism, always
+active enemies of the Church, were enjoying a moment
+of unexampled triumph. Led by nearly all the wealthy
+families in Walktown, all the Dissenters and many
+lukewarm Church people were crowding to these same
+synagogues. At the very height of these perversions,
+when Christianity was forsworn and derided on all
+sides, Schuabe had returned to Mount Prospect from
+London.</p>
+
+<p>His long-sustained position as head of the antichristian
+party in Parliament, in England indeed, his political
+connection with the place, his wealth, the ties of family
+and relationship, all combined to make him the greatest
+power of the moment in the North.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>His speeches, of enormous power and force, were delivered
+daily and reported <i>verbatim</i> in all the newspapers.
+He became the Marlborough of a campaign.</p>
+
+<p>On every side the churches were almost deserted.
+Day by day ominous political murmurs were heard in
+street and factory. The time had come, men were saying,
+when an established priesthood and Church must
+be forced to relinquish its emoluments and position. The
+Bishop of Manchester, as he rolled through the streets
+in his carriage, leaning back upon the cushions, lost in
+thought, with his pipe between his lips, according to the
+wont and custom which had almost created a scandal in
+the neighbourhood, was hissed and hooted as he went on
+his way.</p>
+
+<p>With a sickness of heart, an utter weariness that was
+almost physical nausea, the vicar let himself into his
+house with a latch-key.</p>
+
+<p>There was a hushed, subdued air over the warm, comfortable
+house, felt quite certainly, though not easy to
+define. It was as though one lay dead in an upper
+chamber.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Byars turned into his study. Helena rose to
+meet him. The beautiful, calm face was very pale and
+worn as if by long vigils. Minute lines of care had crept
+round the eyes, though the eyes themselves were as calm
+and steadfast as of old.</p>
+
+<p>"Basil feels much stronger to-night, Father," she said.
+"He is dressing now, and will come down to supper.
+He wishes to have a long talk with you, he says."</p>
+
+<p>For two weeks Gortre had lain prostrate in the house
+of his future father-in-law.</p>
+
+<p>It was as though he had watched the waters gradually
+rising round him until at last he was submerged in a
+merciful unconsciousness. The doctor said that he was
+enduring a very slight attack of brain-fever, but one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>
+which need cause no one any alarm, and which was, in
+fact, nothing at all in comparison to his former illness.</p>
+
+<p>His fine physical strength asserted itself and helped
+him to an easy <i>bodily</i> recovery.</p>
+
+<p>To Basil himself, with returning health and a clearer
+brain came a renewal of mental power. A great strain
+was removed, the strain of waiting and watching, the
+tension of a sick anticipation.</p>
+
+<p>"It was almost as if I was conscious of this terrible
+thing that has happened," he said to Helena. "I am
+sure that I felt it coming instinctively in some curious
+psychic way. But now that we know the worst, I am my
+own man again. Soon, dear, I shall be up and about
+again, ready to fight against this blackness, to take my
+place in the ranks once more."</p>
+
+<p>To her loving solicitude he seemed to have some definite
+plan or purpose, but when she questioned him his
+reserve was impenetrable, even to her.</p>
+
+<p>During the days of darkness Helena's lot was hard,
+her heart heavy. While Mr. Byars was at least active,
+militant, she must eat her heart out in sorrow at home.
+The doctor had forbidden any talk on those subjects
+which were agitating the world, between her and Basil.
+She was denied that consolation. So while her father
+was attending the conferences at the Bishop's palace,
+speaking at meetings, visiting the sick with passionate,
+and, alas, how often useless! assurance that the Truth
+would prevail and the Light of the World once more
+shine out undimmed, she must live and pray alone.</p>
+
+<p>Helena's faith had never weakened. All through the
+trying days and nights it had burned steadily, clear, and
+pure. But all around her she saw the enemies of Christ
+prevailing. Nor was it with the slow movement of ordinary
+secularism, but with a great shout of triumph and
+exultation which resounded through the world. Men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>
+were deserting their posts, the Church she loved seemed
+tottering, a horrid confusion and anarchy was everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>And all that she could do was to pray. But as the girl
+moved about her simple household duties, as she tended
+the sick man with an almost wifely care, her prayers
+went on unceasingly and every action was interwoven
+with supplication.</p>
+
+<p>Pale, subdued, but with a quiet clearness and resolution
+in his eye, Basil came down to the meal. There
+was but little conversation during it. Afterwards, Helena
+went to her own room, knowing that her father and
+Gortre wished to be left alone.</p>
+
+<p>In the study the two men sat on either side of the fireplace.
+Basil wore a long dressing-gown of camel's-hair.
+He would not smoke, the doctor had forbidden it, but
+Mr. Byars lit his pipe with a sigh of satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"To think, Basil," the older man said in a broken
+voice, "to think that Christmas is upon us now! It's
+the vigil of Christmas, and never since our Lord's Passion
+has the world been in such a state. And worse than
+all is our utter impotence!" His voice grew almost
+angry. "We <i>know</i>, know as surely as we know anything,
+that this terrible business is some stupendous mistake or
+fraud. But there isn't the slightest possibility of any
+one listening to us. On one side the weightiest expert
+proof, on the other nothing but a conviction to oppose to
+what appear to be the hardest facts. I cannot blame
+any non-Christian for acquiescing in this discovery.
+Viewing the thing clearly and without prejudice, I can't
+blame any one. It is only the smallest minority, even of
+professing Christians, whose faith is strong enough to
+keep them from an utter denial of our Lord's Divinity.
+It is simply a matter of long personal experience that
+gives you and me and Helena our confidence in this utter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>
+darkness. But in comparison to the rest of the world,
+how many have that confidence?"</p>
+
+<p>He put down his pipe on the table and rested his head
+in his outstretched hands, a grey and venerable head.
+"It's awful, Basil," he said in a broken voice, and
+with his eyes full of tears. "In my old age I have seen
+this. I wish that I had gone with my dear wife. 'Help,
+Lord; for the godly man ceaseth; for the faithful fail
+from among the children of men.' But what is so bitter
+to me, my dear boy, is the sight of the utter overthrow
+of Faith. It all shows how terribly weak the
+majority of Christians are. Surface and symbol! symbol
+and surface!"</p>
+
+<p>"It will not last long," said Gortre, gravely. "For
+my part, Father, I think that this terrible trial is allowed
+and permitted by God to bring about a great and future
+triumph for His Son, which will marshal, organise, and
+consolidate Faith as nothing has ever done before. I am
+convinced of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it must be that," answered the vicar; "undoubtedly
+that is God's purpose. But I would that the
+light might come in my time. And I fear I shall not live
+to see it. I'm an old man now, Basil; this has aged
+me very much, and I shall not live much longer. It is
+God's will, but it is hard to know that one will die seeing
+Christ dethroned in the hearts of men, the Cross broken."</p>
+
+<p>"While I have been quietly up-stairs," said Gortre,
+"many strange thoughts have come to me, of which I
+want to speak to you to-night. I have things to tell you
+which I have mentioned to no one as yet. But before I
+go into these matters&mdash;very dark and terrible ones, I fear&mdash;I
+want you to give me a <i>r�sum�</i> of the position of
+things as they are now. The present state is not clear
+in my mind. I have not read many of the papers, and
+I want a sort of bird's-eye view of what is going on."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"The position at present," said Mr. Byars, "from our
+point of view, is a kind of anarchy. Within every denomination
+those who absolutely refuse to credit the
+truth of the discovery are in the minority. Abroad, in
+France especially, wild free-thought of the rabid Tom
+Paine order has broken out everywhere in a kind of
+hysterical rage against Christianity. The immediate
+social result has been an appalling increase in crimes of
+lust and cruelty. Great alarm is felt by the authorities.
+All the papers are taking a horribly cynical view. They
+say that the delusion of Christianity has clouded men's
+brains for so long that they are now incapable of bearing
+the truth, and that the best way to govern the State is to
+go on making believe. On the other hand, the vast majority
+of Roman Catholics, both abroad and in England,
+have remained utterly uninfluenced. It is one of the
+most marvellous triumphs of discipline and order that
+history has ever witnessed. The Pope forbade the
+slightest notice of the discovery to be taken by priests or
+people in the first instance. Then, when the Report of
+the Committee was issued, with only one dissentient
+voice&mdash;Sir Michael Manichoe's&mdash;a Papal Bull was issued.
+Here it is, translated in <i>The Tablet</i>, magnificent in its
+brevity and serenity."</p>
+
+<p>He took a paper from the table beside him and began
+to read:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="center">"VENERABLE BRETHREN,&mdash;HEALTH AND
+APOSTOLIC BENEDICTION</p>
+
+<p>"It has seemed good to Us to address you on certain
+points dealing with the decay of faith in divine things,
+which is the effect of pride and moral corruption. And
+this is the natural result of pride; for when this vice has
+taken possession of the heart it is inevitable that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>
+Christian Faith, which demands a most willing docility,
+should languish, and that a murky darkness in regard to
+divine truths should close upon the mind, so that in the
+case of many these words should be made good, 'whatever
+things they know not they blaspheme' (St. Jude).
+We, however, so far from being hereby turned aside
+from the design which We have taken in hand, are, on
+the contrary, determined all the more zealously and
+diligently to guide the well-disposed, so that they may be
+saved from the perils of secular unbelief.</p>
+
+<p>"And, with the help of the united prayers of the
+faithful, We earnestly implore forgiveness for those who
+speak evil of holy things.</p>
+
+<p>"And inasmuch as certain persons not being members
+of the Holy Catholic Church have in an extremity
+of criminal madness laid claim to discoveries which are
+pretended and put forth as affecting the eternal Truths
+of the Faith, We command you, Venerable Brethren,
+that it shall be stated in all the churches such pretences
+are void of truth and utterly abominable. The enemies
+of Christ cry out, 'We will not have this man to reign
+over us' (Luke xix. 14), and make themselves loudly
+heard with the utterance of that wicked purpose, 'Let
+us make away with Him.'</p>
+
+<p>"We therefore charge all Christians having peace
+and communion with the Holy Church that they shall
+give no ear or countenance to these onslaughts upon the
+Faith. It is forbidden for them to speak of these things
+among themselves, or to listen to others concerning
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"With these injunctions, Venerable Brethren, We, as
+a presage of the divine liberality, and as a pledge of our
+own charity, most lovingly bestow on each of you, and
+on the clergy and flock committed to the care of each,
+our Apostolic Benediction."</p></blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That is the gist of it," said Mr. Byars, "though I
+have missed out a few paragraphs. The result has been
+that, with a few exceptions, the whole army of Romanists,
+so to speak, have closed ranks and utterly refused to
+listen to what is going on."</p>
+
+<p>"It's very fine, very fine indeed, as a spectacle,"
+Gortre answered. "I wish we had something like that
+unity and discipline. But is that submission, possibly
+without the fire of an inward conviction, worth very
+much? I doubt it."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not for us to judge," answered the vicar. "But
+the result has been that the Catholic Church, both here
+and on the Continent, is undergoing a storm of persecution
+and popular hatred. There have been fearful fights
+in Liverpool, and riots between the Irish dock-labourers
+and a mob of people who called themselves Protestants
+last year and 'Rationalists' to-day.</p>
+
+<p>"The attitude of the Low Church party is varied.
+Many of them are openly deserting to Unitarianism.
+Others have accepted the discovery as being a true one,
+and evolved an entirely new theory from it, while using
+it as a party weapon also. This attitude is reflected in
+<i>The Tower</i> in an article which says that, though the
+actual body of Christ is now proved never to have risen
+from the dead, the <i>spiritual</i> body was what the Disciples
+saw. It is a clever piece of work, which has attracted
+an immense number of people, and is directed entirely
+against the Holy Eucharist.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> The Moderate and High
+Church parties are in some ways in a worse position than
+any other. They find themselves unable to compromise.
+"At the great meeting in the Albert Hall the other
+day, which ended up in something like a free fight, all
+the conclusion the majority of the clergy could come to
+was that it was utterly impossible to accept the discovery
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>
+and remain Christian. The result everywhere is chaos;
+men are resigning their livings, there have been several
+suicides&mdash;isn't it horrible to think of?&mdash;congregations
+are dwindling everywhere, and disestablishment seems a
+certainty in a very short time. The papers are full of
+nothing else, of course. We are fighting tooth and nail
+upon the standpoint of personal spiritual experience,
+which nothing can alter, but in a material way how little
+that helps! The Methodists and Wesleyans are more
+successful than any one. They are holding revival meetings
+all over the country. Very few of these two bodies
+have joined the infidel ranks. Dissent has always implied
+an act of choice, which, at any rate, means a man
+is not indifferent to the whole thing. I suppose that is
+why the Wesleyans seem to be making a firmer and more
+spiritual stand than any of us. To my shame I say it,
+but the Churchmen of England are not bearing witness
+as these others are."</p>
+
+<p>"And the Bishops?"</p>
+
+<p>"Most of them don't know what to do. Of course,
+the great leaders of spiritual thought, W&mdash;&mdash;, for instance,
+and G&mdash;&mdash;, have written that which has brought
+comfort and conviction to hundreds. But see the horror
+of the position. The only way in which this awful thing
+can be combated is by just the methods which only
+scholars and cultivated people can understand. How
+are people who read the hard, material, logical speeches
+of people like Schuabe, or that abominable woman, Mrs.
+Hubert Armstrong, going to be convinced by the subtleties
+of the intellect or by the reiteration of a personal
+conviction which they cannot share? Then the Court
+party, the Archbishop, Walke, and all those, are leaning
+more and more towards the 'spiritual' body theory,
+though they hesitate to commit themselves as yet. It is
+all to be shelved until Convocation meets. They want
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>
+to see how things will go in Parliament. The Erastian
+spirit is rampant. They are nearly all afraid of any ecclesiastical
+action. They are following the lead of Germany
+under the Kaiser."</p>
+
+<p>"It is all very terrible to see how much less Christianity
+means to mankind than earnest Christians believed," said
+Gortre, sadly. "To see the edifice tumbling round one
+like a house of paper when one thought it so secure and
+strong. What a terrible lesson this will be in the future
+to every one; what frightful shame and humiliation will
+come to those who have denied their Lord when this is
+over!"</p>
+
+<p>"When will that be, Basil?" said the vicar, wearily.
+"It seems as if the real hour of test were at hand, and
+that now, finally and for ever, God means to separate the
+true believers from the rest. I have thought that all this
+may be but a prelude to the Last Day of all, and that
+Christ's Second Coming is very near. But what I <i>cannot</i>
+understand, what is utterly beyond the power of any of
+us to appreciate, is what this all <i>means</i>. How can this
+new tomb have been discovered after all these years?
+Can all these great experts have been deceived? There
+have been historical forgeries before, but surely this cannot
+be one. And yet, I <i>know</i>, you <i>know</i>, that our Lord
+rose from the dead."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe that to me, of all men in England, The
+Hand of God has given the key to the mystery," said
+Gortre.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Byars started and looked uneasily at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Basil," he said, "I have been thoughtless. We've
+talked too long. You are not quite clear as to what you
+are saying. Let us read compline together and go to
+bed."</p>
+
+<p>He watched Basil as he spoke, but before he had finished
+his sentence he saw something in the young man's
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>
+face which sent the blood leaping and tearing through
+his veins.</p>
+
+<p>In a sudden, utterly unreasoning way, he saw a truth,
+a certain knowledge, in Gortre's eyes which flooded his
+whole heart and soul with exaltation and joy.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">His good and almost saintly face looked as John's
+might have looked when, after the octave of the Resurrection
+Day, the eight heavy-hearted men were once
+more returning to the daily round and common task, and
+saw the Lord upon the shore.</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIIIb" id="CHAPTER_VIIIb">CHAPTER VIII</a></h2>
+
+<h4>THE FIRST LINKS</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">"I</span><span class="smcap">have</span> been piecing things together gradually, as I
+lay silent up-stairs," said Gortre, drawing his chair
+a little closer to the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"Slowly, little by little, I have added link and link to
+a chain of circumstantial evidence which has led me to
+an almost incredible conclusion. When you have heard
+what I have to say you will realise two things. One is
+that there are depths of human wickedness so abysmal
+and awful that the mind can hardly conceive of them.
+The other is that, for what reason it is not for us to try
+and divine, I have been led, by a most extraordinary
+series of events and coincidences, to something very near
+the truth about the discovery in Jerusalem. My story
+begins some months ago, on the night before I was struck
+down with brain-fever. You will remember that Constantine
+Schuabe"&mdash;he spoke the name with a shudder
+of horror that instinctively communicated itself to Mr.
+Byars&mdash;"that Schuabe called here on that night about
+the school scholarships. When I went away, I left the
+house with him. He invited me to go on to Mount
+Prospect and I did so. Earlier in the evening we had
+been talking of the antichrist and I had said to you
+that I saw in Schuabe a modern type of the old medi�val
+idea. My mind was peculiarly sensitive on these points
+that night, awake, alert, and inquiring. When Schuabe
+invited me to his house, something impelled me to go,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>
+something outside of myself. I went, feeling that I was
+on the threshold of some discovery."</p>
+
+<p>He paused for a moment, white and tired with the intensity
+of his narrative.</p>
+
+<p>"When we got to Schuabe's house we began upon the
+controversial points which we had carefully avoided here.
+At first our talk was quite quiet, mere argument between
+two people having different points of view on religion.
+He went out to get some supper&mdash;the servants were all
+in bed. While he was gone, again I felt the strange assurance
+of something by me directing my actions. I
+felt a sense of direct spiritual protection. I went to the
+bookshelf and took down a Bible. I opened it, half
+ashamed of myself for the tinge of superstition, and my
+eyes fell upon the text:</p>
+
+<p class="center">"'<span class="smcap">WATCH AND PRAY</span>.'</p>
+
+<p>"I could not help taking it as a direct message.
+Schuabe came back. Gradually, as I saw his bitter
+hatred and contempt for our Lord and the Christian
+Church becoming revealed, I was uplifted to rebuke
+him. He had dropped the veil of an <i>intellectual</i>
+disagreement. Some power was given to me to see
+far into the man's soul. He knew that also, and all
+pretence between us was utterly swept away. Then
+I told him that his hate was real and active, that I
+saw him as he was. And these were the words in
+which he answered me, standing like Lucifer before
+me. For months they have haunted me. They are
+burnt in upon my brain for all time. '<i>I tell you, paid
+priest as you are, a blind man leading the blind, that a day
+is coming when all your boasted fabric of Christianity will
+disappear. It will go suddenly and be swept utterly away.
+And you, you shall see it. You shall be left naked of your
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>
+Faith, stripped and bare, with all Christendom beside you.
+Your pale Nazarene shall die among the bitter laughter of
+the world, die as surely as he died two thousand years ago,
+and no man nor woman shall resurrect him. You know
+nothing, but you will remember my words of to-night, until
+you also become as nothing and endure the inevitable fate of
+mankind!</i>'"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Byars started. As yet he realised nothing of
+where Basil's story was to lead. "A prophecy!" he
+cried. "It is as if he were gifted to know the future.
+Something of what he said has already come to pass."</p>
+
+<p>"My story is a long one, Father," said Gortre, "and
+as yet it is only begun. You will see plainer soon.
+Well, as he said these words I knew with certainty that
+this man was <i>afraid of God</i>. I saw his awful secret in
+his eyes, this man, antichrist indeed, <i>believes in our
+Lord</i>, and in terrible presumption dares to lift his hand
+against Him. Little more of importance happened upon
+that night. The next day, as you know, I fell ill and was
+so for some weeks. When I recovered and remembered
+perfectly all that had happened&mdash;do you remember how
+the picture of Christ fell and broke when Schuabe came?&mdash;I
+saw that I must keep all these things locked within my
+own brain. What could I do or say more than that I, a
+fanatical curate&mdash;that is what people would have said&mdash;had
+had a row with the famous agnostic millionaire and
+politician? I could not hope to explain to any one the
+reality of that evening, the certain knowledge I had of
+its being only a prelude to some horror that I could
+not foresee or name. So I kept my own counsel.
+Perhaps you may remember that on the night of the
+tea-party when I said good-bye to the people I urged
+them to keep fast hold on faith, made a special point of
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>Again Mr. Byars showed his intense interest by a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>
+sudden movement of the muscles of his face. But he
+did not speak, and Gortre continued:</p>
+
+<p>"Now we come to Dieppe when we were all there together.
+You will, of course, remember how Spence introduced
+us to Sir Robert Llwellyn, and how we talked
+over dinner at the <i>Pannier d'Or</i>. Since then, we must
+remember, Sir Robert's evidence in favour of the absolute
+authenticity of Hands's discovery has had more
+weight with the world than that of any one else. He is,
+of course, known to be the greatest living expert. And
+that fact also has a very important bearing on my story.
+After dinner, the conversation turned upon discoveries
+in exactly the direction that the recent discovery <i>has</i>
+been made. Llwellyn expressed himself as believing
+that&mdash;I think I remember something like his actual words&mdash;'We
+are on the eve of stupendous discoveries in this
+direction.' None of us liked to pursue the discussion
+further. There was a little pause."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes!" said the vicar, "I remember it perfectly now;
+it all comes back to me quite vividly. But do you know
+that, beyond of course remembering that we were introduced
+to Sir Robert at Dieppe, the subject of our conversation
+had almost escaped my memory. Certainly I
+never thought of it in detail. But go on, Basil."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, Sir Robert drew a plan of the walls of
+Jerusalem on the back of a letter which he took from his
+pocket. As he turned the letter over I could not help
+seeing whom it was from. I read the signature quite distinctly,
+'Constantine Schuabe.' This brings us up to a
+curious fact. Two eminent men, one antichristian, the
+other a famous arch�ologist, both express an opinion in
+my hearing. The first says openly that something is
+about to occur that will destroy faith in Christ, the other
+hints only at some wonderful impending discovery in the
+Holy Land. The connection between the two statements,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>
+startling enough in any case, becomes still more
+so when it is discovered that these two eminent people
+are in correspondence one with the other. And there is
+more than this even. Two days after that dinner I was
+taking a stroll down by the quays when I saw Sir Robert
+and Mr. Schuabe, who had just landed from the Newhaven
+boat, get into the Paris train together."</p>
+
+<p>A sudden short exclamation came from the chair on
+the opposite side of the fire. Very dimly and vaguely
+the vicar was beginning to see where Basil's story was
+tending. The fire had grown low, and Mr. Byars replenished
+it. The noise of the falling coals accentuated
+the tension which filled the quiet room like a gas.</p>
+
+<p>Then Gortre's tired, but even and deliberate, voice
+continued:</p>
+
+<p>"I will here ask you to consider one or two other
+points. Professor Llwellyn told us that he had a year's
+leave from the British Museum owing to ill health. So
+long a rest presupposes a real illness, does it not? Now,
+of course, one can never be sure of anything of this sort,
+but it is, at least, curious and worthy of remark that Sir
+Robert seemed outwardly in perfect health and with a
+hearty appetite. He also said that he was <i>en route</i> for
+Alexandria. Well, Alexandria is the nearest port to
+Jaffa, which is but one day's ride from Jerusalem. Now
+comes a still more curious part of my story. As I have
+told you, our parish in Bloomsbury is one in which a
+great class of undesirable people have made their home.
+It cannot be denied that it is a centre of some peculiarly
+shameless vice. Much of the work of the clergy lies
+among women of a certain class, and great tact and resolution
+is needed to deal with such problems as these
+people present. Some months ago a woman, whose face
+seemed in some vague way familiar to me, began to come
+to church. Once or twice she seemed to show an inclination
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>
+to speak to me or my colleagues after the service,
+but she never actually did so. Eventually she called
+on Ripon, and confessed her way of life. Her repentance
+seemed sincere, and she was anxious to turn over a
+new leaf. It appeared that the girl was a rather well-known
+dancer at one of the burlesque theatres, and I
+must have seen her portrait on the hoardings and advertisements
+of these places. She had been touched by
+something in one of my sermons, it seems, and Ripon
+requested me to go and see her. I did so, in the flat
+where she lived, and we had a chat. The poor thing
+was suffering from an internal disease, and had only a
+year or two to live. She seemed a kindly, sensible creature
+enough, vulgar and pleasure-loving, but without any
+very great wickedness about her, despite her wretched
+life. She wanted to get right away, to bury herself in
+the country, and live a pure and quiet life until she
+died. The great difficulty in the way was the man
+whose mistress she was, and of whom she seemed in considerable
+fear. I explained to her that, with the help of
+Father Ripon and myself, no harm should come to her
+from him, and that her quiet disappearance from the
+scenes of her past life could be very easily managed.
+Then it came out that the man in whose power she was
+was none other than Sir Robert Llwellyn. <i>She told me
+that he had been for some time in Palestine.</i> She was expecting
+him back every day. While we were talking Sir
+Robert actually entered the room, fresh from his journey.
+We had a fearful row, of course, and he would not go
+until I threatened to use force, and then only because
+he was afraid of the scandal. But before he went he
+seemed filled with a sort of coarse triumph even in a
+moment of what must have been great discomfiture for
+him. I had to explain what had happened to him. I
+told him frankly that Miss Hunt&mdash;that was the woman's
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>
+name&mdash;was, by the grace of the Holy Spirit, about to
+lead a new and different life. Then this sort of triumph
+burst forth. He said that in a short time meddling
+priests would lose all their power over the minds of
+others. He said that Christ, 'the pale dreamer of the
+East,' should be revealed to all men at last. He quoted
+the verse about the grave from Matthew Arnold. And
+it was all done with a great confidence and certainty."</p>
+
+<p>He stopped, worn out, and glanced inquiringly at Mr.
+Byars.</p>
+
+<p>The vicar was evidently much moved and excited by
+the narrative. "The most curious point of all," he said,
+"in what you tell me is the fact of Sir Robert's <i>private</i>
+and <i>secret</i> visit to Palestine some months before the discovery
+was made. Such a recent visit is entirely unknown
+to the public, who have been so busy with his
+name of late. The newspapers have said nothing of it.
+Otherwise, I see no reason why, in some way or other,
+Mr. Schuabe and Sir Robert may not have known of
+this tomb in some way before it was discovered by
+Hands, and their hintings of a catastrophe to faith may
+have simply been because of this knowledge which they
+were unwilling to publish."</p>
+
+<p>Gortre shook his head. "No, it is not that," he said.
+"It is not that. They would never have kept the knowledge
+secret. You have not been through the scenes
+with these men that I have. There are a hundred objections
+to that theory. <i>I am absolutely persuaded that
+this 'discovery' is a forgery, executed with the highest skill,
+by the one man living capable of doing it at the instigation
+of the one man evil enough to suggest it.</i> The hand of God
+is leading me towards the truth."</p>
+
+<p>"But the proof!" said the vicar, "the proof! Think
+of the tremendous forces arrayed against us. What can
+we do? No one would listen to what you have told me."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>
+"God will show a way," said Gortre. "I know it.
+I had a letter from Harold Spence this morning. His
+work is done, and he has returned. At the end of the
+week the doctor says I shall be able to get back to Lincoln's
+Inn. I shall take counsel with Harold; he is brilliant,
+and a man of the world. Together we will work
+to overthrow these devils."</p>
+
+<p>"And meanwhile," answered Mr. Byars, with a despairing
+gesture, "meanwhile hope and faith are dying
+out of millions of hearts, men are turning to sinful
+pleasures unafraid, hopeless, desolate."</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">The strain had been too great, he was growing older;
+he bent his head on his hands, while the darkness crept
+into his soul.</p>
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IXb" id="CHAPTER_IXb">CHAPTER IX</a></h2>
+
+<h4>PARTICULAR INSTANCES, CONTRASTING THE OLD
+LADY AND THE SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="smcap">he</span> long Manchester station was full of the sullen
+and almost unbearable roar of escaping steam.
+Every now and again the noise ceased with a suddenness
+that was pain, and the groups of people waiting to
+see the London train start on its four hours' rush could
+hear each other's voices strange and thin after the mighty
+vibration.</p>
+
+<p>The feast of Christmas was over. Throughout the
+world the festival had fallen chill and cold on the hearts
+of mankind. The <i>Adeste Fideles</i> had summoned few to
+worship, and the praise had sounded thin and hollow.
+Even the faithful must keep their deep conviction as a
+hidden fire within them amid the din and crash of faith
+and the rising tides of negation and despair.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre, Helena, and Mr. Byars stood together by the
+train side. They spoke but little; the same thought was
+in their brains. The jarring materialism of the scene,
+its steady, heedless industry, seemed an outrage almost
+in its cold disregard of the sadness which they felt themselves.
+The great engines glided in and out of the station,
+the porters and travellers moved with busy cheerfulness
+as if the world were not in the grip of a great darkness
+and horror, taking no account of it. They stood by the
+door of the carriage Basil had chosen, a forlorn group
+not quite able to realise the stir of life around them.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>
+Gortre was pale and worn, but visibly better and
+stronger. His face was fixed and resolute. The vicar
+seemed much older, shrunken somewhat, and his manner
+was more tremulous than before. His arm was in
+Helena's.</p>
+
+<p>"Basil," said the vicar, "you are going from us into
+what must be the unknown&mdash;God grant a happy issue
+out of the perils and difficulties before you. For my
+part, I seem to be in an unhappy and doubting state.
+It may be that you have the key to this black mystery
+and can dispel the clouds. I shall pray daily that it may
+be so. It is in the hands of God."</p>
+
+<p>He sighed heavily as he gripped Basil's hand in farewell.
+In truth, he had but little hope and had hardly
+been able to realise the young man's story. It was
+almost inconceivable to him, the abnormal wickedness it
+suggested, the possibility that this great cloud could
+come upon the world at the action of two men, both of
+whom he had known, found pleasant, cultured people,
+and rather liked. The thought was too big to grasp, it
+confused and stunned him. It is a curious fact that this
+good man, who could believe, despite all contrary evidence,
+in the eternal truths of the Gospel, could not believe
+in the malignancy which Basil's story had seemed
+to indicate.</p>
+
+<p>Helena had not been told of Basil's suspicions, only
+of his hopes. She knew that there was that in his mind
+which might lead once more to light and disperse the
+clouds. No details were given to her, nor did she ask
+for them. She was too serene and fine for commonplace
+curiosity. The mutual trust between the lovers was absolute.
+Nothing could strain it, nothing could disturb
+it; and in her love and admiration for Basil, Helena saw
+nothing incongruous or incredible in the fact that the young
+man hoped himself to bring peace back to the world.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>
+To any one viewing the project with unbiassed eyes it
+might have seemed beyond possibility, would have provoked
+a smile, this spectacle of an obscure curate going
+up to London in a third-class carriage with hopes of saving
+his country's faith, in the expectation of overthrowing
+the gigantic edifice of learned opinion, of combating
+a Sanhedrin of the great. Such people would have said
+with facile pedantry that this girl possessed no sense of
+humour, imagining that they were reproaching her. For
+by some strange mental perversion most people would
+rather be told that they lack a sense of morals or duty
+than a sense of humour, and it is quite certain that this
+was said of John the Baptist as he preached in his unconventional
+raiment upon Jordan's banks.</p>
+
+<p>Helena and Basil walked slowly up and down the platform,
+saying farewell.</p>
+
+<p>Her words of love and hope, her serene and unquestioning
+confidence, uplifted him as nothing else could do.
+At this moment, big with his own passionate hopes and desires,
+yet dismayed at the immensity of the task before him,
+the trust and encouragement of one he loved were especially
+helpful and uplifting. It was the tonic he needed.
+And as the train slowly moved out of the station the bright
+and noble face of his lady was the last thing he saw.</p>
+
+<p>He thought long of her as the train began to gather
+speed and rush through the smoky Northern towns. As
+many other people, Gortre found a stimulus to clear,
+ordered thought in the sensation of rapid motion. The
+brain worked with more power, owing to the exhilaration
+produced in it by speed.</p>
+
+<p>As the ponderous machine which was carrying him
+back to the great theatre of strife and effort gathered
+momentum and power, so his mind became filled with
+high hopes, began to glow with eagerness to strike a
+great blow against the enemies of Christ.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>
+He looked at the carriage, noticing for the first time,
+at least consciously, the people who sat there. He had
+two fellow-passengers, a man and a woman. The man
+seemed to belong to the skilled artisan class, decently
+dressed, of sober and quiet manner. His well-marked
+features, the prominent nose, keen grey eyes, and thick
+reddish moustache, spoke eloquently of "character"
+and somewhat of thought. The woman was old, past
+sixty, a little withered creature, insignificant of face, her
+mouth a button, her hair grey, scanty, and ill-nourished.</p>
+
+<p>The man was sitting opposite to Gortre and they fell
+into talk after a time on trivial subjects. The stranger
+was civil, but somewhat assertive. He did not use the
+ordinary "sir."</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, with a slight smile of anticipation, he seemed
+to gather himself up for discussion.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he said, "I don't wish individuals no particular
+harm, you'll understand, but speaking general, I
+suppose you realise that your job's over. The Church
+will be swept away for good 'n' all in a few months now,
+and to my way of thinking it'll be the best thing as 'as
+ever come to the country. The Church has always
+failed to reach the labourin' man."</p>
+
+<p>"Because the labouring man has generally failed to
+reach the Church," said Gortre, smiling. "But you
+mean Disestablishment is near, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's it, mister," said the man. "It must come
+now, and about time, too, after all these centuries of
+humbug. I used to go to church years back and sing
+'The Church's one foundation.' Its foundation's been
+proved a pack o' lies now, and down it comes. Disestablishment
+will prove the salvation of England. When
+religion's swept away by act o' Parliament, then men
+will have an opportunity of talking sense and seeing
+things clearly."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>
+He spoke without rudeness but with a certain arrogance
+and an obvious satisfaction at the situation. Here
+was a parson cornered, literally, forced to listen to him,
+with no way of escape. Gortre imagined that he was
+congratulating himself that this was not a corridor train.</p>
+
+<p>"I think Disestablishment is very likely to come indeed,"
+said Gortre, "and it will come the sooner for
+recent events. Of course I think that it will be most
+barefaced robbery to take endowments from the Church
+which are absolutely her own property, and use them for
+secular purposes, but I'm not at all sure that it wouldn't
+be an excellent thing for the Church after all. But you
+seem to think that Disestablishment will destroy <i>religion</i>.
+That is an entire mistake, as you will find."</p>
+
+<p>"It's destroyed already," said the man, "let alone
+what's <i>going</i> to happen. Since what they've found out
+in Jerusalem the whole thing's gone puff! like blowin'
+out a match. You can't get fifty people together in any
+town what believe in religion any more. The religion of
+common sense has come now, and it's come to stay."</p>
+
+<p>A voice with a curious singing inflection came from
+the corner of the carriage, a voice utterly unlike the
+harsh North-country accent of the workman. The old
+woman was beginning to speak.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre recognised the curious Cornish tones at once,
+and looked up with sudden interest.</p>
+
+<p>"You'm wrong, my son," said the old woman, "bitter
+wrong you be, and 'tis carnal vanity that spakes
+within you. To Lostwithul, where I bide, I could show
+'ee different to what you do say."</p>
+
+<p>The workman, a good-humoured fellow enough, smiled
+superior at the odd old thing. The wrinkled face had
+become animated, two deep lines ran from the nostrils to
+the corner of the lips, hard and uncompromising. The
+eyes were bright.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>
+"Well, Mother," he said, "let's hear what <i>you've</i> got
+ter say. Fair do's in argument is only just and proper."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" she replied, "it's easy to go scat when you've
+not got love of the Lard in your heart. I be gone sixty
+years of age, and many as I can mind back-along as have
+trodden the path of sorrow. There be a brae lot o' fools
+about."</p>
+
+<p>The workman winked at Gortre with huge enjoyment,
+and settled himself comfortably in his place.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you don't hold with Disestablishing the Church,
+Mother?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"I do take no stock in Church," she replied, "begging
+the gentleman's pardon"&mdash;this to Gortre. "I was born
+and bred a Wesleyan and such I'm like to die. How
+should I know what they'll be doing up to London
+church town? This here is my first visit to England to
+see my daughter, and it'll be the last I've a mind to
+take. You should come to Cornwall, my dear, and then
+you'll see if religion's over and done away with."</p>
+
+<p>"But you've heard of all as they've just found out
+at Jerusalem, surely? It's known now that Christ never
+was what He made out to be. He won't save no more
+sinners,&mdash;it's all false what the Bible says, it's been
+<i>proved</i>. I suppose you've heard about <i>that</i> in Cornwall?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was down to the shop," said the old lady, with the
+gentle contempt of one speaking to a foolish child. "I
+was down to the shop December month, and Mrs.
+Baragwaneth showed me the <i>Western Morning News</i>
+with a picture and a lot of talk saying the Bible was ontrue,
+and Captain Billy Peters, of Treurthian mine, he
+was down-along too. How 'a did laugh at 'un! 'My
+dear,' he says, ''tis like the coast guards going mackerel-seining.
+Night after night have they been out, and shot
+the nets, too, for they be alwass seein' something briming,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>
+thinking it a school o' fish, and not knowing 'tis but
+moonshine. It's want of <i>experience</i> that do make folk
+talk so.'"</p>
+
+<p>"That's all very well, Mother," answered the man,
+slightly nettled by the placid assurance of her tone.
+"That's all pretty enough, and though I don't understand
+your fishing terms I can guess at your meaning.
+But here's the <i>proof</i> on one side and nothing at all on
+t'other. Here's all the learned men of all countries as
+says the Bible is not true, <i>and proving</i> it, and here's you
+with no learning at all just saying it <i>is</i>, with no proof
+whatever."</p>
+
+<p>"Do 'ee want proof, then?" she answered eagerly, the
+odd see-saw of her voice becoming more and more accentuated
+in her excitement. "I tell 'ee ther's as many
+proofs as pilchards in the say. Ever since the Lard died&mdash;ah!
+'twas a bitter nailing, a bitter nailing, my dear!"&mdash;she
+paused, almost with tears in her voice, and the
+whole atmosphere of the little compartment seemed to
+Basil to be irradiated, glorified by the shining faith of
+the old dame&mdash;"ever since that time the proofs have
+been going on. Now I'll tell 'ee as some as I've see'd,
+my son. Samson Trevorrow to Carbis water married my
+sister, May Rosewarne, forty years ago. He would
+drink something terrible bad, and swear like a foreigner.
+He'd a half-share in a trawler, three cottages, and money
+in the bank. First his money went, then his cottages,
+and he led a life of sin and brawling. He were a bad
+man, my dear. Every one were at 'un for an ongodly
+wastrel, but 'a kept on. An' the Lard gave him no
+children; May could not make a child to him, for she
+were onfruitful, but he would not change. All that folk
+with sense could do was done, but 't were no use."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I know the sort of man," said the workman,
+with conviction. His interest was roused, that unfailing
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>
+interest which the poorer classes take in each other's
+family history.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you do know that nothing won't turn them
+from their evil ways?"</p>
+
+<p>"When a chap gets the drink in him like that," replied
+the artisan, "there's no power that will take him
+from it. He'd go through sheet iron for it."</p>
+
+<p>"And so would Samson Trevorrow, my dear," she
+continued. "One night he came home from Penzance
+market, market-peart, as the saying is, drunk if you will.
+My sister said something to 'un, what 't was I couldn't
+say, but he struck her, for the first time. Next morning
+was the Sunday, and when she told him of what he'd
+done overnight, he was shamed of himself, and she got
+him to come along with her to chapel. 'T was a minister
+from Bodmin as prached, and 'ee did prache the
+Lard at Sam until the Word got hold on 'un and the
+man shook with repentance at his naughty life. He did
+kneel down before them all and prayed for forgiveness,
+and for the Lard to help 'un to lead a new life. From
+that Sabbath till he died, many years after, Sam never
+took anything of liquor, he stopped his sweering and
+carrying on, and he lived as a good man should. And in
+a year the Lard sent 'un a son, and if God wills I shall
+see the boy this afternoon, for he's to meet the train.
+There now, my son, that be gospel truth what I tell 'ee.
+After that can you expect any one with a grain of sense
+to listen to such foolish truck as you do tell? The Lard
+did that for Samson Trevorrow, changed 'un from black
+to white, 'a did. If the Queen herself were to tell me
+that the Lard Jesus wasn't He, I wouldn't believe her."</p>
+
+<p>As Gortre drove from Euston through the thronged
+veins of London towards the Inn, he thought much and
+with great thankfulness of the little episode in the train.
+Such simple faith, such supreme conviction, was, he
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>
+knew, the precious possession of thousands still. What
+did it matter to these sturdy Nonconformists in the lone
+West that <i>savants</i> denied Christ? All over England the
+serene triumph of the Gospel, deep, deep down in the
+hearts of quiet people, gave the eternal lie to Schuabe
+and his followers. Never could they overcome the Risen
+Lord in the human heart. He began to realise more and
+more the ineffable wonder of the Incarnation.</p>
+
+<p>Before he had arrived at Chancery Lane the London
+streets began to take hold of him once more with the old
+familiar grip. How utterly unchanged they were! It
+seemed but a day since he had left them; it was impossible
+at the moment of re-contact to realise all that had
+passed since he had gone away.</p>
+
+<p>He was to have an immediate and almost terrifying reminder
+of it. The door of the chambers was not locked,
+and pushing it open, he entered.</p>
+
+<p>Always most sensitive to the <i>atmosphere</i> of a room,
+moral as well as material, he was immediately struck by
+that of the chambers, most unpleasantly so, indeed.
+Certain indications of what had been going on there
+were easily seen. Others were not so assertive, but contributed
+their part, nevertheless, to the subtle general
+impression of the place.</p>
+
+<p>The air was stale with the pungent smell of Turkish
+tobacco and spirits. It was obvious that the windows
+had not been as freely opened as their wont. A litter of
+theatre programmes lay on one chair. On another was
+a programme of a Covent Garden ball and a girl's shoe
+of white satin, into which a fading bouquet of hothouse
+flowers had been wantonly crushed. The table was
+covered with the <i>d�bris</i> of a supper, a <i>p�t�</i>, some long-necked
+bottles which had held Niersteiner, a hideous
+box of pink satin and light blue ribbons half full of <i>glac�</i>
+plums and chocolates.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>
+The little bust of the Hermes of Praxiteles, which
+stood on one of the bookcases, had been maltreated with
+a coarseness and vulgarity which hurt Basil like a blow.
+The delicate contour of the features, the pure white of
+the plaster, were soiled and degraded. The cheeks had
+been rouged up to the eyes, which were picked out in
+violet ink. The brows were arched with an "eyebrow
+pencil" and the lips with a vivid cardinal red.</p>
+
+<p>Basil put down his portmanteau and grew very pale as
+he looked round on these and many other evidences of
+sordid and unlovely riot. His heart sank within him.
+He began to fear for Harold Spence.</p>
+
+<p>Even as he looked round, Spence came into the room
+from his bed-chamber. He was dressed in a smoking
+jacket and flannel trousers. Basil saw at once that he
+had been drinking heavily. The cheeks were swollen
+under the pouch of the eye, he was unshaven, and his
+manner was full of noisy and tremulous geniality.</p>
+
+<p>There are men in whom a week or two of sudden relapse
+into old and evil courses has an extraordinarily visible effect.
+Spence was one of them. At the moment he looked
+as the clay model compares with the finished marble.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre was astounded at the change, but one thing the
+modern London clergyman learns is tact. The situation
+was obvious, it explained itself at once, and he nerved
+himself to deal with it warily and carefully.</p>
+
+<p>Spence himself was ill at ease at they went through the
+commonplaces of meeting. Then, when they were both
+seated by the fire and were smoking, he began to speak
+frankly.</p>
+
+<p>"I can see you are rather sick, old man," he said.
+"Better have it out and done with, don't you think?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me all about it, old fellow," said Gortre.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there isn't very much to tell, only when I
+came back from Palestine after all that excitement I felt
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>
+quite lost and miserable. Something seemed taken away
+out of one's life. Then there didn't seem much to do,
+and some of the old set looked me up and I have been
+racketing about town a good bit."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you'd got over all that, Harold; because,
+putting it on no other grounds, you know the game is <i>not</i>
+worth the candle."</p>
+
+<p>"So I had, Basil, before"&mdash;he swallowed something
+in his throat&mdash;"before <i>this</i> happened. I didn't believe
+in it at first, of course, or, at least, not properly, when I
+got Hands's letter. But when I got out East&mdash;and you
+don't know and won't be able to understand how the
+East turns one's ideas upside down even at ordinary
+times&mdash;when I got out there and <i>saw</i> what Hands had
+found, then everything seemed slipping away. Then
+the Commission came over and I was with them all and
+heard what they had to say. I know the whole private
+history of the thing from first to last. It made me quite
+hopeless&mdash;a terrible feeling&mdash;the sort of utter dreariness
+that Poe talks of that the man felt when he was riding
+up to the House of Usher. Of course, thousands of
+people must have felt just the same during the past
+weeks. But to have the one thing one leaned upon, the
+one hope that kept one straight in this life, the hope of
+another and happier one, cut suddenly out of one's consciousness!
+Is it any wonder that one has gone back to
+the old temptations? I don't think so, Basil."</p>
+
+<p>His voice dropped, an intense weariness showed in
+his face. His whole body seemed permeated by it, he
+seemed to sink together in his chair. All the mental
+pain he had endured, all the physical languor of fast
+living, that terrible nausea of the soul which seizes so
+imperiously upon the vicious man who is still conscious
+of sin; all these flooded over him, possessed him, as he
+sat before his friend.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>
+An enormous pity was in Basil's heart as he saw this
+concrete weakness and misery. He realised what he had
+only guessed at before or seen but dimly. He would not
+have believed this transformation possible; he had thought
+Harold stronger. But even as he pitied him he marvelled
+at the Power which had been able to keep the man pure
+and straight so long. Even this horrid <i>d�b�cle</i> was but
+another, if indirect, testimony to the power of Faith.</p>
+
+<p>And, secondly, as he listened to his friend's story, a
+deep anger, a righteous wrath as fierce as flame burned
+within him as he thought of the two men who, he was
+persuaded, had brought this ruin upon another. In
+Spence he was able to see but a single case out of
+thousands which he knew must be similar to it. The
+evil passions which lie in the hearts of all men had been
+loosened and unchained; they had sprung into furious
+activity, liberated by the appalling conspiracy of Schuabe
+and Llwellyn.</p>
+
+<p>It is noticeable that there was by this time hardly any
+doubt in Gortre's mind as to the truth of his suspicions.</p>
+
+<p>"I understand it all, old man," he said, "and you
+needn't tell me any more. I can sympathise with you.
+But I have much to tell you&mdash;news, or, at least, theories,
+which you will be astounded to hear. Listen carefully
+to me. I believe that just as you were the instrument of
+first bringing this news to public notice, so you and I are
+going to prove its falsity, to unearth the most wicked conspiracy
+in the world's history. Pull yourself together and
+follow me with all your power. All hope is not yet gone."</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">Basil saw, with some relief, the set and attentive face
+before him, a face more like the old Spence. But, as
+he began to tell his story, there flashed into his mind a
+sudden picture of the old Cornish woman in the train,
+and he marvelled at that greater faith as his eye fell
+upon the foul disorder of the room.</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_Xb" id="CHAPTER_Xb">CHAPTER X</a></h2>
+
+<h4>THE TRIUMPH OF SIR ROBERT LLWELLYN</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">I</span><span class="smcap">n</span> the large, open fireplaces of the Sheridan Club
+dining-room, logs of pine and cedar wood gave out
+a regular and well-diffused warmth. Outside, the snow
+was still falling, and beyond the long windows, covered
+with their crimson curtains, the yellow air was full of
+soft and silent movement.</p>
+
+<p>The extreme comfort of the lofty, panelled dining-room
+was accentuated a hundred-fold, to those entering
+it, by the chilly experience of the streets.</p>
+
+<p>The electric lights burnt steadily in their silk shades,
+the gleams falling upon the elaborate table furniture in a
+thousand points of dancing light.</p>
+
+<p>At one of the tables, laid for two people, Sir Robert
+Llwellyn was sitting. He was in evening dress, and his
+massive face was closely scrutinising a printed list propped
+up against a wine-glass before him. His expression was
+interested and intent. By his side was a sheet of the
+club note-paper, and from time to time he jotted down
+something upon it with a slender gold pencil.</p>
+
+<p>The great arch�ologist was ordering dinner for himself
+and a guest with much thought and care.</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<i>Cr�me d'asperge � la Reine</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>in his neat writing, the letters distinct from one another&mdash;almost
+like an inscription in Uncial Greek character,
+one might have fancied.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>
+<i>Turbot � l'Amiral</i> promised well; the plump, powerful
+fingers wrote it down.</p>
+
+<p><i>Poulardes du Mans r�ties</i> with <i>petits pois � la Fran�aise</i>
+with a <i>salade Ni�oise</i> to follow; that would be excellent!
+Then just a little <i>supr�me de p�ches, � la Montreuil</i>,
+which is quite the best kind of <i>supr�me</i>, then some <i>Parmesan</i>
+before the coffee.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite a simple dinner, Painter," he said to the
+steward of the room,&mdash;the famous "small dining-room"
+with its alcoves and discreet corners,&mdash;"simple but good.
+Of course you will tell Maurice that it is for <i>me</i>. I want
+him to do quite his best. If you will send this list off to
+the kitchens with a message, we will go into the wines
+together."</p>
+
+<p>They went carefully into the wines.</p>
+
+<p>"Remember that we shall want the large liqueur
+glasses," he said, "with the Tuileries brandy. In fact,
+I think I'll take a little now, as an <i>ap�ritif</i>."</p>
+
+<p>The man bowed confidentially and went away. He
+returned with a long bottle of curious shape with an imperial
+crown blown in the glass. It was some of the
+famous brandy which had been lately found bricked up
+in a cellar close to the <i>Place Carrousel</i>, and was worth
+its weight in gold.</p>
+
+<p>On the tray stood one of the curious liqueur glasses
+lately introduced into the club by Sir Robert. It was the
+shape of a port-wine glass, but enormously large, capable
+of holding a pint or more, and made of glass as thin as
+tissue paper and fragile as straw. The steward poured a
+very little of the brandy into the great glass and twirled
+it round rapidly by the stem. This was the most epicurean
+device for bringing out the bouquet of the liqueur.</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn sipped the precious liquid with an air of
+the most intense enjoyment. His face glowed with
+enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>
+"Wonderful, wonderful!" he said in a hushed voice.
+"There, take it away and bring me an olive. Then I
+will go down-stairs and wait for my friend in the smoking-room.
+You will serve the soup at five minutes past
+eight."</p>
+
+<p>He got up from the table and moved silently over the
+heavy carpet to the door.</p>
+
+<p>It was about seven o'clock. At eight Constantine
+Schuabe was coming to the Sheridan Club to dine.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Robert sat in the smoking-room with a tiny cigarette
+of South American tobacco, wrapped in maize leaf and
+tied round the centre with a tiny cord of green silk.
+His face expressed nothing but the most absolute repose.
+His correspondence with life was at that moment as
+complete as the most perfect health and discriminating
+luxury could make it.</p>
+
+<p>He stretched out his feet to the blaze and idly watched
+the reflection in the points of his shining boots.</p>
+
+<p>The room was quite silent now. A few men sat about
+reading the evening papers, and there was a subdued
+hum of talk from a table where two men were playing a
+casual game of chess, in which neither of them seemed
+much interested. A large clock upon the oak mantel-shelf
+ticked with muffled and soothing regularity.</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn picked up a sixpenny illustrated paper, devoted
+to amusements and the lighter side of life, and
+lazily opened it.</p>
+
+<p>His eye fell upon a double-page article interspersed
+with photographs of actors and actresses. The article
+was a summing-up of the year's events on the lighter
+stage by an accepted expert in such matters. He read
+as follows:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"The six Trocadero girls whom I remember in Paris
+recently billed as 'The Cocktails,' never forget that
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>
+grace is more important in dancing than mere agility.
+They are youthful looking, pretty and supple, and their
+man&#339;uvres are cunningly devised. The <i>diseuse</i> of the
+troupe, Mdlle. Nepinasse, sings the Parisian success,
+<i>Viens Poupoule</i>, with considerable 'go' and swing.
+But in hearing her at the 'Gloucester' the other night
+I could not help regretting the disappearance of brilliant
+Gertrude Hunt from the boards where she was so great
+an attraction. <i>Poupoule</i>, or its English equivalent, is
+just the type of song, with its attendant descriptive
+dance, in which that gay little lady was seen at her best.
+In losing her, the musical-comedy stage has lost a player
+whose peculiar individuality will not easily be replaced.
+Gertrude Hunt stood quite alone among her sisters of
+the Profession. Who will readily forget the pert <i>insouciance</i>,
+the little trick of the gloved hands, the mellow
+calling voice? It has been announced that this popular
+favourite has disappeared for ever from the stage. But
+there is a distinct mystery about the sudden eclipse of
+this star, and one which conjecture and inquiry has
+utterly failed to solve. Well, I, in common with thousands
+of others, can only sigh and regret it. Yet I
+should like to think that these lines would meet her eye,
+and she may know that I am only voicing the wishes of
+the public when I call to her to come back and delight
+our eyes and ears as before."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>By the side of the paragraph there was a photograph
+of Gertrude Hunt. He stared at it, his mind busy with
+memories and evil longing. The bold, handsome face,
+the great eyes, looked him full in the face. Never had
+any woman been able to hold him as this one. She had
+become part of his life. In his mad passion for the
+dancer he had risked everything, until his whole career
+had depended upon the good-will of Constantine Schuabe.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>
+There had been no greater pleasure than to satisfy her
+wishes, however tasteless, however vulgar. And then,
+hastening back to her side with a fortune for her (the
+second he had poured into the white grasping hands), he
+had found her with the severe young priest. A power
+which he was unable to understand had risen up as a bar
+to his enormous egoism. She had gone, utterly disappeared,
+vanished as a shadow vanishes at the moving of
+a light.</p>
+
+<p>And all his resources, all those of the theatre people
+with whom she had been so long associated, had utterly
+failed to trace her.</p>
+
+<p>The Church had swallowed her up in its mystery and
+gloom. She was lost to him for ever. And the fierce
+longing to be with her once more burnt within him like
+the unhallowed flame upon the altar of an idol.</p>
+
+<p>As he regarded the chaos into which the Church was
+plunged he would laugh to himself in horrid glee. His
+indifference to all forms of religious congregations had
+gone. He felt an active and bitter hatred now hardly
+less than that of Schuabe himself. And all the concentrated
+hatred and incalculable malice that his poisoned
+brain distilled was focussed and directed upon the young
+curate who had been the means and instrument of his
+discomfiture. He had begun to plan schemes of swift
+revenge, laughing at himself sometimes for the crude
+melodrama of his thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>As a waiter with his powdered hair and white silk
+stockings showed Schuabe into the smoking-room, the
+Jew saw with surprise the flushed and agitated face of his
+host, so unlike its usual sensual serenity. He wondered
+what had arisen to disturb Llwellyn, and he made up
+his mind that he would know it before the evening was
+over.</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe, on his part, seemed depressed and in poor
+spirits.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> There was a restlessness, quite foreign to his
+usual composure, which appeared in little nervous tricks
+of his fingers. He toyed with his wine-glass and did
+poor justice to the careful dinner.</p>
+
+<p>"Everything is going on very well," Llwellyn said.
+"My book is nearly finished, and the American rights
+were sold yesterday. The Council of the Free Churches
+have appointed Dr. Barker to write a counterblast. Who
+could have foreseen the stir and tumult in the world?
+Everything is toppling over in the religious world. I
+have read of your triumphal progress in the North&mdash;this
+asparagus soup is excellent."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't feel very much inclined to talk of these
+things to-night," said Schuabe. "To tell the truth, my
+nerves are a little out of order, and I have been doing
+too much. I've got in that ridiculous state in which
+one is constantly apprehending some sinister event.
+Everything has gone well, and yet I'm like this. It is
+foolish. How humiliating a thought it is, Llwellyn,
+that even intellects like yours and mine are entirely dependent
+upon the secretions of the liver!"</p>
+
+<p>He smiled rather grimly, and the disturbance of the
+regular repose and immobility of his face showed depths
+of weary unhappiness which betrayed the tumult within.</p>
+
+<p>He recovered himself quickly, anxious, it seemed, to
+betray his thoughts no further.</p>
+
+<p>"You seemed upset when I came into the club," he
+said. "You ought to be happy enough. Debts all
+gone, fifty thousand in the bank, reputation higher than
+ever, and all the world listening to everything you've
+got to say." He smiled rather bitterly, as Llwellyn
+raised a glass of champagne to his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly," said Llwellyn. "I've got everything I
+wanted a few months ago, and one of the principal inducements
+for wanting it has gone."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>
+"Oh! you mean that girl?" answered Schuabe, contemptuously.
+"Well, buy another. They are for sale
+in all the theatres, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"It's all very well to sneer like that," replied
+Llwellyn. "It's nothing to me that you're about as
+cold-blooded as a fish, but you needn't sneer at a man
+who is not. Because you enjoy yourself by means of
+asceticism you have no more virtue than I have. I am
+fond of this one girl; she has become necessary to my
+life. I spent thousands on her, and then this abominable
+young parson takes her away&mdash;" He ground his teeth
+savagely, his face became purple, he was unable to finish
+his sentence.</p>
+
+<p>Curiously enough Schuabe seemed to be in sympathy
+with his host's rage. A deadly and vindictive expression
+crept into his eyes, which were nevertheless more glittering
+and cold than before.</p>
+
+<p>"Gortre has come back to London. He has been
+here nearly a week," said Schuabe, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>The other started. "You know his movements then?
+What has he to do with <i>you</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"More than, perhaps, you think. Llwellyn, that
+young man is dangerous!"</p>
+
+<p>"He's done me all the harm he can already. There
+is nothing else he can do, unless he elopes with Lady
+Llwellyn, an event which I should view with singular
+equanimity."</p>
+
+<p>"At any rate, I take sufficient interest in that person's
+movements to have them reported to me daily."</p>
+
+<p>"Why on earth&mdash;&mdash;?"</p>
+
+<p>"Simply because he guesses, or will guess, at the
+truth about the Damascus Gate sepulchre!"</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn grew utterly white. When he spoke it was
+with several preliminary moistenings of the lips.</p>
+
+<p>"But what proof can he have?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>
+"Don't be alarmed, Llwellyn. We are perfectly safe
+in every way. Only the man is an enemy of mine, and
+even small enemies are obnoxious. He won't disturb
+either of us for long."</p>
+
+<p>The big man gave a sigh of relief. "Well, you manage
+as you think best," he said. "Confound him! He
+deserves all he gets&mdash;let's change the subject. It's a
+little too Adelphi-like to be amusing."</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to hear Pachmann in the St. James's
+Hall. Will you come?"</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn considered a moment. "No, I don't think
+I will. I'm going out to a supper-party in St. John's
+Wood later&mdash;Charlie Fitzgerald's, the lessee of the
+Piccadilly. I shall go home and read a novel quietly.
+To tell the truth, I feel rather depressed, too. Everything
+seems going too well, doesn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe's voice shook a little as he replied shortly.</p>
+
+<p>For a brief moment the veil was raised. Each saw
+the other with eyes full of the fear that was lurking
+within them.</p>
+
+<p>For weeks they had been at cross purposes, simulating
+a courage and indifference they did not feel.</p>
+
+<p>Now each knew the truth.</p>
+
+<p>They knew that the burden of their terrible secret was
+beginning to press and enclose them with its awful
+weight. Each had imagined the other free from his own
+terror, that terror that lifts up its head in times of night
+and silence, the dread Incubus that murders sleep.</p>
+
+<p>The two men went out of the club together without
+speaking. Their hearts were beating like drums within
+them; it was the beginning of the agony.</p>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p>Llwellyn, his coat exchanged for a smoking jacket,
+lay back in a leather chair in his library. Since his return
+from Palestine he had transferred most of his belongings
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>
+to a small flat in New Bond Street. He hardly
+ever visited his wife now. The flat in Bloomsbury
+Court Mansions had been given up when Gertrude Hunt
+had gone.</p>
+
+<p>In New Bond Street Sir Robert lived alone. A housekeeper
+in the basement of the buildings looked after his
+rooms and his valet slept above.</p>
+
+<p>The new <i>pied � terre</i> was furnished with great luxury.
+It was not the garish luxury and vulgar splendour of
+Bloomsbury Court&mdash;that had been the dancer's taste.
+Here Llwellyn had gathered round him all that could
+make life pleasant, and his own taste had seen to everything.</p>
+
+<p>As he sat alone, slightly recovered from the nervous
+shock of the dinner, but in an utter depression of spirits,
+his thoughts once more went back to his lost mistress.</p>
+
+<p>It was in times like these that he needed her most.
+She would distract him, amuse him, where a less vulgar,
+more intellectual woman would have increased his
+boredom.</p>
+
+<p>He sighed heavily, pitying himself, utterly unconscious
+of his degradation. The books upon the shelves, learned
+and weighty monographs in all languages, his own brilliant
+contributions to historical science among them,
+had no power to help him. He sighed for his rowdy
+Circe.</p>
+
+<p>The electric bell of the flat rang sharply outside in the
+passage. His man was out, and he rose to answer it
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>A friend probably had looked him up for a drink and
+smoke. He was glad; he wanted companionship, easy,
+genial companionship, not that pale devil Schuabe, with
+his dreary talk and everlasting reminder.</p>
+
+<p>He went out into the passage and opened the front
+door. A woman stood there.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>
+She moved, and the light from the hall shone on her
+face.</p>
+
+<p>The eyes were brilliant, the lips were half parted.</p>
+
+<p>It was Gertrude Hunt.</p>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p>They were sitting on each side of the fire.</p>
+
+<p>Gertrude was pale, but her dark beauty blazed at him.</p>
+
+<p>She was smoking a cigarette, just as in the old time.</p>
+
+<p>A little table with a caraffe of brandy and bottles of
+seltzer in a silver stand stood between them.</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn's face was one large circle of pleasure and
+content. His eyes gleamed with an evil triumph as he
+looked at the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Heavens!" he cried, "why, Gertie, it's almost
+worth while losing you to have you back again like
+this. It's just exactly as it used to be, only better; yes,
+better! So you got tired of it all, and you've come
+back. What a little fool you were ever to go away,
+dear!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I got tired of it," she repeated, but in a curiously
+strained voice.</p>
+
+<p>He was too exhilarated to notice the strange manner
+of her reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I've got any amount of ready cash now," he
+said joyously. "You can have anything you like now
+that you've given up the confounded parsons and become
+sensible again."</p>
+
+<p>She seemed to make an effort to throw off something
+that oppressed her.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Bob," she said, "don't talk about it. I've
+been a little fool, but that's over. What a lot you've
+got to tell me! What did you do all the time you were
+away? Where did you raise the 'oof from? Tell me
+<i>everything</i>. Let's be as we were before. No more
+secrets!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>
+He seemed to hesitate for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>She saw that, and stood up. "Come and kiss me,
+Bob," she said. He went to her with unsteady footsteps,
+as if he were intoxicated by the fury of his passion.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me everything, Bob," she whispered into his
+ear.</p>
+
+<p>The man surrendered himself to her, utterly, absolutely.</p>
+
+<p>"Gertie," he said, "I'll tell you the queerest story
+you ever heard."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed wildly.</p>
+
+<p>"I've tricked the whole world by Jove! cleared fifty
+thousand pounds, and made fools of the whole world."</p>
+
+<p>She laughed, a shrill, high treble.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear old Bob," she cried; "clever old Bob, you're
+the best of them all! What have you done this time?
+Tell me all about it."</p>
+
+<p>"By God, I will," he cried. "I'll tell you the whole
+story, little girl." His voice was utterly changed.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, everything!" she repeated fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>Her body shook violently as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>The man thought it was in response to his caresses.</p>
+
+<p>And the face which looked out over the man's shoulder,
+and had lately been as the face of Delilah, was become
+as the face of Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite.</p>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p>"No more secrets, Bob?"</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">"No more secrets, Gertie; but how pale you look!
+Take some brandy, little girl. Now, I'm going to
+make you laugh! Listen!"</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIb" id="CHAPTER_XIb">CHAPTER XI</a></h2>
+
+<h4>PROGRESS</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">S</span><span class="smcap">ir Michael Manichoe</span>, Father Ripon, and
+Harold Spence were sitting in Sir Michael's own
+study in his London house in Berkeley Square. A
+small circular table with the remains of a simple meal
+showed that they had dined there, without formality,
+more of necessity than pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>When a small company of men animated by one
+strenuous purpose meet together, the same expression
+may often be seen on the face of each one of them.
+The three men in the study were curiously alike at this
+moment. A grim resolution, something of horror, a
+great expectation looked out of their eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Michael looked at his watch. "Gortre ought to be
+here directly," he said. "It won't take him very long
+to drive from Victoria. The train must be in already."</p>
+
+<p>Father Ripon nodded, without speaking.</p>
+
+<p>There was another interval of silence.</p>
+
+<p>Then Spence spoke. "Of course it is only a <i>chance</i>,"
+he said. "Gertrude Hunt may very likely be able to
+give us no information whatever. One can hardly suppose
+that Llewellyn would confide in her."</p>
+
+<p>"Not fully," said Father Ripon. "But there will be
+letters probably. I feel sure that Gortre will come back
+with some contributory evidence, at all events. We
+must go to work slowly, and with the greatest care."</p>
+
+<p>"The greatest possible care," repeated Sir Michael.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>
+"On the shoulders of us four people hangs an incredible
+burden. We must do nothing until we are <i>sure</i>. But
+ever since Gortre's suspicions have been known to me,
+ever since Schuabe asked you that curious question in
+the train, Ripon, I have felt absolutely assured of their
+truth. Everything becomes clear at once. The only
+difficulty is the difficulty of believing in such colossal
+wickedness, coupled with such supreme daring."</p>
+
+<p>"It is hard," said Father Ripon. "But probably
+one's mind is dazzled with the consequences, the <i>size</i>,
+and immensity of the fraud. Apart from this question
+of bigness, it may be that there is, given a certain Napoleonic
+type of brain, no more danger or difficulty in
+doing such gigantic evil than in doing evil on a smaller
+scale."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps the size of the operation blinds people&mdash;"
+Spence was continuing, when the door opened and the
+butler showed Gortre into the room.</p>
+
+<p>He wore a heavy black cloak and carried a Paisley
+travelling rug upon his arm.</p>
+
+<p>The three waiting men started up at his approach, with
+an unspoken question on the lips of each one of them.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre began to speak at once. He was slightly
+flushed from his ride through the keen, frosty air of the
+evening. His manner was brisk, hopeful.</p>
+
+<p>"The interview was excessively painful, as I had anticipated,"
+he began. "The result has been this: I
+have been able to get no direct absolute confirmation of
+what we think. On the other hand, what I <i>have</i> heard
+establishes something and has made me morally certain
+that we are on the right track. I think there can be no
+doubt about that. Again, there is a strong possibility
+that we shall know much more very shortly."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you had anything to eat?" asked Sir Michael.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, and I'm hungry after my journey. I'll
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>
+have some of this cold beef, and tell you everything that
+has happened while I eat."</p>
+
+<p>He sat down, began his meal, and told his story in
+detail.</p>
+
+<p>"I found Miss Hunt," he said, "in her little cottage
+by the coast-guard watch-house, looking over the sea.
+Of course, as you know, she is known as Mrs. Hunt in
+the village. Only the rector knows her story&mdash;she has
+made herself very beloved in Eastworld, even in the
+short time she has been there. I asked her, first of all,
+about her life in general. Then, without in any way indicating
+the object of my visit&mdash;at that point&mdash;I led the
+conversation up to the subject of the Palestine 'discovery.'
+Of course she had heard of it, and knew all
+the details. The rector had preached upon it, and the
+whole village, so it seems, was in a ferment for a week
+or so. Then, in both Church and the Dissenting chapels&mdash;there
+are two&mdash;the whole thing died away in a marvellous
+manner. The history of it was extremely interesting.
+Every one came to service just the same as usual,
+life went on in unbroken placidity. The fishermen, who
+compose the whole population of the village, absolutely
+<i>refused</i> to believe or discuss the thing. So utterly different
+from townspeople! They simply felt and knew intuitively
+that the statements made in the papers <i>must</i> be
+untrue. So without argument or worry they ignored it.
+Miss Hunt said that the church has been fuller than
+ever before, the people coming as a sort of stubborn
+protest against any attack upon the faith of their fathers.
+For her own part, when she realised what the news
+meant or would mean, Miss Hunt had a black time of
+terror and struggle. She is a woman with a good brain,
+and saw at once what it would mean to her. Her own
+words were infinitely pathetic. 'I went out on the
+sands,' she said, 'and walked for miles. Then when I
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>
+was tired out I sat down and cried, to think that there
+would never be any Jesus any more to save poor girls.
+It seemed so empty and terrible, and I'd only been
+trying to be good such a short time. I went to evensong
+when I got back; the bell was tolling just as usual.
+And as I sat there I saw that it <i>couldn't</i> be true that
+Jesus was just a good man, and not God. I wondered
+at myself for doubting, seeing what He'd done for me.
+If the paper was right, then why was it I was so happy,
+happier than ever before in my life&mdash;although I am
+going to die soon? Why was it that I could go away
+and leave Bob and the old life? why was it that I could
+see Jesus in my walks, hear the wind praying&mdash;feel that
+everything was speaking of Him?' That was the gist
+of what she said, though there was much more. I wish
+I could tell you adequately of the deep conviction in
+her voice and eyes. One doesn't often see it, except in
+very old people. After this I began to speak of our
+suspicions as delicately as possible. It was horribly
+difficult. One was afraid of awakening old longings
+and recalling that man's influence. I was relieved to
+find that she took it very well indeed. Her feelings
+towards the man have undergone a complete change.
+She fears him, not because he has yet an influence over
+her, but with a hearty fear and horror of the life she was
+living with him. When I told her what we thought, she
+began at once by saying that from what she knew of
+Llwellyn he would not stop even at such wickedness as
+this. She said that he only cared for two things, and
+kept them quite distinct. When he is working he
+throws his whole heart into what he is doing, and he will
+let no obstacle stand in his way. He wants to constantly
+assure himself of his own pre-eminence in his
+work. He must be first at any cost. When his work is
+over he dismisses it absolutely from his thoughts, and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>
+lives entirely for gross, material pleasures. The man
+seems to pursue these with a horrid, overwhelming eagerness.
+I gather that he must be one of the coldest and
+most calculating sybarites that breathes. The actual
+points I have gathered are these, and I think you will
+see that they are extremely important. Llwellyn was
+indebted enormously to Schuabe. Suddenly, Miss Hunt
+tells me, when Llwellyn's financial position began to be
+very shaky, Schuabe forgave him the old debts and paid
+him a large sum of money. Llwellyn paid off a lot of
+the girl's debts, and he told her that the money had
+come from that source. It was not a loan this time, he
+said to her, but a payment for some work he was about
+to do. He also impressed the necessity of silence upon
+her. While away he wrote several times to her&mdash;once
+from Alexandria, from one or two places on the Continent,
+<i>and twice from the German hotel</i>, <i>the</i> 'Sab�l,' <i>in
+Jerusalem</i>."</p>
+
+<p>There was a sudden murmur from one or two men
+who were listening to Gortre's narrative. He had long
+since forgotten to eat and was leaning forward on the
+table. He paused for a moment, drank a glass of water,
+and concluded:</p>
+
+<p>"This then is all that I know at present, but it gives
+us a basis. We know that Sir Robert Llwellyn was
+staying privately at Jerusalem. Miss Hunt was instructed
+to write to him under the name of the Rev.
+Robert Lake, and she did so, thinking that his incognito
+was assumed owing to the kind of pleasures he was pursuing,
+and especially because of his recent knighthood.
+But in a week's time Miss Hunt has asked me to go down
+to Eastworld again, as she has hopes of getting other
+evidence for me. She will not say what this is likely to
+consist of, or, in fact, tell me anything about it. But
+she has hopes."</p>
+
+<p>"This is of great importance, Gortre," said Sir Michael;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>
+"we have something definite to go upon."</p>
+
+<p>"I will start again for Jerusalem without loss of a
+day," said Spence, his whole face lighting up and hardening
+at the thought of active occupation.</p>
+
+<p>"I was going to suggest it, Mr. Spence," said Sir
+Michael. "You will do what is necessary better than
+any of us; your departure will attract less notice. You
+will of course draw upon me for any moneys that may
+be necessary. If in the course of your investigations it
+may be&mdash;and it is extremely probable&mdash;may be necessary
+to buy the truth, of course no money considerations
+must stand in the way. We are working for the peace
+and happiness of millions. We are in very deep waters."</p>
+
+<p>Father Ripon gave a deep sigh. Then, in an instant,
+his face hardened and flushed till it was almost unrecognisable.
+The others started back from him in amazement.
+He began to tremble violently from the legs
+upwards. Then he spoke:</p>
+
+<p>"God forgive me," he said in a thick, husky voice.
+"God forgive me! But when I think of those two men,
+devils that they are, devils! when I regard the broken
+lives, the suicides, the fearful mass of crime, I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>His voice failed him. The frightful wrath and anger
+took him and shook him like a reed&mdash;this tall, black-robed
+figure&mdash;it twisted him with a physical convulsion
+inexpressibly painful to witness.</p>
+
+<p>For near a minute Father Ripon stood among them
+thus, and they were rigid with sympathy, with alarm.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">Then, with a heavy sob, he turned and fell upon his
+knees in silent prayer.</p>
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIIb" id="CHAPTER_XIIb">CHAPTER XII</a></h2>
+
+<h4>A SOUL ALONE ON THE SEA-SHORE</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="smcap">he</span> little village of Eastworld is set on a low headland
+by the sea, remote from towns and any haunt
+of men. The white cottages of the fisherfolk, an inn,
+the church, and a low range of coast-guard buildings, are
+the only buildings there. Below the headland there are
+miles upon miles of utterly lonely sands which edge the
+sea in a great yellow scimitar as far as the eye can carry,
+from east to west.</p>
+
+<p>Hardly any human footsteps ever disturb the vast virgin
+smoothness of the sands, for the fisherfolk sail up
+the mouth of a sluggish tidal river to reach the village.
+All day long the melancholy sea-birds call to each other
+over the wastes, and away on the sky-line, or so it seems
+to any one walking upon the sands, the great white breakers
+roll and boom for ever.</p>
+
+<p>Over the flat expanses the tide, with no obstacle to
+slacken or impede its progress, rushes with furious haste&mdash;as
+fast, so the fisherfolks tell, as a good horse in full
+gallop.</p>
+
+<p>It was the beginning of the winter afternoon on the
+day after Gortre had visited Eastworld.</p>
+
+<p>There was little wind, but the sky hung low in cold
+and menacing clouds, ineffably cheerless and gloomy.</p>
+
+<p>A single figure moved slowly through these forbidding
+solitudes. It was Gertrude Hunt. She wore a simple
+coat and skirt of grey tweed, a tam-o'-shanter cap of
+crimson wool, and carried a walking cane.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>
+She had come out alone to think out a problem out
+there between the sea and sky, with no human help or
+sympathy to aid her.</p>
+
+<p>The strong, passionate face was paler than before and
+worn by suffering. Yet as she strode along there was a
+wild beauty in her appearance which seemed to harmonise
+with the very spirit and meaning of the place
+where she was. And yet the face had lost the old jaunty
+hardihood. Qualities in it which had before spoken of
+an impudent self-sufficiency now were changed to quiet
+purpose. There was an appeal for pity in the eyes which
+had once been bright with shamelessness and sin.</p>
+
+<p>The woman was thinking deeply. Her head was
+bowed as she walked, the lips set close together.</p>
+
+<p>Gortre's visit had moved her deeply. When she had
+heard his story something within her, an intuition beyond
+calm reason, had told her instantly of its truth. She
+could not have said why she knew this, but she was
+utterly certain.</p>
+
+<p>Her long connection with Llwellyn had left no traces
+of affection now. As she would kneel in the little windy
+church on the headland and listen to the rector, an old
+friend of Father Ripon's, reading prayers, she looked
+back on her past life as a man going about his business
+in sunlight remembers some horrid nightmare of the
+evening past. She but rarely allowed her thoughts to
+dwell upon the former partner of her sin, but when she
+did so it was with a sense of shrinking and dislike. As
+the new Light which filled her life taught, she endeavoured
+to think of the man with Christian charity
+and sometimes to pray that his heart also might be
+touched. But perhaps this was the most difficult of all
+the duties she set herself, although she had no illusions
+about the past, realised his kindness to her, and also that
+she had been at least as bad as he. But now there
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>
+seemed a great gulf between them which she never cared
+to pass even in thought.</p>
+
+<p>Her repentance was so sincere and deep, her mourning
+for her misspent life so genuine, that it never allowed
+her the least iota of spiritual pride&mdash;the snare of weaker
+penitents when they have turned from evil courses.
+Yet, try as she would, she could never manage to really
+identify her hopes and prayers with Llwellyn in any
+vivid way.</p>
+
+<p>And now the young clergyman, the actual instrument
+of her own salvation as she regarded him, had come to
+her with this story in which she had recognised the
+truth.</p>
+
+<p>In sad and eloquent words he had painted for her
+what the great fraud had meant to thousands. He told
+of upright and godly men stricken down because their
+faith was not strong enough to bear the blow. There
+was the curate at Wigan, who had shot himself and left
+a heart-breaking letter of mad mockery behind him;
+there were other cases of suicide. There was the surging
+tide of crime, rising ever higher and higher as the
+clergy lost all their influence in the slums of London
+and the great towns. He told her of Harold Spence,
+mentioning him as "a journalist friend of mine," explaining
+what a good fellow he was, and how he had
+overcome his temptations with the aid of religion and
+faith. And he described his own return to Lincoln's
+Inn, the disorder, and Harold's miserable story. She
+could picture it all so well, that side of life. She knew
+its every detail. And, moreover, Gortre had said "the
+evil was growing and spreading each day, each hour."
+True as it was that the myriad lamps of the Faithful
+only burned the brighter for the surrounding gloom, yet
+that gloom was growing and rolling up, even as the
+clouds on which her unseeing eyes were fixed as she
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>
+walked along the shore. Men were becoming reckless;
+the hosts of evil triumphed on every side.</p>
+
+<p>The thought which came to her as Gortre had gradually
+unfolded the object of his visit was startling. She
+herself might perhaps prove to be the pivot upon which
+these great events were turning. It was possible that
+by her words, that by means of her help, the dark conspiracy
+might be unveiled and the world freed from its
+burden. She herself might be able to do all this, a kind
+of thank-offering for the miraculous change that had
+been wrought in her life.</p>
+
+<p>Yet, when it was all summed up, how little she had to
+tell Gortre after all! True, her information was of
+some value; it seemed to confirm what he and his
+friends suspected. But still it was very little, and it
+meant long delay, if she could provide no other key to
+open this dark door. And meanwhile souls were dying
+and sinking....</p>
+
+<p>She had asked Gortre to come to her again in a week.</p>
+
+<p>In that time, she had said, she might have some
+further information for him.</p>
+
+<p>And now she was out here, alone on the sands, to ask
+her soul and God what she was to do.</p>
+
+<p>The clouds fell lower, a cutting wind began to moan
+and cry over the sand, which was swept up and swirled
+in her face. And still she went on with a bitterness and
+chill as of death in her heart.</p>
+
+<p>She knew her power over her former lover,&mdash;if that
+pure word could describe such an unhallowed passion,&mdash;knew
+her power well. He would be as wax in her
+hands, and it had always been so. From the very first
+she had done what she liked with him, and there had
+always been an undercurrent of contempt in her thoughts
+that a man could be led so easily, could be made the
+doll and puppet of his own passion. Nor did she doubt
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>
+that her power still remained. She felt sure of that.
+Even in her seclusion some news of his frantic attempts
+to find her had reached her. Her beauty still remained,
+heightened indeed by the slow complaint from which
+she was suffering. He knew nothing of that. And, as
+for the rest&mdash;the rouge-pot, the belladonna&mdash;well, they
+were still available, though she had thought to have
+done with them for ever.</p>
+
+<p>The idea began to emerge from the mist, as it were,
+and to take form and colour. She thought definitely of
+it, though with horror; looked it in the face, though
+shuddering as she did so.</p>
+
+<p>It resolved itself into a statement, a formula, which
+rang and dinned itself repeatedly into her consciousness
+like the ominous strokes of a bell heard through the
+turmoil of the gathering storm,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"<i>If I go back to Bob and pretend I'm tired of being
+good, he will tell me all he's done.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Over and over again the girl repeated the sentence to
+herself. It glowed in her brain, and burnt it like letters
+of heated wire. She looked up at the leaden canopy
+which held the wind, and it flashed out at her in letters
+of violet lightning. The wind carved it in the sand,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"<i>If I go back to Bob and pretend I'm tired of being
+good, he will tell me what he has done.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Could she do this thing for the sake of Gortre, for the
+sake of the world? What did it mean exactly? She
+would be sinning terribly once more, going back to the
+old life. It was possible that she might never be able
+to break away again after achieving her purpose; one
+did not twice escape hell. It would mean that she
+sinned a deadly sin in order to help others. Ought she
+to do that! Was that right?</p>
+
+<p>The wind fifed round her, shrieking.</p>
+
+<p><i>Could she do this thing?</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>
+She would only be sinning with her body, not with
+her heart, and Christ would know why she did so.
+Would He cast her out for this?</p>
+
+<p>The struggle went on in her brain. She was not a subtle
+person, unused to any self-communing that was not perfectly
+straightforward and simple. The efforts she was
+making now were terribly hard for her to endure. Yet
+she forced her mind to the work by a great effort of will,
+summoned all her flagging energies to high consideration.</p>
+
+<p>If she went back it <i>might</i> mean utter damnation, even
+though she found out what she wanted to find out. She
+had been a Christian so short a time, she knew very
+little of the truth about these matters.</p>
+
+<p>In her misery and struggle she began more and more
+to think in this way.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she saw the thing, as she fancied, and indeed
+said half aloud to herself, "in a common-sense
+light." Her face worked horribly, though she was quite
+unconscious of it.</p>
+
+<p>"It's better that one person, especially one that's
+been as bad as I have, should go to hell than hundreds
+and thousands of others."</p>
+
+<p>And then her decision was taken.</p>
+
+<p>The light died out of her face, the hope also. She
+became old in a sudden moment.</p>
+
+<p>And, with one despairing prayer for forgiveness, she
+began to walk towards her cottage&mdash;there was a fast
+train to town.</p>
+
+<p>She believed that there could hardly be forgiveness
+for her act, and yet the thought of "the others" gave
+her strength to sin.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">And so, out of her great love for Christ, this poor
+harlot set out to sin a sin which she thought would
+take Him away from her for ever.</p>
+
+<h4>END OF BOOK II</h4>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>BOOK III</h2>
+
+<p class="center">" ... Woman fearing and trembling"</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_Ic" id="CHAPTER_Ic">CHAPTER I</a></h2>
+
+<h4>WHAT IT MEANT TO THE WORLD'S WOMEN</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">I</span><span class="smcap">n</span> her house in the older, early-Victorian remnants of
+Kensington, Mrs. Hubert Armstrong sat at breakfast.
+Her daughter, a pretty, unintellectual girl, was
+pouring out tea with a suggestion of flippancy in her
+manner. The room was grave and somewhat formal.
+Portraits of Matthew Arnold, Professor Green, and Mark
+Pattison hung upon the sombre, olive walls.</p>
+
+<p>Over the mantel-shelf, painted in ornamental chocolate-coloured
+letters, the famous authoress's pet motto
+was austerely blazoned,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"<i>The decisive events of the world take place in the
+intellect.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, save for the bright-haired girl at the urn, the
+room struck just that note. It would be difficult to
+imagine an ordinary conversation taking place there.
+It was a place in which solid chunks of thought were
+gravely handed about.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Armstrong wore a flowing morning wrap of
+dark red material. It was clasped at the smooth white
+throat by a large cameo brooch, a dignified bauble once
+the property of George Eliot. The clear, steady eyes,
+the smooth bands of shining hair, the full, calm lips of
+the lady were all eloquent of splendid unemotional
+health, assisted by a careful system of hygiene.</p>
+
+<p>She was opening her letters, cutting the envelopes
+carefully with a silver knife.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>
+"Shall I give you some more tea, Mother?" the
+daughter asked in a somewhat impatient voice. The
+offer was declined, and the girl rose to go. "I'm
+off now to skate with the Tremaines at Henglers," she
+said, and hurriedly left the room.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Armstrong sighed in a sort of placid wonder,
+as Minerva might have sighed coming suddenly upon
+Psyche running races with Cupid in a wood, and turned
+to another letter.</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">It was written in firm, strong writing on paper headed
+with some official-looking print.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="center"><b>
+
+THE WORLD'S WOMAN'S LEAGUE</b>
+<br />
+<span class="smcap">London Headquarters</span>,<br />
+100 <span class="smcap">Regent Street, S. W.</span></p>
+
+<p class="pinset3"><span class="smcap">secretary, miss paull</span></p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Charlotte</span>,&mdash;I should be extremely
+glad to see you here to-day about lunch time. I must
+have a long and important talk with you. The work
+is in a bad way. I know you are extremely busy, but
+trust to see you as the matters for conference are
+urgent. Your affectionate Sister,</p>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left:10em">"<span class="smcap">Catherine Paull</span>."</span>
+
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p2">Miss Paull was a well-known figure in what may be
+called "executive" life. Both she and her elder sister,
+Mrs. Armstrong, had been daughters of an Oxford
+tutor, and had become immersed in public affairs early
+in life. While the elder became a famous novelist and
+leader of "cultured doubt," the younger had remained
+unmarried and thrown herself with great eagerness into
+the movement which had for its object the strengthening
+of woman's position and the lightening of her burdens,
+no less in England than over the whole world.</p>
+
+<p>The "World's Woman's League" was a great unsectarian
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>
+society with tentacles all over the globe. The
+Indian lady missionaries and doctors, who worked in
+the zenanas, were affiliated to it. The English and
+American vigilance societies for the safe-guarding of
+girls, the women of the furtive students' clubs in Russia,
+the Melbourne society for the supply of domestic workers
+in the lonely up-country stations of Australia, all,
+while having their own corporate and separate existences,
+were affiliated to, and in communication with,
+the central offices of the League in Regent Street.</p>
+
+<p>The League was all-embracing. Christian, non-Christian,
+or heathen, it mattered nothing. It aimed at the
+gigantic task of centralising all the societies for the welfare
+of women throughout the globe.</p>
+
+<p>On the board of directors one found the names and
+titles of all the humanitarians of Europe.</p>
+
+<p>The working head of this vast organisation was the
+thin, active woman of middle age whose name figured
+in a hundred blue-books, whose speeches and articles
+were sometimes of international importance, whose
+political power was undoubtable&mdash;Miss Catherine Paull.</p>
+
+<p>The most important function of the League, or one
+of its most important functions, was the yearly publication
+of a huge report or statement of more than
+a thousand pages. This annual was recognised universally
+as the most trustworthy and valuable summary
+of the progress of women in the world. It
+was quoted in Parliament a hundred times each session;
+its figures were regarded as authoritative in
+every way.</p>
+
+<p>This report was published every May, and as Mrs.
+Hubert Armstrong drove to Regent Street in her brougham
+she realised that points in connection with it were
+to be discussed, possibly with the various sectional
+editors, possibly with Miss Paull alone.</p>
+
+<p>As was natural, so distinguished an example of the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>
+"higher woman" as Mrs. Armstrong was a great help to
+the League, and her near relationship to the secretary
+made her help and advice in constant request.</p>
+
+<p>The office occupied two extensive floors in the quadrant,
+housing an army of women clerks, typewriters, and
+a literary staff almost exclusively feminine. Here, from
+morning till night, was a hum of busy activity quite
+foreign to the office controlled by the more drone-like
+men. Miss Paull contrived to interest the most insignificant
+of her girls in the work that was to be done,
+making each one feel that in the performance of her
+task lay not only the means of earning a weekly wage,
+but of doing something for women all over the world.</p>
+
+<p>In short, the League was an admirable and powerful
+institution, presided over by an admirable and earnest
+woman of wonderful organising ability and the gift of
+tact, that <i>extreme</i> tact necessary in dealing with hundreds
+of societies officered and ruled by women whose
+official activities did not always quell that feminine
+jealousy and bickering which generally militate against
+success.</p>
+
+<p>It was some weeks since Mrs. Armstrong had seen her
+sister or communicated with her. The great events in
+Jerusalem, the chaos into which the holders of the old
+creeds had been thrown, had meant a series of platform
+and journalistic triumphs for the novelist. Her importance
+had increased a thousand-fold, her presence was
+demanded everywhere, and she had quite lost touch
+with the League for a time.</p>
+
+<p>As she entered her sister's room she was beaming
+with satisfaction at the memory of the past few weeks,
+and anticipating with pleasure the congratulations that
+would be forthcoming. Miss Paull, in the main, agreed
+with her sister's opinions, though her extraordinarily
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>
+strenuous life and busy activities in other directions
+prevented her public adherence to them.</p>
+
+<p>Moreover, her position as head of the League, which
+included so many definitely Christian societies, made it
+inadvisable for her to take a prominent controversial
+part as Mrs. Armstrong did.</p>
+
+<p>The secretary's room was large and well lit by double
+windows, which prevented the roar of the Regent Street
+traffic from becoming too obtrusive.</p>
+
+<p>Except that there was some evidence of order and
+neatness on the three great writing-tables, and that the
+books on the shelves were all in their places, there was
+nothing to distinguish the place from the private room
+of a busy solicitor or merchant.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the only thing which gave the place any really
+individual note was a large brass kettle, which droned on
+the fire, and a sort of sideboard with a good many teacups
+and a glass jar full of what seemed to be sponge cakes.</p>
+
+<p>The two women greeted each other affectionately.
+Then Miss Paull sent away her secretary, who had been
+writing with her, expressing her desire to be quite alone
+for an hour or more.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to discuss the report with you, Charlotte,"
+said Miss Paull, deftly pouring some hot water into a
+green stone-ware teapot.</p>
+
+<p>She removed her <i>pince-nez,</i> which had become clouded
+with the steam, and waited for Mrs. Armstrong to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"I expected that was it when I got your note, dear,"
+said the novelist. "I am sorry I have been so much
+away of late. But, of course, you will have seen how
+my time has been taken up. Since all Our contentions
+have been so remarkably established, of course one is
+looked to a great deal. I have to be everywhere just at
+present. <i>John Mulgrave</i> has been through three more
+editions during the last fortnight."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Charlotte," answered the sister, "one hears of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>
+you on all sides. It is a wonderful triumph from one
+point of view."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Armstrong looked up quickly, with surprise in
+her eyes. There was a strange lack of enthusiasm in the
+secretary's tone. Indeed, it was even less than unenthusiastic;
+it hinted almost of dislike, nearly of dismay.</p>
+
+<p>It could not be jealousy of the blaze of notoriety
+which had fallen upon Mrs. Armstrong, the lady knew
+her sister too well for that. For one brief moment she
+allowed herself the unworthy suspicion that Miss Paull
+had been harbouring Christian leanings, or had, in the
+stress and worry of overwork, permitted herself a sentimental
+adherence to the Christ-myth.</p>
+
+<p>But it was only for a single moment that such thoughts
+remained in her brain. She dismissed them at once as
+disloyal to her sister and undignified for herself.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't quite understand, Catherine," she said.
+"Surely from <i>every</i> point of view this glorious vindication
+of the truth is of <i>incalculable</i> benefit to mankind.
+How can it be otherwise? Now that we know the great
+teacher Jesus&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She was beginning somewhat on the lines of her public
+utterances, with a slightly inspired look which, though
+habit had made mechanical, was still sincere, when her
+sister checked her with some asperity.</p>
+
+<p>"That is all well and good," she said, her rather
+sharp, animated features becoming more harsh and
+eager as she spoke. "You, Charlotte, are at the moment
+concerned with the future and with abstractions.
+I am busied with the present and with <i>facts</i>. However
+I may share your gladness at this vindication, in my
+official capacity, and more, in the interests of my life
+work, I am bound to deplore what has happened. I
+deplore it grievously."</p>
+
+<p>Placid and equable as was her usual temper of mind,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>
+Mrs. Armstrong was hardly proof against such a sweeping
+assertion as this.</p>
+
+<p>Her face flushed slightly.</p>
+
+<p>"Please explain," she said somewhat coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"That is why I wanted you to come to-day," answered
+Miss Paull. "I very much fear you will be more than
+startled at what I have to tell you and show you. My
+facts are all ready&mdash;piteous, heart-breaking facts, too.
+<i>We</i> know, here, what is going on below the surface. <i>We</i>
+are confronted by statistics, and theories pale before
+them. Our system is perfect."</p>
+
+<p>She made a movement of her arm and pointed to a
+small adjacent table, on which were arranged various
+documents for inspection.</p>
+
+<p>The novelist followed the glance, curiously disturbed
+by the sadness of the other's voice and the bitterness of
+her manner. "Show me what you mean, dear," she said.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Paull got up and went to the table. "I will begin
+with points of local interest," she said, "that is, with
+the English statistics. In regard to these I will call
+your attention to a branch of the Social Question. First
+of all, look at the monthly map for the current month and
+the one for the month before the Palestine Discovery."</p>
+
+<p>She handed two outline maps of Great Britain and
+Ireland to her sister.</p>
+
+<p>The maps were shaded in crimson in different localities,
+the colour being either light, medium, or dark.
+Innumerable figures were dotted over them, referring to
+comprehensive marginal notes. Above each map was
+printed:</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<span class="smcap">series d.&mdash;crimes against women</span>
+</p>
+
+<p>And the month and year were written in below in violet
+ink.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Armstrong held the two maps, which were
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span>
+mounted on stiff card, and glanced from one to the
+other. Suddenly her face flushed, her eyes became full
+of incredulous horror, and she stared at her sister.
+"What is this, Catherine?" she said in a high, agitated
+voice. "Surely there is some mistake? This is terrible!"</p>
+
+<p>"Terrible, indeed," Miss Paull answered. "During
+the last month, in Wales, criminal assaults have increased
+<i>two hundred per cent</i>. In England scarcely less. In Ireland,
+with the exception of Ulster, the increase has been
+only eight per cent. I am comparing the map before
+the discovery with that of the present month. Crimes
+of ordinary violence, wife-beating and such like, have
+increased fifty per cent., on an average, all over the
+United Kingdom. We have, of course, all the convictions,
+sentences, and so forth. The local agents supply
+them to the British Protection Society, they tabulate
+them and send them here, and then the maps are made
+in this office ready for the annual report."</p>
+
+<p>"But," said Mrs. Armstrong with a shocked, pale face,
+"is it <i>certain</i> that this is a case of cause and effect?"</p>
+
+<p>"Absolutely certain, Charlotte. Here I have over a
+thousand letters from men and women interested in the
+work in all the great towns. They are in answer to direct
+queries on the subject. In order that there could
+be no possibility of any sectarian bias, the form has been
+sent to leading citizens, of all denominations and creeds,
+who are interested in the work. I will show you two
+letters at random."</p>
+
+<p>She picked out two of the printed forms which had
+been sent out and returned filled in, and gave them to
+Mrs. Armstrong. One ran:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p2b">
+"<i>Kindly state what, in your opinion, is the cause of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>
+the abnormal increase of crimes against women in Great
+Britain during the past month, as shown by the annexed map</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="inright">
+"<span class="smcap">Name.</span> &nbsp; Rev. William Carr,<br />
+"Vicar of St. Saviour's,<br />
+"Birmingtown.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>"The recent 'discovery' in Palestine, which appears
+to do away with the Resurrection of Christ, is in my
+opinion entirely responsible for the increase of crime
+mentioned above. Now that the Incarnation is on all
+hands said to be a myth, the greatest restraint upon human
+passion is removed. In my district I have found
+that the moment men give up Christ and believe in this
+'discovery,' the moment that the Virgin birth and the
+manifestation to the Magdalen are dismissed as untrue,
+women's claim to consideration, and reverence for women's
+chastity, in the eyes of these men disappear.</p>
+
+<p class="pinset10">
+"<span class="smcap">William Carr.</span>"
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Mrs. Armstrong said nothing whatever, but turned to
+the other form. In this case the name was that of a
+Manchester alderman, obviously a Jew&mdash;Moses Goldstein,
+of Goldstein &amp; Hildesheimer, chemical bleachers.</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">In a flowing business hand the following remarks were
+written:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Regrettable increase of crime due in my opinion to
+sudden wave of disbelief in Christian doctrines. Have
+questioned men in my own works on the subject. Record
+this as fact without pretending to understand it.
+Crimes of violence on increase among Jewish workmen
+also. Probably sympathetic reaction against morality,
+though as a strict Jew myself find this doubly distressing.</p>
+
+<p class="pinset10">
+"<span class="smcap">Moses Goldstein.</span>"<br />
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>"The famous philanthropist," murmured Mrs. Armstrong.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>
+The lady seemed dazed. Her usual calm volubility
+seemed to have deserted her.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a terrible blow," said Miss Paull, sadly, "and
+day by day things are getting worse as figures come in.
+It seems as if all our work has been in vain. Men seem to
+be relapsing into the state of the barbaric heathen world.
+But there is much more yet. I will read you an extract
+from Mrs. Mary P. Corbin's letter from Chicago. You
+will remember that she is the organising secretary of the
+United States branch of the League."</p>
+
+<p>She took up a bundle of closely typewritten sheets.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"'The Friend to Poor Girls' Society' in this city reports
+a most painful state of things. The work has suddenly
+fallen to pieces and become totally disorganised.
+Many of the girls have left the home and returned to
+lives of prostitution&mdash;there seems to be no restraining
+influence left. In a few cases girls have returned, after
+two or three weeks of sin, mere wrecks of their former
+selves. A&mdash;&mdash; S&mdash;&mdash; was a well-known girl on the streets
+when she was converted and brought to the home. Five
+weeks ago she went away, announcing her intention of
+resuming her former life. She has just returned in a
+dying condition from brutal ill-usage. She says that
+her former experience was nothing to what she has lately
+endured. Her words are terribly significant: '<i>I went
+back as I thought it was no use being good any more now
+that there isn't any Jesus. I thought I'd have a good old
+time. But it's not as it was. Hell's broke loose in the
+streets. The men are a million times worse than they were.
+It's hell now.</i>'</p>
+
+<p>"Another awful blow has been struck at the purity
+work. The state of the lower parts of Chicago and New
+York City has become so bad that even the municipal
+authorities have become seriously alarmed. Unmentionable
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>
+orgies take place in public. Accordingly a bill is
+to be rushed through Congress licensing so many houses
+of ill-fame in each city ward, according to the Continental
+system."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>She laid down the letter. "There is no need to read
+more than extracts," she said. "The letter is full of
+horrors. I may mention that the law against polygamy
+in the Mormon State of Utah is on the point of being
+repealed, and there can be no doubt that things will soon
+be as bad as ever there. Here is a letter from the Bishop
+of Toomarbin, who is at present in Melbourne, Australia.
+A Bill is preparing in the House of Legislature to make
+the divorce laws for men as easy and simple as possible,
+while women's privileges are to be greatly curtailed in
+this direction. In Rhodesia the mine-captains are beginning
+to flog native women quite unchecked by the
+local magistrates. English magistrates&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stop, dear," said Mrs. Armstrong, with a sudden
+gesture almost of fear. There was a craven, hunted
+look in the eyes of this well-known woman. Her face
+was blanched with pain. She sat huddled up in her
+chair. All the stately confidence was gone. That proud
+bearing of equality, and more than equality, with men,
+which was so noticeable a characteristic of her port and
+manner, had vanished.</p>
+
+<p>The white hand which lifted a cup of scalding tea to
+her lips trembled like a leaf.</p>
+
+<p>The sisters sat together in silence. They sat there,
+names famous in the world for courage, ability, resource.
+To these two, perhaps more than to any others in England,
+had been given the power of building up the great
+edifice of women's enlightened position at the present
+day.</p>
+
+<p>And now?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>
+In a moment all was changed. The brute in man was
+awake, unchained, and loose. The fires of cruelty and
+lust were lit, they heard the roaring of the fires like the
+roaring of wolves that "devour apace and nothing said."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Armstrong was terribly affected. Her keen intelligence
+told her at once of coming horrors of which
+these were but the earliest signs.</p>
+
+<p>The roaring of a great fire, louder and more menacing,
+nearer ... nearer.</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">Christ had gone from the world never to return&mdash;Christ
+Whom the proud, wishful, worldly woman had
+not believed in.... They were flogging girls, selling
+girls ... the fires grew greater and greater
+... nearer!</p>
+
+<p class="p4bc">
+<span class="smcap">mary, pity women!</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IIc" id="CHAPTER_IIc">CHAPTER II</a></h2>
+
+<h4>CYRIL HANDS REDUX</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">F</span><span class="smcap">or</span> the first two weeks after Hands's return he was
+utterly bewildered by the rush of events in which
+he must take part and had little or no time for thought.</p>
+
+<p>His days were filled by official conferences with his
+chiefs at the Exploring Society, from which important
+but by no means wealthy body he had suddenly attained
+more than financial security.</p>
+
+<p>Meeting succeeded meeting. Hands was in constant
+communication with the heads of the Church, Government,
+and Society. Interviewers from all the important
+papers shadowed him everywhere. Despite his protests,
+for he was a quiet and retiring man, photographers
+fought for him, and his long, somewhat melancholy face
+and pointed fair beard stared at him everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>He had to read papers at learned societies, and afterwards
+women came and carried him off to evening parties
+without possibility of escape.</p>
+
+<p>The Unitarians of England started a monster subscription
+for him, a subscription which grew so fast that the
+less sober papers began to estimate it day by day and to
+point out that the fortunate discoverer would be a rich
+man for life.</p>
+
+<p>Everywhere he was flattered, caressed, and made much
+of. In fact, he underwent what to some natures is the
+grimmest torture of a humane age&mdash;he became the <span class="smcap">man
+of the hour</span>. Even by Churchmen and others most
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>
+interested in denying the truth of the discovery, Hands
+was treated with consideration and deference. His own
+<i>bona fides</i> in the matter was indubitable, his long and
+notable record forbade suspicion.</p>
+
+<p>Of Gortre Hands saw but little. Their greeting had
+been cordial, but there was some natural restraint, one
+fearing the attitude of the other. Gortre, no less than
+Hands, was much away from the chambers, and the
+pair had few confidences. Hands felt, naturally enough
+under the circumstances, that he would have been more
+comfortable with Spence. He was surprised to find him
+absent, but all he was able to glean was that the journalist
+had suddenly left for the Continent upon a special
+mission. Hands supposed that Continental feeling was
+to be thoroughly tested, and that the work had fallen to
+Spence.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the invitations flowed in. The old staircase
+of the inn was besieged with callers. In order to
+escape them, Hands was forced to spend much time in
+the chambers on the other side of the landing, which
+belonged to a young barrister, Kennedy by name, who
+was able to put a spare sitting-room at his disposal.
+This gentleman, briefless and happy, was somewhat of
+the Dick Swiveller type, and it gave him intense pleasure
+to reconnoitre the opposite "oak" through the slit of
+his letter-box, and to report and speculate upon those
+who stood knocking for admission.</p>
+
+<p>How he loathed it all!</p>
+
+<p>The shock and surprise of it was not one of the least
+distressing features.</p>
+
+<p>Far away in the ancient Eastern city he had indeed
+realised the momentous nature of the strange and awful
+things he had found. But of the consequences to himself
+he had thought nothing, and of the effects on the
+world he had not had time to think.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>
+Hands had never wished to be celebrated. His temperament
+was poetic in essence, retiring in action. He
+longed to be back under the eye of the sun, to move
+among the memorials of the past with his Arab boys, to
+lie upon the beach of the Dead Sea when no airs stirred,
+and, suddenly, to hear a vast, mysterious breaker, coming
+from nowhere, with no visible cause, like some great
+beast crashing through the jungle.</p>
+
+<p>And he had exchanged all this for lunches at institutions,
+for hot rooms full of flowers and fools of women
+who said, "Oh, <i>do</i> tell me all about your delightful discovery,"
+smiling through their paint while the world's
+heart was breaking. And there was worse to come. At
+no distant date he would have to stand upon the platform
+at the Albert Hall, and Mr. Constantine Schuabe,
+M.P., Mrs. Hubert Armstrong, the writing woman&mdash;the
+whole crowd of uncongenial people&mdash;would hand him a
+cheque for some preposterous sum of money which he
+did not in the least want. There would be speeches&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>He was not made for this life.</p>
+
+<p>His own convictions of Christianity had never been
+thoroughly formulated or marked out in his brain. All
+that was mystical in the great history of Christ had
+always attracted him. He took an �sthetic pleasure in
+the beautiful story. To him more than to most men it
+had become a vivid <i>panoramic</i> vision. The background
+and accessories had been part of his daily life for years.
+It was as the figure of King Arthur and his old knights
+might be to some loving student of Malory.</p>
+
+<p>And although his life was pure, his actions gentle and
+blameless, it had always been thus to him&mdash;a lovely and
+poetic picture and no more. He had never made a personal
+application of it to himself. His heart had never
+been touched, and he had never heard the Divine Voice
+calling to him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>
+At the end of a fortnight Hands found that he could
+stand the strain no longer. His nerves were failing
+him; there was a constant babble of meaningless voices
+in his ear which took all the zest and savour from life.
+His doctor told him quite unmistakably that he was
+doing too much, that he was not inured to this gaiety,
+and that he must go away to some solitude by the sea
+and rest.</p>
+
+<p>The advice not only coincided with his own wishes,
+but made them possible. A good many engagements
+were cancelled, a paragraph appeared in the newspapers
+to say that Mr. Hands's medical adviser had insisted
+upon a thorough rest, and the man of the moment disappeared.
+Save only Gortre and the secretary of the
+Exploring Society, no one knew of his whereabouts.</p>
+
+<p>In a week he was forgotten. Greater things began to
+animate Society&mdash;harsh, terrible, ugly things. There
+was no time to think of Hands, the instrument which
+had brought them about.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor had recommended the remotest parts of
+Cornwall. Standing in his comfortable room at Harley
+Street, he expatiated, with an enthusiastic movement of
+his hand, upon the peace to be found in that lost country
+of frowning rocks and bottle-green seas, where, so far is
+it from the great centres of action, men still talk of
+"going into England" as if it were an enterprise, an
+adventure.</p>
+
+<p>Two days found him at a lonely fishing cove, rather
+than village, lodging in the house of a coast-guard, not
+far from Saint Ives.</p>
+
+<p>A few whitewashed houses ran down to the beach of
+the little natural harbour where the boats were sheltered.</p>
+
+<p>On the shores of the little "Porth," as it was called,
+the fishermen sat about with sleepy, vacant eyes, waiting
+for the signal of watchmen on the moor above&mdash;the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>
+shrill Cornish cry of "Ubba!" "Ubba!" which would
+tell them the mackerel were in sight.</p>
+
+<p>Behind the cove, running inland, were the vast, lonely
+moors which run between the Atlantic and the Channel.
+It is always grey and sad upon these rolling solitudes,
+sad and silent. The glory of summer gorse had not yet
+clothed them with a fleeting warmth and hospitality. As
+far as the eye could reach they stretched away with a
+forlorn immensity that struck cold to Hands's heart.
+Peace was here indeed, but how austere! quiet, but
+what a brooding and cruel silence!</p>
+
+<p>Every now and again the roving eye, in its search for
+incident and colour, was caught and arrested by the
+bleak engine-house of some ancient deserted mine and
+the gaunt chimney which pointed like a leaden finger to
+the stormy skies above. Great humming winds swept
+over the moor, driving flocks of Titanic clouds, an
+Olympian army in rout, before their fierce breath.</p>
+
+<p>Here, day by day, Hands took his solitary walk, or
+sometimes he would sit sheltered in a hollow of the
+jagged volcanic rocks which set round about the cove a
+barrier of jagged teeth. Down below him a hard, green
+sea boiled and seethed in an agony of fierce unrest.
+The black cormorants in the middle distance dived for
+their cold prey. The sea-birds were tossed on the currents
+of the wild air, calling to each other with forlorn,
+melancholy voices. This remote Western world resounded
+with the powerful voices of the waves; night and day
+the gongs of Neptune's anger were sounding.</p>
+
+<p>In the afternoon a weary postman tramped over the
+moor. He brought the London newspapers of the day
+before, and Hands read them with a strange subjective
+sensation of spectatorship.</p>
+
+<p>So far away was he from the world that by a paradox
+of psychology he viewed its turmoil with a clearer eye.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span>
+As poetry is emotion remembered in tranquillity, as a
+painter often prefers to paint a great canvas from studies
+and memory&mdash;quiet in his studio&mdash;rather than from the
+actual but too kinetic scene, so Hands as he read the
+news-sheets felt and lived the story they had to tell far
+more acutely than in London.</p>
+
+<p>He had more time to think about what he read. It
+was in this lost corner of the world that the chill began
+to creep over him.</p>
+
+<p>The furious sounds of Nature clamoured in his ears,
+assaulting them like strongholds; these were the objective
+sounds.</p>
+
+<p>But as his subjective brain grew clear the words his
+eyes conveyed to it filled it with a more awful reverberation.</p>
+
+<p>The awful weight grew. He began to realise with
+terrible distinctness <i>the consequences</i> of his discovery.
+They stunned him. A carved inscription, a crumbling
+tomb in half an acre of waste ground. He had stumbled
+upon so much and little more. <i>He</i>, Cyril Hands, had
+found this.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">His straining eyes day by day turned to the columns
+of the papers.</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IIIc" id="CHAPTER_IIIc">CHAPTER III</a></h2>
+
+<blockquote><h4><span class="smcap">all ye inhabitants of the world, and
+dwellers on the earth, see ye,<br /> when
+he lifteth up an ensign on the
+mountains.&mdash;isaiah xviii</span>: 3</h4></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">H</span><span class="smcap">ands</span> awoke to terrible realisation.</p>
+
+<p>The telegrams in the newspapers provided him
+with a bird's-eye view, an epitomised summary of a
+world in tumult.</p>
+
+<p>Out of a wealth of detail, culled from innumerable
+telegrams and articles, certain facts stood out clearly.</p>
+
+<p>In the Balkan States, always in unrest, a crisis, graver
+than ever before, suddenly came about. The situation
+<i>flared</i> up like a petrol explosion.</p>
+
+<p>A great revival of Mohammedan enthusiasm had
+begun to spread from Jerusalem as soon as Europe
+had more or less definitely accepted the discovery
+made by Cyril Hands and confirmed by the international
+committee.</p>
+
+<p>It was no longer possible to hold the troops of the
+Sultan in check. It was openly said by the correspondents
+that <i>instructions</i> had been sent from Yildiz Kiosk
+to the provincial Valis in both European and Asiatic
+Turkey that Christians were to be exterminated, swept
+for ever from the world.</p>
+
+<p>Telegrams of dire importance filled the columns of
+the papers.</p>
+
+<p>Hands would read in one <i>Daily Wire</i>:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span>
+"<span class="smcap">Paris</span> (<i>From our own Correspondent</i>).&mdash;The Prince of
+Bulgaria has indefinitely postponed his departure, and
+remains at the Hotel Ritz for the present. It is impossible
+for him to progress beyond Vienna. Dr. Daneff, the
+Bulgarian Premier, has arrived here. In the course of
+an interview with a representative of <i>Le Matin</i> he has
+stated the only hope of saving the Christians remaining
+in the Balkan States lies in the intervention of Russia.
+'The situation,' Dr. Daneff is reported to have said,
+'has assumed the appearance of a religious war. The
+followers of Islam are drunk with triumph and hatred
+of the "Nazarenes." The recent discoveries in Jerusalem
+simply mean a licence to sweep Christians out of
+existence. The exulting cries of "Ashahadu, l� �laha ill
+Allah" have already sounded the death-knell of our
+ancient faith in Bulgaria.' M. Daneff was extremely
+affected during the interview, and states that Prince
+Ferdinand is unable to leave his room."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Never before in the history of Eastern Europe had
+the future appeared so gloomy or the present been so
+replete with horror.</p>
+
+<p>The massacres of bygone years were as nothing to
+those which were daily flashed over the wires to startle
+and appal a world which was still Christian, at least in
+name.</p>
+
+<p>An extract from a leading article in the <i>Daily Wire</i>
+shows that the underlying reason and cause was thoroughly
+appreciated and understood in England no less
+than abroad.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"In this labyrinth of myth and murder," the article
+said, "a sudden and spontaneous outburst of hatred, of
+Mussulman hatred for the Christian, has now&mdash;owing to
+the overthrow of the chief accepted doctrine of the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span>
+Christian faith&mdash;become a deliberate measure of extermination
+adopted by a barbarous Government as the
+simplest solution of the problem in the Near East. The
+stupendous fact which has lately burst upon the world
+has had effects which, while they might have been
+anticipated in some degree, have already passed far
+beyond the bounds of the most confirmed political
+pessimist's dream.</p>
+
+<p>"From the <i>fact</i> of the Jerusalem discovery, ambitious
+agitators have hurried to draw their profit. Politicians
+have not hesitated to provoke a series of massacres, and
+by playing upon the worst forms of Mussulman fanaticism
+to organise that ghastliest system of crime upon the
+largest and most comprehensive scale. The whole thing
+is, moreover, immensely complicated by the utter unscrupulousness
+of that association universally notorious
+as the Macedonian Committee. These people, who may
+be described as a company of aspirants to the crown of
+immortality earned by other people's martyrdom, have
+themselves assisted in the work of lighting the fires
+of Turkish passion, and they have helped to provoke
+atrocities which will enable them to pose before the
+eyes of the civilised world as the interesting victims of
+Moslem ferocity."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Thus Hands read in his rock cave above the boiling
+winter sea. Thus and much more, as the cloud grew
+darker and darker over Eastern Europe, darker and
+darker day by day.</p>
+
+<p>In a week it became plain to the world that Bulgarians,
+Servians, and Armenians alike had collapsed
+utterly before the insolent exultation of the Turks. The
+spirit of resistance and enthusiasm had gone. The
+ignorant and tortured peoples had no answer for those
+who flung foul insults at the Cross.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span>
+As reflected in the newspapers, the public mind in
+England was becoming seriously alarmed at these horrible
+and daily bulletins, but neither Parliament nor
+people were as yet ready with a suggested course of
+action. The forces of disintegration had been at work;
+it seemed no longer possible to secure a great <i>body</i> of
+opinion as in the old times. And Englishmen were
+troubled with grave domestic problems also. More
+especially the great increase of the worst forms of crime
+attracted universal attention and dismay.</p>
+
+<p>Then news came which shook the whole country to its
+depths. Men began to look into each other's eyes and
+ask what these things might mean.</p>
+
+<p>Hands read:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Our special correspondent in Bombay telegraphs disquieting
+news from India. The native regiments in
+Bengal are becoming difficult to handle. The officers
+of the staff corps are making special reports to headquarters.
+Three native officers of the 100th Bengal
+Lancers have been placed under arrest, though no particulars
+as to the exact reason for this step have been
+allowed to transpire."</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>This first guarded intimation of serious disaffection in
+India was followed, two days afterwards, by longer and
+far more serious reports. The Indian mail arrived with
+copies of <i>The Madras Mail</i> and <i>The Times of India</i>,
+which disclosed much more than had hitherto come
+over the cables.</p>
+
+<p>Long extracts were printed from these journals in the
+English dailies.</p>
+
+<p>Epitomised, Hands learned the following facts. From
+a mass of detail a few lurid facts remained fixed in his
+brain.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>
+The well-meant but frequently unsuccessful mission
+efforts in Southern India were brought to a complete
+and utter stand-still.</p>
+
+<p>By that thought-willed system of communication and
+the almost flame-like mouth-to-mouth carnage of news
+which is so inexplicable to Western minds, who can only
+understand the workings of the electric telegraph, the
+whole of India seemed to be throbbing with the news of
+the downfall of Christianity, and this within a fortnight
+of the publication of the European report.</p>
+
+<p>From Cashmere to Travancore the millions whispered
+the news to each other with fierce if secret exultation.</p>
+
+<p>The higher Hinduism, the key to the native character
+in India, the wall of caste, rose up grim and forbidding.
+The passionate earnestness of the missionaries was met
+by questions they could not answer. In a few days the
+work of years seemed utterly undone.</p>
+
+<p>Europeans began to be insulted in the Punjaub as
+they had never been since the days before the Mutiny.
+English officers and civilians also began to send their
+wives home. The great P. and O. boats were inconveniently
+crowded.</p>
+
+<p>In Afghanistan there was a great uneasiness. The
+Emir had received two Russian officers. Russian troops
+were massing on the north-west frontier. Fanatics began
+to appear in the Hill provinces, claiming divine
+missions. People began to remember that every fourth
+man, woman, and child in the whole human race is a
+Buddhist. Asia began to feel a great thrill of excitement
+permeating it through and through. There were
+rumours of a new incarnation of Buddha, who would
+lead his followers to the conquest of the West.</p>
+
+<p>Troops from all over India began to concentrate near
+the Sri Ulang Pass in the Hindu-Kush.</p>
+
+<p>Simultaneously with these ominous rumours of war
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span>
+came an extraordinary outburst of Christian fanaticism
+in Russia. The peasantry burst into a flame of anger
+against England. The priests of the Greek Church not
+only refused to believe in the Palestine discovery, but
+they refused to ignore it, as the Roman Catholics of the
+world were endeavouring to do.</p>
+
+<p>They began to preach war against Great Britain for
+its infidelity, and the political Powers seized the opportunity
+to use religious fanaticism for their own ends.</p>
+
+<p>All these events happened with appalling <i>swiftness</i>.</p>
+
+<p>In the remote Cornish village Hands moved as in a
+dream. His eyes saw nothing of his surroundings, his
+face was pallid under the brown of his skin. Sometimes,
+as he sat alone on the moors or by the sea, he
+laughed loudly. Once a passing coast-guard heard him.
+The man told of it among the fishermen, and they
+regarded their silent visitor with something of awe, with
+the Celtic compassion for those mentally afflicted.</p>
+
+<p>On the first Sunday of his arrival Hands heard the
+deep singing of hymns coming from the little white
+chapel on the cliff. He entered in time for the sermon,
+which was preached by a minister who had walked over
+from Penzance.</p>
+
+<p>Here all the turmoil of the world beyond was ignored.
+It seemed as though nothing had ever been heard of the
+thing that was shaking the world. The pastor preached
+and prayed, the men and women answered with deep,
+groaning "Amens." It all mattered nothing to them.
+They heeded it no more than the wailing wind in the
+cove. The voice of Christ was not stilled in the hearts
+of this little congregation of the Faithful.</p>
+
+<p>This chilled the recluse. He could find no meaning
+or comfort in it.</p>
+
+<p>That evening he heard the daughter of the coast-guard
+with whom he lodged singing. It was a wild
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span>
+night, and Hands was sitting by the fire in his little
+sitting-room. Outside the wind and rain and waves
+were shouting furiously in the dark.</p>
+
+<p>The girl was playing a few simple chords on the
+harmonium and singing to them.</p>
+
+<p class="pinset6">
+"For ever with the Lord."<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>An untuneful voice, louder than need be, but with what
+conviction!</p>
+
+<p>Hands tried to fix his attention on the newspaper
+which he held.</p>
+
+<p>He read that in Rhodesia the mine capitalists were
+moving for slavery pure and simple. It was proposed
+openly that slavery should be the penalty for law-breaking
+for natives. This was the only way, it asserted, by
+which the labour problem in South Africa could be
+solved.</p>
+
+<p class="pinset6">
+"Life from the dead is in that word,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Tis immortality."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>It seemed that there was small opposition to this
+proposal. It would be the best thing for the Kaffir,
+perhaps, this wise and kindly discipline. So the
+proposal was wrapped up.</p>
+
+<p class="pinset6">
+"And nightly pitch my moving tent<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A day's march nearer home."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>Hands saw that, quite suddenly, the <i>old horror of
+slavery had disappeared</i>.</p>
+
+<p>This, too, was coming, then? This old horror which
+Christians had banished from the world?</p>
+
+<p class="pinset6">
+"So when my latest breath<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shall rend the veil in twain."</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span>
+Hands started. His thoughts came back to the
+house in which he sat. The girl's voice touched him immeasurably.
+He heard it clearly in a lull of the storm.
+Then another tremendous gust of wind drowned it.</p>
+
+<p>Two great tears rolled down his cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>It was midnight, and all the people in the house were
+long since asleep, when Hands picked up the last of his
+newspapers.</p>
+
+<p>It was Saturday's edition of the <i>London Daily
+Mercury</i>, the powerful rival of the <i>Wire</i>. A woman
+who had been to Penzance market had brought it
+home for him, otherwise he would have had to wait
+for it until the Monday morning.</p>
+
+<p>He gazed wearily round the homely room.</p>
+
+<p>Weariness, that was what lay heavy over mind and
+body&mdash;an utter weariness.</p>
+
+<p>The firelight played upon the crude pictures, the
+simple ornaments, the ship worked in worsted when
+the coast-guard was a boy in the Navy, the shells
+from a Pacific island, a model gun under a glass shade.
+But his thoughts were not prisoned by these humble
+walls and the humble room in which he sat. He heard
+the groaning of the peoples of the world, the tramp
+of armies, the bitter cry of souls from whom hope had
+been plucked for ever.</p>
+
+<p>He remembered the fair morning in Jerusalem when,
+with the earliest light of dawn, he had gone to work
+with his Arab boys before the heat of the day.</p>
+
+<p>From the Mosque of Omar he had heard the sonorous
+chant of the muezzin.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p2tb">
+<span class="smcap">"The night has gone with the darkness, and the day approaches with
+light and brightness!<br />
+"Praise God for securing His favour and kindness!<br />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span>
+"God is most great! God is most great! I testify that there is no god
+but God!<br />
+"I testify that Mohammed is the Apostle of God!<br />
+"Come to prayer!<br />
+"Come to security!<br />
+"Prayer is better than sleep!<br />
+"God is most great!<br />
+"There is no god but God!<br />
+"Arise, make morning, and to God be the praise!"</span><br />
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>He had heard the magnificent chant as he passed by,
+almost kneeling with his Arabs. So short a time ago!
+Hardly three months&mdash;he had kept no count of time
+lately, but it could hardly be four months.</p>
+
+<p>How utterly unconscious he had been on that radiant
+morning outside the Damascus Gate! He had seen the
+men at work, and was sitting under his sun-tent writing
+on his pad; he was just lighting a cigarette, he remembered,
+when Ionides, the foreman, had come running up
+to him, his shrewd, brown face wrinkled with excitement.</p>
+
+<p>And now, even as he sat there on that stormy midnight,
+far from the world, even now the whole globe was
+echoing and reverberating with his discovery. He had
+opened the little rock chambers, and it seemed that the
+blows of the picks had set free a troop of ruinous spirits,
+who were devastating mankind.</p>
+
+<p>Pandora's box&mdash;that legend fitted what he had done,
+but with a deadly difference.</p>
+
+<p>He could not find that Hope remained. It would
+have been better a thousand times if the hot Eastern sun
+had struck him down that distant morning on his way
+through the city.</p>
+
+<p>The awful weight, the initial responsibility rested with
+<i>him</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>He</i> alone had been the means by which the world was
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span>
+being shaken with horrors&mdash;horrors growing daily, and
+that seemed as if the end would be unutterable night.</p>
+
+<p>How the wind shrieked and wailed!</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+&#917;&#947;&#969; &#921;&#969;&#963;&#951;&#966; &#8001; &#7936;&#960;&#959; &#913;&#961;&#953;&#956;&#945;&#952;&#949;&#953;&#945;&#962;.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>The words were written in fire on his mind!</p>
+
+<p>The wind was shrieking louder and louder.</p>
+
+<p>The Atlantic boomed in one continuous burst of
+sound.</p>
+
+<p>He looked once more at the leading article in the
+paper.</p>
+
+<p>It was that article which was long afterwards remembered
+as the "Simple Statement" article.</p>
+
+<p>The writer had spoken the thought that was by this
+time trembling for utterance on the lips and in the brains
+of all Englishmen&mdash;the thought which had never been
+so squarely faced, so frankly stated before.</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">Here and there passages started out more vividly than
+the rest. The words seemed to start out and stab him.</p>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<blockquote><p>"&mdash;So much for <span class="smcap">India</span>, where, sprung from the same
+Cause, the indications are impossible to mistake.</p>
+
+<p>"Let us now turn to the <span class="smcap">Anglo-Saxon</span> sprung communities
+other than these Islands.</p>
+
+<p>"In <span class="smcap">America</span> we find a wave of lawlessness and fierce
+riot passing over the country, such as it has never known
+before.</p>
+
+<p>"The <span class="smcap">Irishmen</span> and <span class="smcap">Italians</span>, who throng the congested
+quarters of the great cities, are robbing and murdering
+<span class="smcap">Protestants</span> and <span class="smcap">Jews</span>. The <span class="smcap">United States</span>
+Legislature is paralysed between the necessity of keeping
+order and the impossibility of resolution in the face
+of this tremendous <i>bouleversement</i> of belief.</p>
+
+<p>"From <span class="smcap">Australia</span> the foremost prelate of the great
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span>
+country writes of the utter overthrow of a communal
+moral sense, and concludes his communication with the
+following pathetic words:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<i>'Everywhere,'</i> he says, <i>'I see morals, no less than the
+religion which inculcates them, falling into neglect, set aside
+in a spirit of despair by fathers and mothers, treated with
+contempt by youths and maidens, spat upon and cursed by a
+degraded populace, assailed with eager sarcasm by the polite
+and cultured.'</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p>"The terrible seriousness of the situation need hardly
+be further insisted on here. Its reality cannot be more
+vividly indicated than by the statement of a single fact.</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+"<span class="smcap">consols are down to sixty-five</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p>"&mdash;and therefore we demand, in the name of humanity,
+a far more comprehensive and representative searching
+into the facts of the alleged 'discovery' at <span class="smcap">Jerusalem</span>.
+Society is falling to pieces as we write.</p>
+
+<p>"Who will deny the reason?</p>
+
+<p>"Already, after a few short weeks, we are learning
+that the world cannot go on without Christianity. That
+is the Truth which the world is forced to realise. And
+no essay in sociology, no special pleading on the part of
+Scientists or Historians, can shake our conviction that a
+creed which, when sudden doubts are thrown upon it,
+can be the means of destroying the essential fabric of
+human society, is not the true and unassailable creed of
+mankind.</p>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p>"We foresee an immediate reaction. The consequences
+of the wave of antichristian belief are now,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span>
+and will be, so devastating, that sane men will find in
+Disbelief and its consequences a glorious recrudescence
+and assurance of Faith."</p></blockquote>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p class="p2">Hands stared into the dying fire.</p>
+
+<p>A solemn passage from John Bright's great speech on
+the Crimean War came into his mind. The plangent
+power and deep earnestness of the words were even
+more applicable now than then.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="p2tb"><i>"The Angel of Death has been abroad throughout the
+land: you may almost hear the beating of his wings.
+There is no one, as when the first-born were slain of old, to
+sprinkle with blood the lintel and two side-posts of our doors,
+that he may spare and pass on."</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p>So they were asking for another commission! Well,
+they might try that as a forlorn hope, but <i>he knew</i>
+that his discovery was real. Could <i>he</i> be mistaken
+possibly? Could that congress of the learned be all
+mistaken and imposed upon? It was not possible.
+It could not be. Would that it <i>were</i> possible.</p>
+
+<p>There was no hope, despite the newspapers. For
+centuries the world had been living in a fool's paradise.
+He had destroyed it. It would be a hundred years
+before the echoes of his deed had died away.</p>
+
+<p>But the terrible weight of the world's burden was too
+heavy for him to bear. He knew that. Not for much
+longer could he endure it.</p>
+
+<p>The life seemed oozing out of him, pressed out by
+a weight&mdash;the sensation was physical.</p>
+
+<p>He wished it was all over. He had no hope for the
+future, and no fear.</p>
+
+<p>The weight was too heavy. The outside dark came
+through the walls, and began to close in on him. His
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span>
+heart beat loudly. It seemed to rise up in his throat
+and choke him.</p>
+
+<p>The pressure grew each moment; mountains were
+being piled upon him, heavier, more heavy.</p>
+
+<p>The wind was but a distant murmur now, but the
+weight was crushing him. Only a few more moments
+and his heart would burst. <i>At last!</i></p>
+
+<p>The dark thing huddled on the hearth-rug, which the
+girl found when she came down in the morning, was
+the scholar's body.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">The newspaper he had been reading lay upon his
+chest.</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IVc" id="CHAPTER_IVc">CHAPTER IV</a></h2>
+
+<h4>A LUNCHEON PARTY</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">C</span><span class="smcap">onstantine Schuabe's</span> great room at the
+Hotel Cecil had been entirely refurnished and
+arranged for the winter months.</p>
+
+<p>The fur of great Arctic beasts lay upon the heavy
+Teheran carpets, which had replaced the summer matting&mdash;furs
+of enormous value. The dark red curtains
+which hung by windows and over doors were worked
+with threads of dull gold.</p>
+
+<p>All the chairs were more massive in material and
+upholstered warmly in soft leather; the logs in the
+fireplace crackled with white flame, amethyst in the
+glowing cavern beneath.</p>
+
+<p>However the winter winds might sweep over the
+Thames below or the rain splash and welter on the
+Embankment, no sound or sign of the turmoil could
+reach or trouble the people who moved in the fragrant
+warmth and comfort of this room.</p>
+
+<p>For his own part Schuabe never gave any attention
+to the <i>mise-en-sc�ne</i> by which he was surrounded, here
+or elsewhere. The head of a famous Oxford Street
+firm was told to call with his artists and undermen;
+he was given to understand that the best that could
+be done was to be done, and the matter was left entirely
+to him.</p>
+
+<p>In this there was nothing of the <i>parvenu</i> or of an
+ignorance of art, as far as Schuabe was concerned.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>
+He was a man of catholic and cultured taste. But experience
+had taught him that his furnishing firm were
+trained to be catholic and cultured also, that an artist
+would see to it that no jarring notes appeared. And
+since he knew this, Schuabe infinitely preferred not
+to be bothered with details. In absolute contrast to
+Llwellyn, his mind was always busy with abstractions,
+with thought and forms of thought, things that
+cannot be handled or seen. They were the real things
+for him always.</p>
+
+<p>The millionaire sat alone by the glowing fire. He
+was wearing a long gown of camel's hair, dyed crimson,
+confined round the waist by a crimson cord. In
+this easy garment and a pair of morocco slippers without
+heels, he looked singularly Eastern. The whole
+face and figure suggested that&mdash;sinister, lonely, and
+splendid.</p>
+
+<p>The morning papers were resting on a chair by his
+side. He was reading one of them.</p>
+
+<p>It announced the death from heart disease of Mr.
+Cyril Hands while taking a few days' rest in a remote
+village of Cornwall. Not a shadow of regret
+passed over the regular, impassive face. The eyes remained
+in fixed thought. He was logically going over
+the bearings of this event in his mind. How could
+it affect <i>him</i>? <i>Would</i> it affect him one way or the
+other?</p>
+
+<p>He paced the long room slowly. On the whole
+the incident seemed without meaning for him. If it
+meant anything at all it meant that his position was
+stronger than ever. The voice of the discoverer was
+now for ever silent. His testimony, his reluctant but
+convinced opinion, was upon record. Nothing could
+alter that. Hands might perhaps have had doubts
+in the future. He might have examined more keenly
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span>
+into the <i>way in which he came to examine the ground</i>
+where the new tomb was hidden. Yes, this was better.
+That danger, remote as it had been, was over.</p>
+
+<p>As his eyes wandered over the rest of the news
+columns they became more alert, speculative, and
+anxious. The world was in a tumult, which grew
+louder and louder every hour. Thrones were rocking,
+dynasties trembling.</p>
+
+<p>He sank down in his chair with a sigh, passing his
+hand wearily over his face. Who could have foreseen
+this? It was beyond belief. He gazed at the
+havoc and ruin in terrified surprise, as a child might
+who had lit a little fire of straw, which had grown
+and devoured a great city.</p>
+
+<p>It was in this very room&mdash;just over there in the
+centre&mdash;that he had bought the brain and soul of the
+arch�ologist.</p>
+
+<p>The big man had stood exactly on that spot, blanched
+and trembling. His miserable notes of hand and promises
+to pay had flamed up in this fire.</p>
+
+<p>And now? India was slipping swiftly away; a
+bloody civil war was brewing in America; Central
+Europe was a smouldering torch; the whips of Africa
+were cracking in the ears of Englishmen; the fortunes
+of thousands were melting away like ice in the sun.
+In London gentlemen were going from their clubs to
+their houses at night carrying pistols and sword-sticks.
+North of Holborn, south of the Thames, no woman was
+safe after dark had fallen.</p>
+
+<p>He saw his face in an oval silver glass. It fascinated
+him as it had never done before. He gripped the leather
+back of a chair and stared fiercely, hungrily, at the
+image. It was <i>this</i>, this man he was looking at, some
+stranger it seemed, who had done all this. He laughed&mdash;a
+dreadful, mirthless, hollow laugh. This mass of
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>
+phosphates, carbon, and water, this moving, talking
+thing in a scarlet gown, was the pivot on which the
+world was turning!</p>
+
+<p>His brain became darkened for a time, lost in an
+awful wonder. He could not realise or understand.</p>
+
+<p>And no one knew save his partner and instrument.
+<i>No one knew!</i></p>
+
+<p>The secret seemed to be bursting and straining within
+him like some live, terrible creature that longed to rush
+into light. For weeks the haunting thought had grown
+and harassed him. It rang like bells in his memory.
+If only he could share his own dark knowledge. He
+wanted to take some calm, pale woman, to hold her
+tight and tell her all that he had done, to whisper it into
+her ears and watch the mask of flesh change and shrink,
+to see his words carve deep furrows in it, sear the eyes,
+burn the colour from the lips. He saw his own face
+was working with the mad violence of his imaginings.</p>
+
+<p>He <i>wrenched</i> his brain back into normal grooves, as an
+engineer pulls over a lever. He was half-conscious of
+the simile as he did so.</p>
+
+<p>Turning away from the mirror, he shuddered as a man
+who has escaped from a sudden danger.</p>
+
+<p><i>That</i> above all things was fatal. His luxuriant Eastern
+imagination had been checked and kept in subjection
+all his life; the force of his intellect had tamed and
+starved it. He knew, none better, the end, the extinction
+of the brain that has got beyond control. No, come
+what may, he must watch himself cunningly that he did
+not succumb. A tiny speck in the brain, and then good-bye
+to thought and life for ever. He was a visitor of the
+Lancashire Asylum&mdash;had been so once at least&mdash;and he
+had seen the soulless lumps of flesh the doctors called
+"patients." ... "<i>I am the master of my fate.</i> <i>I am the
+captain of my soul</i>," he repeated to himself, and even as
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span>
+he did so, his other self sneered at the weakness which
+must comfort itself with a poet's rhyme and cling to an
+apothegm for readjustment.</p>
+
+<p>He tried to shut out the world's alarm from his mental
+eyes and ears.</p>
+
+<p>He went back to the scenes of his first triumph. They
+had been sweet indeed.</p>
+
+<p>Yes! worth all the price he had paid and might be
+called upon to pay.</p>
+
+<p>All over England his life's thought, his constant
+programme had been gloriously vindicated. They had
+hailed him as the prophet of Truth at first&mdash;a prophet
+who had cried in the wilderness for years, and who had
+at last come into his own.</p>
+
+<p>The voices of great men and vast multitudes had
+come to him as incense. He was to be the leader of
+the new religion of common sense. Why had they
+doubted him before, led away by the old superstitions?</p>
+
+<p>Men who had hated and feared him in the old days,
+had spoken against him and his doctrines as if both
+were abhorred and unclean, were his friends and servants
+now. Christians had humbled themselves to the representative
+of the new power. Bishops had consulted him
+as to the saving of the Church, and its reconstruction
+upon "newer, broader, more illuminated lines." They
+had come to him with fear&mdash;anxious, eager to confess
+the errors of the past, swift to flatter and suggest that,
+with his help, the fabric and political power of the
+Church might yet stand.</p>
+
+<p>He was shown, with furtive eyes and hesitating lips,
+from which the shame had not yet been cleansed, how
+desirable and necessary it was that in the reconstruction
+of Christianity the Church should still have a prominent
+and influential part.</p>
+
+<p>He had been a colossus among them all. But&mdash;and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span>
+he thought of it with anger and the old amazement&mdash;all
+this had been <i>at first</i>, when the discovery had flashed
+over a startled world. While the thing was new it had
+been a great question, truly the greatest of all, but it
+had been one which affected men's minds and not their
+bodies. That is speaking of the world at large.</p>
+
+<p>As has already been pointed out, only <i>religious</i> people&mdash;a
+vast host, but small beside the mass of Englishmen&mdash;were
+disturbed seriously by what had happened.
+The price of bread remained the same; beef was no
+dearer.</p>
+
+<p>During these first weeks Schuabe had been all-powerful.
+He and his friends had lived in a constant and
+stupendous triumph.</p>
+
+<p>But now&mdash;and in his frightful egoism he frowned at
+the thick black head-lines in the newspapers&mdash;the whole
+attitude of every one was changed. There was a reflex
+action, and in the noise it made Schuabe was forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>Men had more to think of now. There was no time to
+congratulate the man who had been so splendidly right.</p>
+
+<p><i>Consols were at 65!</i></p>
+
+<p>Bread was rising each week. War was imminent. On
+all sides great mercantile houses were crashing. Each
+fall meant a thousand minor catastrophes all over the
+country.</p>
+
+<p>The antichristians had no time to jeer at the Faithful;
+they must work and strain to save their own fortunes
+from the wreck.</p>
+
+<p>The mob, who were swiftly bereft of the luxuries
+which kept them in good-humour, were turning on the
+antichristian party now. In their blind, selfish unreason
+they cried them down, saying that they were responsible
+for the misery and terror that lay over the world.</p>
+
+<p>With an absolute lack of logic, the churches were
+crowded again. The most irreligious cried for the good
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span>
+old times. Those who had most coarsely exulted over
+the broken Cross now bewailed it as the most awful of
+calamities.</p>
+
+<p>Christianity was daily being terribly avenged through
+the pockets and stomachs of the crowd!</p>
+
+<p>It was bizarre beyond thinking, sordid in its immensity,
+vulgar in its mighty soulless greed, but <span class="smcap">TRUE</span>,
+<span class="smcap">REAL</span>, a <span class="smcap">FEARFUL FACT</span>.</p>
+
+<p>A stupendous <i>confusion</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Two great currents had met in a maelstrom. The din
+of the disturbance beat upon the world's ear with sickening
+clamour.</p>
+
+<p>Louder and louder, day by day.</p>
+
+<p>And the man who had done all this, the brain which
+had called up these legions from hell, which had loosed
+these fiery sorrows on mankind, was in a rich room in
+a luxurious hotel, alone there. Again the shock and
+marvel took hold of the man and shook him like a reed.</p>
+
+<p>There was a round table, covered with a gleaming
+white cloth, by the fire. The kidneys in the silver dish
+were cold, the grease had congealed. The silent servants
+had brought up a breakfast to him. He had watched
+their clever, automatic movements. Did they know <i>whom</i>
+they were attending on, what would happen&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p>His thoughts flashed hither and thither, now surveying
+a world in torture, now weaving a trivial and whimsical
+romance about a waiter. The frightful activity of his
+brain, inflamed by thoughts beyond the power of even
+that wonderful machine, began to have a consuming
+physical effect.</p>
+
+<p>He felt the grey matter bubbling. Agonising pains
+shot from temple to temple, little knives seemed hacking
+at the back of his eyes. Once again, in a wave of unutterable
+terror, the fear of madness submerged him.</p>
+
+<p>On this second occasion he was unable to recall his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span>
+composure by any effort which came from within himself.
+He stumbled into his adjoining dressing-room and
+selected a bottle from a shelf. It was bromide of potassium,
+which he had been taking of late to deaden the
+clamour and vibration of his nerves.</p>
+
+<p>In half an hour the drug had calmed him. His face
+was very pale, but set and rigid. The storm was over.
+He felt shattered by its violence, but in an artificial
+peace.</p>
+
+<p>He took a cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>As he was lighting it his valet entered and announced
+that Mr. Dawlish, his man of business, was waiting in an
+anteroom.</p>
+
+<p>He ordered that he should be shown in.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Dawlish was the junior partner of the well-known
+firm of city solicitors, Burrington &amp; Tuite. That was
+his official description. In effect he was Schuabe's
+principal man of business. All his time was taken up
+by the millionaire's affairs all over England.</p>
+
+<p>He came in quickly&mdash;a tall, well-dressed man, hair
+thin on the forehead, moustache carefully trained.</p>
+
+<p>"You look very unwell, Mr. Schuabe," he said, with
+a keen glance. "Don't let these affairs overwhelm you.
+Nothing is so dangerous as to let the nerves go in times
+like these."</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe started.</p>
+
+<p>"How are things, Dawlish?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Very shaky, very shaky, indeed. The shares of the
+Budapest Railway are to be bought for a shilling. I am
+afraid your investments in that concern are utterly lost.
+When the Bourses closed last night dealings in Foreign
+Government Stock were at a stand-still. Turkish C and
+O bonds are worthless."</p>
+
+<p>Again the millionaire started. "You bring me a
+record of disaster," he said.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span>
+"Baumann went yesterday," continued the level voice.</p>
+
+<p>"My cousin," said Schuabe.</p>
+
+<p>"The worst of it is that the situation is getting worse
+and worse. We have, as you know, made enormous efforts.
+But all attempts you have made to uphold your
+securities have only been throwing money away. The
+last fortnight has been frightful. More than two hundred
+thousand pounds have gone. In fact, an ordinary man
+would be ruined by the last month or two. Your position
+is better because of the real property in the Manchester
+mills."</p>
+
+<p>"Trade has almost ceased."</p>
+
+<p>"Close the mills down and wait. You cannot go on."</p>
+
+<p>"If I do, ten thousand men will be let loose on the
+city with nothing but the Union funds to fall back on."</p>
+
+<p>"If you don't, you will be what Baumann is to-day&mdash;a
+bankrupt."</p>
+
+<p>"I have eighty thousand cash on deposit at the Bank
+of England."</p>
+
+<p>"And if you throw that away after the rest you will
+be done for. You don't realise the situation. It <i>can't</i>
+recover. War is inevitable. India will go, I feel it.
+England is going to turn into a camp. Religion is the
+pretext of war everywhere. Take your money from the
+Bank in cash and lock it up in the Safe Deposit strong
+rooms. Keep that sum, earning nothing, for emergencies,
+then wait for the other properties to recover. It will be
+years perhaps, but you will win through in the end. The
+freehold sites of the mills are alone worth almost anything.
+It is only <i>paper</i> millionaires that are easily ruined.
+You are a great property owner. But you must walk
+very warily, even you. Who could have foreseen all
+this? I see that fellow Hands is dead&mdash;couldn't stand
+the sight of the mischief he'd done, I suppose. The
+fool! the eternal fool! why couldn't he have kept his
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span>
+sham discovery to himself? Look at the unutterable
+misery it has brought on the world."</p>
+
+<p>"You yourself, Dawlish, are you suffering the common
+fate?"</p>
+
+<p>"I? Certainly not! That is to say, I suffer of
+course, but not fatally. All my investments are in
+buildings in safe quarters. I may have to reduce rents
+for a year or two, but my houses will not be empty.
+And they are my own."</p>
+
+<p>"Fortunate man," said Schuabe; "but why <i>sham</i> discovery?"</p>
+
+<p>"Out of business hours," said the solicitor, with some
+stiffness and hesitation, "I am a Roman Catholic, Mr.
+Schuabe. Good-morning. I will send the transfer
+round for you to sign."</p>
+
+<p>The cool, machine-like man went away. The millionaire
+knew that his fortune was tottering, but it moved
+him little. He knew that his power in the country was
+nearly over, had dwindled to nothing in the stir of
+greater things around. Money was only useful as a
+means of power, and with a sure prescience he saw that
+he would never regain his old position.</p>
+
+<p>The hour was over.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever would be the outcome of these great affairs,
+the hour was past and over.</p>
+
+<p>The one glowing thought which burned within him,
+and seemed to be eating out his life, was the awful
+knowledge that he and no other man had set in motion
+this terrible machinery which was grinding up the civilised
+world.</p>
+
+<p>Day and night from that there was no relief.</p>
+
+<p>His valet again entered and reminded his master that
+some people were coming to lunch. He went away and
+began to dress with the man's help.</p>
+
+<p>The guests were only two in number. One was Ommaney,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span>
+the editor of the <i>Daily Wire</i>, the other Mrs.
+Hubert Armstrong.</p>
+
+<p>Both the lady and gentleman came in together at
+about two o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Armstrong was much changed in appearance.
+Her face had lost its serenity; her manner was quick
+and anxious; her voice strained.</p>
+
+<p>The slim, quiet editor, on the other hand, seemed to
+be untouched by worry. Quiet and inscrutable as ever,
+the only change in him, perhaps, was a slight briskness,
+an aroma rather than an actual expression of good
+humour and <i>bien-�tre</i>.</p>
+
+<p>They sat down to the meal. Schuabe, in his dark grey
+frock-coat, the careful <i>ensemble</i> of his dress no less than
+the regular beauty of his face&mdash;now smooth and calm&mdash;seemed
+to be beyond all mundane cares. Only the lady
+was ill at ease.</p>
+
+<p>The conversation at first was all of the actual news of
+the day, as it had appeared in the morning's newspapers.
+Hands's death was discussed. "Poor fellow!"
+said Mrs. Armstrong, with a sigh; "it is sad to think of
+his sudden ending. The burden was too much for him
+to bear. I can understand it when I look round upon
+all that is happening; it is terrible!"</p>
+
+<p>"Surely you do not regret the discovery of the truth?"
+said Schuabe, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"I am beginning to fear truth," said the lady. "The
+world, it seems, was not ripe for it. In a hundred years,
+perhaps, our work would have paved the way. But it is
+premature. Look at the chaos all around us. The public
+has ceased to think or read. They are reading nothing.
+Three publishers have put up the shutters during
+the week."</p>
+
+<p>The journalist interrupted with a dry chuckle. "They
+are reading the <i>Daily Wire</i>," he said; "the circulation
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span>
+is almost doubled." He sent a congratulatory glance to
+Schuabe.</p>
+
+<p>The millionaire's great holding in the paper was a
+secret known only to a few. In the stress of greater
+affairs he had half forgotten it. A swift feeling of relief
+crossed his brain as he realised what this meant to his
+tottering fortunes.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Hands!" said the editor, "he was a nice fellow.
+Rather unpractical and dreamy, but a nice fellow. Owing
+to him we had the greatest chance that any paper
+has ever had in the history of journalism. We owe him
+a great debt. The present popularity and influence of
+the paper has dwarfed, positively dwarfed, all its rivals.
+I have given the poor fellow three columns to-day; I
+wish I could do more."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you not think, Mr. Ommaney," asked Mrs. Armstrong,
+"that in the enormous publication of telegrams
+and political foreign news, the glorious fact that the
+world has at last awakened to a knowledge of the glorious
+truths of real religion is being swamped and forgotten?
+After all, what will be the greatest thing in history
+a hundred years from now? Will it not be the death of
+the old superstitions rather than a mutiny in the East or
+a war with Russia? Will not the names of the pioneers
+of truth remain more firmly fixed in the minds of mankind
+than those of generals and chancellors?"</p>
+
+<p>The editor made it quite plain that these were
+speculations with which he had nothing whatever to do.</p>
+
+<p>"It's dead, Mrs. Armstrong," he said brutally. "The
+religious aspect is utterly dead, and wouldn't sell an extra
+copy of the paper. It would be madness to touch it
+now. The public gaze is fixed on Kabul River and St.
+Petersburg, Belgrade and Constantinople. They have
+almost forgotten that Jerusalem exists. I sent out twelve
+special correspondents ten days ago."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span>
+Mrs. Armstrong sighed deeply. It was true, bitterly
+true. She was no longer of any importance in the public
+eye. No one asked her to lecture now. The mass meetings
+were all over. Not a single copy of <i>John Mulgrave</i>
+had been sold for a month. How differently she had
+pictured it all on that winter's morning at Sir Michael's;
+how brightly and gloriously it had begun, and now how
+bitter the <i>d�nouement</i>, how utterly beyond foresight?
+What was this superstition, this Christianity which in its
+death struggles could overthrow a world?</p>
+
+<p>"<i>The decisive events of the world occur in the intellect.</i>"
+Yes, but how soon do they leave their parent and outstrip
+its poor control?</p>
+
+<p>There was no need for women <i>now</i>. That was the bitterest
+thought of all. The movement was over&mdash;done
+with. A private in the Guards was a greater hero than
+the leader of an intellectual movement. What a monstrous
+<i>bouleversement</i> of everything!</p>
+
+<p>Again the lady sighed deeply.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said again, "the world was not yet strong
+enough to bear the truth. I have sold my Consols," she
+continued; "I have been advised to do so. I was investing
+for my daughter when I am gone. Newspaper
+shares are the things to buy now, I suppose! My brokers
+told me that I was doing the wisest thing. They said
+that they could not recover for years."</p>
+
+<p>"The money market is a thing in which I have very
+little concern except inasmuch as it affects large public
+issues," said the editor. "I leave it all to my city editor
+and his staff&mdash;men in whom I have the greatest possible
+trust. But I heard a curious piece of news last night. I
+don't know what it portends; perhaps Mr. Schuabe can
+tell me; he knows all about these things. Sir Michael
+Manichoe, the head of the Church political party, you
+know has been buying Consols enormously. Keith, my
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span>
+city editor, told me. He has, so it appears, invested
+enormous sums. Consols will go up in consequence.
+But even then I don't see how he can repay himself.
+They cannot rise much."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder if I was well advised to sell?" said Mrs. Armstrong,
+nervously. "They say Sir Michael never makes
+a mistake. He must have some private information."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think that is possible, Mrs. Armstrong,"
+Ommaney said. "Of course Sir Michael may very
+likely know something about the situation which is not
+yet public. He may be reckoning on it. But things are
+in such hopeless confusion that no sane speculator would
+buy for a small rise which endured for half a day. He
+would not be able to unload quickly enough. It seems
+as if Sir Michael is buying for a permanent recovery.
+And I assure you that nothing can bring <i>that</i> about.
+Only one thing at least."</p>
+
+<p>"What is that?" asked both Mrs. Armstrong and
+Schuabe together.</p>
+
+<p>The editor paused, while a faint smile flickered over
+his face. "Ah," he said, "an impossibility, of course.
+If any one discovered that 'The Discovery' was a fraud&mdash;a
+great forgery, for instance&mdash;<i>then</i> we should see a
+universal relief."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>That</i>, of course, is asking for an impossibility," said
+Mrs. Armstrong, rather shortly. She resented the somewhat
+flippant tone of the great man.</p>
+
+<p>These things were all her life. To Ommaney they
+but represented a passing panorama in which he took
+absolutely no <i>personal</i> interest. The novelist disliked
+and feared this detachment. It warred with her strong
+sense of mental duty. The highly trained journalist, to
+whom all life was but news, news, news, was a strange
+modern product which warred with her sense of what
+was fitting.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span>
+"You're not well!" said the editor, suddenly turning
+to Schuabe, who had grown very pale. His voice reassured
+them.</p>
+
+<p>It was without a trace of weakness.</p>
+
+<p>The "Perfectly, thank you" was deliberate and calm
+as ever. Ommaney, however, noticed that, with a very
+steady hand, the host poured out nearly a tumbler of
+Burgundy and drank it in one draught.</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe had been taking nothing stronger than water
+hitherto during the progress of the meal.</p>
+
+<p>The man who had been waiting had just left the room
+for coffee. After Ommaney had spoken, there was a
+slight, almost embarrassed, silence. A sudden interruption
+came from the door of the room.</p>
+
+<p>It opened with a quick push and turn of the handle,
+quite unlike the deliberate movements of any one of the
+attendants.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Robert Llwellyn strode into the room. It was
+obvious that he was labouring under some almost uncontrollable
+agitation. The great face, usually so jolly
+and fresh-coloured, was ghastly pale. There was a fixed
+stare of fright in the eyes. He had forgotten to remove
+his silk hat, which was grotesquely tilted on his head,
+showing the hair matted with perspiration.</p>
+
+<p>Ommaney and Mrs. Armstrong sat perfectly still.</p>
+
+<p>They were paralysed with wonder at the sudden apparition
+of this famous person, obviously in such urgent
+hurry and distress.</p>
+
+<p>Then, with the natural instinct of well-bred people,
+their heads turned away, their eyes fell to their plates,
+and they began to converse in an undertone upon trivial
+matters.</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe had risen with a quick, snake-like movement,
+utterly unlike his general deliberation. In a moment he
+had crossed the room and taken Llwellyn's arm in a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span>
+firm grip, looking him steadily in the face with an ominous
+and warning frown.</p>
+
+<p>That clear, sword-like glance seemed to nerve the big
+man into more restraint. A wave of artificial composure
+passed over him. He removed his hat and breathed
+deeply.</p>
+
+<p>Then he spoke in a voice which trembled somewhat,
+but which nevertheless attained something of control.</p>
+
+<p>"I am really very sorry," he said, with a ghastly attempt
+at a smile, "to have burst in upon you like this.
+I didn't know you had friends with you. Please excuse
+me. But the truth is&mdash;the truth is, that I am in
+rather a hurry to see you. I have an important message
+for you from&mdash;" he hesitated a single moment before he
+found the ready lie&mdash;"from Lord &mdash;&mdash;. There are&mdash;there
+is something going on at the House of Commons
+which&mdash;But I will tell you later on. How do you do,
+Mrs. Armstrong? How are you, Ommaney? Fearfully
+rushed, of course! We arch�ologists are the only people
+who have leisure nowadays. No, thanks, Schuabe, I
+lunched before I came. Coffee? Oh, yes; excellent!"</p>
+
+<p>His manner was noticeably forced and unnatural in its
+artificial geniality. The man, who had now entered
+with coffee, brought the tray to him, but instead of
+taking any he half filled an empty cup with K�mmel and
+drank it off.</p>
+
+<p>His hurried explanation hardly deceived the two
+shrewd people at the table, but at least it made it obvious
+that he wished to be alone with their host.</p>
+
+<p>There was a little desultory conversation over the
+coffee, in which Llwellyn took a too easy and hilarious
+part, and then Mrs. Armstrong got up to go.</p>
+
+<p>Ommaney followed her.</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe walked with them a little way down the corridor.
+While he was out of the room, Llwellyn walked
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span>
+unsteadily to a sideboard. With shaking hand he mixed
+himself a large brandy-and-soda. His shaking hands,
+the intense greed with which he swallowed the mixture,
+were horrible in their sensual revelation. The mask of
+pleasantness had gone; the reserve of good manners
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>He stood there naked, as it were&mdash;a vast bulk of a
+man in deadly fear.</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe came back and closed the door silently. He
+drew Llwellyn to the old spot, right in the centre of the
+great room. There was a wild question in his eyes
+which his lips seemed powerless to utter.</p>
+
+<p>"Gertrude!" gasped the big man. "You know she
+came back to me. I told you at the club that it was all
+right between us again?"</p>
+
+<p>An immeasurable relief crossed the Jew's face. He
+pushed his friend away with a snarl of concentrated
+disgust.</p>
+
+<p>"You come here," he hissed venomously, "and burst
+into my rooms to tell me of your petty <i>amours</i>. Have
+I not borne with the story of your lust and degradation
+enough? You come here as if the&mdash;." He stopped
+suddenly. The words died away on his lips.</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn was transformed.</p>
+
+<p>Even in his terror and agitation an ugly sneer blazed
+out upon his face. His nostrils curled with evil laughter.
+His voice became low and threatening. Something
+subtly <i>vulgar</i> and <i>common</i> stole into it. It was this last
+that arrested Schuabe. It was horrible.</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite so fast, my good friend," said Llwellyn.
+"Wait and hear my story; and, confound you! if you
+talk to me like that again, I'll kill you! Things are
+equal now, my Jewish partner&mdash;equal between us. If
+I am in danger, why, so are you; and either you speak
+civilly or you pay the penalty."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span>
+A curious thing happened. The enormous overbearing
+brutality of the man, his <i>vitality</i>, seemed to cow and
+beat down the master mind.</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe, for the moment, was weak in the hands of
+his inferior. As yet he had heard nothing of what the
+other had come to tell; he was conscious only of hands
+of cold fear knocking at his heart.</p>
+
+<p>He seemed to shrink into himself. For the first and
+last time in his life, the inherited slavishness in his blood
+asserted itself.</p>
+
+<p>He had never known such degradation before. The
+beauty of his face went out like an extinguished candle.
+His features grew markedly Semitic; he cringed and
+fawned, as his ancestors had cringed and fawned before
+fools in power hundreds of years back.</p>
+
+<p>This inexpressibly disgusting change in the distinguished
+man had its immediate effect upon his companion.
+It was new and utterly startling. He had
+come to lean on Schuabe, to place the threads of a
+dreadful dilemma in his hand, to rest upon his master
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>So, for a second or two, in loathsome pantomime the
+men bowed and salaamed to each other in the centre of
+the room, not knowing what they did.</p>
+
+<p>It was Sir Robert who pulled himself together first.
+The fear which was rushing over him in waves gave him
+back a semblance of control.</p>
+
+<p>"We must not quarrel now," he said in a swift, eager
+voice. "Listen to me. We are on the brink of terrible
+things. Gertrude Hunt came back to me, as you know.
+She told me that she was sick to death of her friends the
+priests, that the old life called her, that she could not live
+apart from me. She mocked at her sudden conversion.
+I thought that it was real. I laughed and mocked with
+her. I trusted her as I would trust myself."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span>
+He paused for a moment, choking down the immense
+agitation which rose up in his throat and half strangled
+speech.</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe's eyes, attentive and fixed, were still uncomprehending.
+Still the Jew did not see whither Llwellyn
+was leading&mdash;could not understand.</p>
+
+<p>"She's gone!" said the big man, all colour fading
+absolutely from his face. "And, Schuabe, in my mad
+folly and infatuation, in my incredible foolishness ...
+<i>I told her everything</i>."</p>
+
+<p>A sudden sharp animal moan burst from Schuabe's
+lips&mdash;clear, vibrant, and bestial in the silence.</p>
+
+<p>His rigidity changed into an extraordinary trembling.
+It was a temporary palsy which set every separate limb
+trembling with an independent motion. He waited thus,
+with an ashen face, to hear more.</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn, when the irremediable fact had passed his
+lips, when the enormous difficulty of confession was
+surmounted, proceeded with slight relief:</p>
+
+<p>"This might, you will think, be just possibly without
+significance for us. It might be a coincidence. <i>But it
+is not so, Schuabe.</i> I know now, as certainly as I can
+know anything, that she came to me, was sent to me, by
+the people who have got hold of her. <i>There has been
+suspicion for some time</i>, there must have been. We have
+been ruined by this woman I trusted."</p>
+
+<p>"But why ... how?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because, Schuabe, as I was walking down Chancery
+Lane not an hour since I saw Gertrude come out of
+Lincoln's Inn with the clergyman Gortre. They got
+into a cab together and drove away. And more: I learn
+from Lambert, my assistant at the Museum, that Harold
+Spence, the journalist, who is a member of his club and
+a friend of his, <i>left for Palestine several days ago</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"I have just heard," whispered Schuabe, "that Sir
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span>
+Michael Manichoe has been buying large parcels of
+Consols."</p>
+
+<p>"The thing is over. We must&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" said the Jew, menacingly. "All is not lost
+yet. Perhaps, the strong probability is, that only this
+Gortre knows yet. Even if anything is known to
+others, it is only vague, and cannot be substantiated
+until the man in Palestine gets a letter. Without this
+woman and Gortre we are safe."</p>
+
+<p>The Professor looked at him and understood. Nor
+was there any terror in his face, only a faint film of relief.</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes afterwards the two distinguished men,
+talking easily together, walked through the vestibule of
+the hotel, down the great courtyard and into the roaring
+Strand.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">A hotel clerk explained the celebrities to a voluble
+group of American tourists as they went by.</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_Vc" id="CHAPTER_Vc">CHAPTER V</a></h2>
+
+<h4>BY THE TOWER OF HIPPICUS</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">H</span><span class="smcap">arold Spence</span> was essentially a man of action.
+His mental and moral health depended for its
+continuance upon the active prosecution of affairs more
+than most men's.</p>
+
+<p>A product of the day, "modern" in his culture, modern
+in his ideals, he must live the vivid, eager, strenuous
+life of his times or the fibres of his brain became slack
+and loosened.</p>
+
+<p>In the absorbing interest of his first mission to the
+East Spence had found work which exactly suited his
+temperament. It was work which keyed him up to his
+best and most successful efforts.</p>
+
+<p>But when that was over, when the news that he had
+given brilliantly to the world became the world's and
+was no longer his, then the reaction set in.</p>
+
+<p>The whole man became relaxed and unstrung; he was
+drifting into a sloth of the mind and body when Gortre
+had arrived from the North with his message of Hope.</p>
+
+<p>The renewed opportunity of action, the tonic to his
+weak and waning faith&mdash;that faith which alone was able
+to keep him clean and worthy&mdash;again strung up the
+chords of his manhood till they vibrated in harmony.</p>
+
+<p>Once more Spence was in the Holy City.</p>
+
+<p>But a short time ago he was at Jerusalem as the collective
+eye of millions of Englishmen, the telegraph
+wires stretched out behind him to London.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span>
+Now he was, to all official intents, a private person,
+yet, as the steamer cast anchor in the roadstead of Jaffa,
+he had realised that a more tremendous responsibility
+than ever before rested with him.</p>
+
+<p>The last words spoken to Spence in England had been
+those of Sir Michael Manichoe. The great man was
+bidding him good-bye at Charing Cross.</p>
+
+<p>"Remember," he had said, "that whatever proof or
+help we may get from this woman, Gertrude Hunt, will
+be but the basis for you to work on in the East. We
+shall cable every result of our investigations here. Remember
+that, as we think, you have immense ability and
+resource against you. Go very warily. As I have said
+before, <i>no</i> sum is too great to sacrifice, no sacrifice too
+great to make."</p>
+
+<p>There had been a day's delay at Jaffa. It had been a
+day of strange, bewildering thoughts to the journalist.</p>
+
+<p>The "Gate of the Holy Land" is not, as many people
+suppose, a fine harbour, a thronged port.</p>
+
+<p>The navies of the ancient world which congregated
+there were smaller than even the coasting steamers of
+to-day. They found shelter in a narrow space of more
+or less untroubled water between the shelving rock of
+the long, flat shore and a low reef rising out of the sea
+parallel to the town. The vessels with timber for
+Solomon's Temple tossed almost unsheltered before the
+terraces of ochre-coloured Oriental houses.</p>
+
+<p>For several hours it had been too rough for the passengers
+on the French boat to land. More than a mile
+of restless bottle-green sea separated them from the rude
+ladders fastened to the wave-washed quay.</p>
+
+<p>There had been one of the heavy rain-storms which at
+that season of the year visit Palestine. Over the Moslem
+minarets of the town the purple tops of the central mountains
+of Judah and Ephraim showed clear and far away.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span>
+The time of waiting gave Spence an opportunity for
+collecting and ordering his thoughts, for summing up
+the situation and trying to get at the very heart of its
+meaning.</p>
+
+<p>The messagery steamer was the only one in the roads.
+Two coasting craft with rags of light brown sails were
+beating over the swell into the Mediterranean.</p>
+
+<p>The sky was cloudy, the air still and warm. Only the
+sea was turbulent and uneasy, the steamer rolled with a
+sickening, regular movement, and the anchor chains beat
+and rattled with the precision of a pendulum.</p>
+
+<p>Spence sat on the india-rubber treads of the steps leading
+up to the bridge, with an arm crooked round a white-painted
+stanchion supporting the hand-rail. A few yards
+away two lascars were working a chain and pulley, drawing
+up zinc boxes of ashes from the stoke-hold and tipping
+them into the sea. As the clinkers fell into the
+water a little cloud of steam rose from them.</p>
+
+<p>There were but few passengers on the ship, which wore
+a somewhat neglected, "off-duty" aspect. No longer
+were the cabins filled with drilled bands of tourists with
+their loud-voiced lecturing cleric in charge. Not now
+was there the accustomed rush to the main deck, the
+pious ejaculations at the first sight of Palestine, the electric
+knocking at the hearts even of the least devout.</p>
+
+<p>Nobody came to Jerusalem now from England. From
+Beyrout to Jaffa the maritime plain was silent and
+deserted, and no tourists plucked the roses of Sharon
+any more.</p>
+
+<p>A German commercial traveller, with cases of cutlery,
+from Essen, was arguing with the little Greek steward
+about his wine bill; a professional photographer from
+Alexandria, travelling with his cameras for a New York
+firm of art publishers; two Turkish officers smoking
+cigarettes; a Russian gentleman with two young sons;
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span>
+a fat man in flannels and with an unshaven chin, very
+much at home; an orange buyer from a warehouse by
+the Tower Bridge&mdash;these were the undistinguished companions
+of the journalist.</p>
+
+<p>The steward clapped his hands; <i>d�jeuner</i> was ready.
+The passengers tumbled down to the saloon. Spence
+declined the loud-voiced Cockney invitation of the fruit
+merchant and remained where he was, gazing with unseeing
+eyes at the low Eastern town, which rose and fell
+before him as the ship rolled lazily from side to side.</p>
+
+<p>There was something immensely, tremendously incongruous
+in his position. It was without precedent. He
+had come, in the first place, as a sort of private inquiry
+agent. He was a detective charged by a group of three
+or four people, a clergyman or two, a wealthy Member
+of Parliament, to find out the year-old movements&mdash;if,
+indeed, movements there had been!&mdash;of a distinguished
+European professor. He was to pry, to question, to
+deceive. This much in itself was utterly astonishing,
+strangely difficult of realisation.</p>
+
+<p>But how much more there was to stir and confuse his
+brain!</p>
+
+<p>He was coming back alone to Jerusalem. But a short
+time ago he had seen the great <i>savants</i> of Europe&mdash;only
+thirty miles beyond this Eastern town&mdash;reluctantly pronounce
+the words which meant the downfall of the Christian
+Faith.</p>
+
+<p>The gunboat which had brought them all was anchored
+in this very spot. A Turkish guard had been waiting
+yonder on the quay, they had gone along the new road
+to Jerusalem in open carriages,&mdash;through the orange
+groves,&mdash;riding to make history.</p>
+
+<p>And now he was here once more.</p>
+
+<p>While he sat on this dingy steamer in this remote
+corner of the Mediterranean, it was no exaggeration to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span>
+say that the whole world was in a state of cataclysm such
+as it had hardly, at least not often, known before.</p>
+
+<p>It was his business to watch events, to forecast whither
+they would lead. He was a Simon Magus of the modern
+world, with an electric wire and stylographic pen to
+prophesy with. He of all men could see and realise
+what was happening all over the globe. He was more
+alarmed than even the man in the street. This much
+was certain.</p>
+
+<p>And a day's easy ride away lay the little town which
+held the acre of rocky ground from which all these
+horrors, this imminent upheaval, had come.</p>
+
+<p>Again it seemed beyond the power of his brain to seize
+it all, to contain the vastness of his thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>These facts, which all the world knew, were almost too
+stupendous for belief. But when he dwelt upon the <i>personal</i>
+aspect of them he was as a traveller whose way is
+irrevocably barred by sheer precipice.</p>
+
+<p>At the very first <i>he</i> had been one mouthpiece of the
+news. For some hours the packet containing it had
+hung in the dressing-room of a London Turkish bath.</p>
+
+<p>His act had recoiled upon himself, for when Gortre
+found him in the chambers he was spiritually dying.</p>
+
+<p>Could this suspicion of Schuabe and Llwellyn possibly
+be true? It had seemed both plausible and probable
+in Sir Michael's study in London. But out here
+in the Jaffa roadstead, when he realised&mdash;or tried to
+realise&mdash;that on him might depend the salvation of the
+world.... He laughed aloud at that monstrous
+grandiloquent phrase. He was in the nineteenth century,
+not the tenth.</p>
+
+<p>He doubted more and more. Had it been any one
+else it might have been possible to believe. But he
+could not see himself in this stupendous <i>r�le</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The mental processes became insupportable; he dismissed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span>
+thought with a great effort of will and got up
+from his seat.</p>
+
+<p>At least there was some <i>action</i>, something definite to
+do waiting for him. Speculation only blurred everything.
+He would be true to the trust his friends in
+England reposed in him and leave the rest to happen
+as it was fated.</p>
+
+<p>There was a relief in that attitude&mdash;the Arab attitude.
+<i>Kismet!</i></p>
+
+<p>Griggs, the fruit merchant, came up from the saloon
+wiping his lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Bit orf," he said, "waiting like this. But the sea
+will go down soon. Last spring I had to go on to
+Beyrout, the weather was that rough. Ever tried that
+Vin de Rishon le Zion? It's a treat. Made from
+Bordeaux vines transplanted to Palestine&mdash;you'll pass
+the fields on the way up&mdash;just had a half bottle. Hallo!&mdash;look,
+there's the boat at last&mdash;old Francis Karane's
+boat. Must go and look after my traps."</p>
+
+<p>A long boat was creeping out from behind the reef.
+Spence went to his cabin to see after his light kit. It
+was better to move and work than to think.</p>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p>It was early morning, the morning after Spence's arrival
+in Jerusalem. He slept well and soundly in his
+hotel room, tired by the long ride&mdash;for he had come on
+horseback over the moonlit slopes of Ajalon.</p>
+
+<p>When at length he awoke it was with a sensation of
+mental and bodily vigour, a quickening of all his pulses
+in hope and expectation, which was in fine contrast to
+the doubts and hesitations of the Jaffa roads.</p>
+
+<p>A bright sun poured into the room.</p>
+
+<p>He got up and went to the window. There was a
+deep, unspoken prayer in his heart.</p>
+
+<p>The hotel was in Akra, the European and Christian
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span>
+quarter of Jerusalem, close by the Jaffa Gate, with the
+Tower of Hippicus frowning down upon it.</p>
+
+<p>The whole extent of the city lay beneath the windows
+in a glorious panorama, washed as it was in the brilliant
+morning light. Far beyond, a dark shadow yet, the
+Olivet range rose in background to the minarets and
+cupolas below it.</p>
+
+<p>His eye roved over the prospect, marking and recognising
+the buildings.</p>
+
+<p>There was the purple dome of the great Mosque of
+Omar, very clear against the amber-primrose lights of
+dawn.</p>
+
+<p>Where now the muezzin called to Allah, the burnt-offerings
+had once smoked in the courts of the Temple&mdash;it
+was in that spot the mysterious veil had parted in
+symbol of God's pain and death. It was in the porches
+bounding the court of the Gentiles that Christ had
+taught.</p>
+
+<p>Closer, below the Antonia Tower, rose the dark, lead-covered
+cupola of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.</p>
+
+<p>Great emotion came to him as he gazed at the shrine
+sacred above all others for so many centuries.</p>
+
+<p>He thought of that holy spot diminished in its ancient
+glory in the eyes of half the Christian world.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps no more would the Holy Fire burst forth
+from the yellow, aged marble of the Tomb at Easter
+time.</p>
+
+<p>Who could say?</p>
+
+<p>Was not he, Harold Spence, there to try that awful
+issue?</p>
+
+<p>He wondered, as he gazed, if another Easter would
+still see the wild messengers bursting away to Nazareth
+and Bethlehem bearing The Holy Flame.</p>
+
+<p>The sun became suddenly more powerful. It threw
+a warmer light into the grey dome, and, deep down,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span>
+the cold, dark waters of Hezekiah's Pool became bright
+and golden.</p>
+
+<p>The sacred places focussed the light and sprang into
+a new life.</p>
+
+<p>He made the sign of the Cross, wondering fancifully
+if this were an omen.</p>
+
+<p>Then with a shudder he looked to the left towards
+the ogre-grey Turkish battlements of the Damascus
+Gate.</p>
+
+<p>It was there, over by the Temple Quarries of Bezetha,
+the New Tomb of Joseph lay.</p>
+
+<p>Yes! straight away to the north lay the rock-hewn
+sepulchre where the great doctors had sorrowfully pronounced
+the end of so many Christian hopes.</p>
+
+<p>How difficult to believe that so short a distance away
+lay the centre of the world's trouble! Surely he could
+actually distinguish the guard-house in the wall which
+had been built round the spot.</p>
+
+<p>Over the sad Oriental city&mdash;for Jerusalem is always
+sad, as if the ancient stones were still conscious of
+Christ's passion&mdash;he gazed towards the terrible place,
+wondering, hoping, fearing.</p>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p>It was very difficult to know how to begin upon this
+extraordinary affair.</p>
+
+<p>When he had made the first meal of the day and was
+confronted with the business, with the actual fact of
+what he had to do, he was aghast at what seemed his
+own powerlessness.</p>
+
+<p>He had no plan of action, no method. For an hour
+he felt absolutely hopeless.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Robert Llwellyn, so his friends believed, had been
+in Jerusalem prior to the discovery of the New Tomb.</p>
+
+<p>The first duty of the investigator was to find out
+whether that was true.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span>
+How was he to do it?</p>
+
+<p>In his irresolution he decided to go out into the city.
+He would call upon various people he knew, friends of
+Cyril Hands, and trust to events for guiding his further
+movements.</p>
+
+<p>The rooms where Hands had always stayed were close
+to the schools of the Church Missionary Society; he
+would go there. Down in the M�ristan area he could
+also chat with the doctor at the English Ophthalmic
+Hospice; he would call on his way to the New Tomb.</p>
+
+<p>It was at The Tomb that he might learn something,
+perhaps, yet how nebulous it all was, how unsatisfying!</p>
+
+<p>He set out, down the roughly paved streets, through
+the arched and shaded bazaars&mdash;places less full of colour
+and more sombre than the markets of other Oriental
+cities&mdash;to the heart of the city, where the streets were
+bounded by the vision of the distant hills of Olivet.</p>
+
+<p>The religious riots and unrest were long since over.
+The pilgrims to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre were
+less in number, but were mostly Russians of the Greek
+Church, who still accepted the Church of the Holy
+Sepulchre as the true goal of their desires.</p>
+
+<p>The Greeks and Armenians hated each other no more
+than usual. The Turks were held in good control by a
+strong governor of Jerusalem. Nor was this a time of
+special festival. The city, never quite at rest, was still
+in its normal condition.</p>
+
+<p>The Bedouin women with their unveiled faces, tattooed
+in blue, strode to the bazaars with the butter they had
+brought in from their desert herds. They wore gaudy
+head-dresses and high red boots, and they jostled the
+"pale townsmen" as they passed them; free, untamed
+creatures of the sun and air.</p>
+
+<p>As Spence passed by the courtyard of the Church
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span>
+of the Holy Sepulchre a crowd of Fellah boys ran up to
+him with candles ornamented with scenes from the
+Passion, pressing him to buy.</p>
+
+<p>The sun grew hotter as he walked, though the purple
+shadows of the narrow streets were cool enough.
+As he left the European heights of Akra and dived
+deep into the eastern central city, the well-remembered
+scenes and smells rose up like a wall before him and
+the rest of life.</p>
+
+<p>He began to walk more slowly, in harmony with the
+slow-moving forms around. He had been to Omdurman
+with the avenging army, knew Constantinople during the
+Greek war&mdash;the East had meaning for him.</p>
+
+<p>And as the veritable East closed round him his doubts
+and self-ridicule vanished. His strange mission seemed
+possible here.</p>
+
+<p>As he was passing one of the vast ruined structures
+once belonging to the medi�val knights of St. John,
+thinking, indeed, that he himself was a veritable Crusader,
+a thin, importunate voice came to him from an
+angle of the stone-work.</p>
+
+<p>He looked down and saw an old Nuri� woman sitting
+there. She belonged to the "Nowar," the unclean pariah
+class of Palestine, who are said to practise magic arts.
+A gipsy of the Sussex Downs would be her sister in
+England.</p>
+
+<p>The woman was tattooed from head to foot. She
+wore a blue turban, and from squares and angles drawn
+in the dust before her, Spence knew her for a professional
+geomancer or fortune-teller.</p>
+
+<p>He threw her a coin in idle speculation and asked her
+"his lot" for the immediate future.</p>
+
+<p>The woman had a few shells of different shapes in
+a heap by her side, and she threw them into the figures
+on the ground.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span>
+Then, picking them up, she said, in bastard Arabic interspersed
+with a hard "K"-like sound, which marks the
+nomad in Palestine, "Effendi, you have a sorrow and
+bewilderment just past you, and, like a black star, it has
+fixed itself on your forehead. A letter is coming to you
+from over the seas telling you of work to do. And then
+you will leave this country and cross home in a steamer,
+with a story to tell many people."</p>
+
+<p>Spence smiled at the glib prophecy. Certainly it
+might very well outline his future course of action,
+but it was no more than a shrewd and obvious guess.</p>
+
+<p>He was turning to go away when the woman opened
+her clothes in front, showing the upper part of her body
+literally covered with tattoo marks, and drew out a
+small bag.</p>
+
+<p>"Stay, my lord," she said. "I can tell you much
+more if you will hear. I have here a very precious stone
+rubbed with oil, which I brought from Mecca. Now, if
+you will hold this stone in your hand and give me the
+price you shall hear what will come to you, O camel of
+the house!"</p>
+
+<p>The curious sensation of "expectation" that had been
+coming over Spence, the fatalistic waiting for chance to
+guide him which, in this wild and dream-like business,
+had begun to take hold of him, made him give the hag
+what she asked.</p>
+
+<p>There was something in clairvoyance perhaps; at any
+rate he would hear what the Nuri� woman had to say.</p>
+
+<p>She took a dark and greasy pebble from the bag and
+put it in his hand, gazing at his fingers for a minute
+or two in a fixed stare without speaking.</p>
+
+<p>When at last she broke the silence Spence noticed that
+something had gone out of her voice. The medicant
+whine, the ingratiating invitation had ceased.</p>
+
+<p>Her tones were impersonal, thinner, a <i>recitative</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span>
+"Ere sundown my lord will hear that a friend has
+died and his spirit is in the well of souls."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me of this friend, O my aunt!" Spence said in
+colloquial Arabic.</p>
+
+<p>"Thy friend is a Frank, but more than a Frank, for he
+is one knowing much of this country, and has walked the
+stones of Jerusalem for many years. Thou wilt hear of his
+death from the lips of one who will tell thee of another
+thou seekest, and know not that it is he.... Give me
+back the stone, lord, and go thy way," she broke off suddenly,
+with seeming sincerity. "I will tell thee no more,
+for great business is in thy hands and thou art no ordinary
+wayfarer. Why didst thou hide it from me, Effendi?"</p>
+
+<p>Drawing her blue head-dress over her face, the woman
+refused to speak another word.</p>
+
+<p>Spence passed on, wondering. He knew, as all travellers
+who are not merely tourists know, that no one has
+ever been quite able to sift the fraud and trickery from
+the strange power possessed by those Eastern geomancers.
+It is an undecided question still, but only the
+shallow dare to say that <i>all</i> is imposture.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p>
+
+<p>And even the London journalist could not be purely
+materialistic in Jerusalem, the City of Sorrows.</p>
+
+<p>He went on towards his destination. Not far from
+the missionary establishment was a building which was
+the headquarters of the Palestine Exploring Society in
+Jerusalem.</p>
+
+<p>Cyril Hands had always lived up in Akra among the
+Europeans, but much of his time was necessarily spent
+in the M�ristan district.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span>
+The building was known as the "Research Museum."</p>
+
+<p>Hands and his assistants had gathered a valuable collection
+of ancient curiosities.</p>
+
+<p>Here were hundreds of drawings and photographs of
+various excavations. Accurate measurements of tombs,
+buried houses, ancient churches were entered in great
+books.</p>
+
+<p>In glass cases were fragments of ancient pottery, old
+Hebrew seals, scarabs, antique fragments of jewellery&mdash;all
+the varied objects from which high scholarship and
+expert training was gradually, year by year, providing
+a luminous and entirely fresh commentary on Holy
+Writ.</p>
+
+<p>Here, in short, were the tools of what is known as
+the "Higher Criticism."</p>
+
+<p>Attached to the museum was a library and drawing
+office, a photographic dark room, apartments for the
+curator and his wife. A man who engaged the native
+labour required for the excavations superintended the
+work of the men and acted as general agent and intermediary
+between the European officials and all Easterns
+with whom they came in contact.</p>
+
+<p>This man was well known in the city&mdash;a character in
+his way. In the reports of the Exploring Society he
+was often referred to as an invaluable assistant. But a
+year ago his portrait had been published in the annual
+statement of the fund, and the face of the Greek Ionides
+in his turban lay upon the study tables of many a quiet
+English vicarage.</p>
+
+<p>Spence entered the courtyard of the building. It was
+quiet and deserted; some pigeons were feeding there.</p>
+
+<p>He turned under a stone archway to the right, pushed
+open a door, and entered the museum.</p>
+
+<p>There was a babel of voices.</p>
+
+<p>A small group of people stood by a wooden pedestal
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span>
+in the centre of the room, which supported the famous
+cruciform font found at B��r Es-seb'a.</p>
+
+<p>They turned at Spence's entrance. He saw some
+familiar faces of people with whom he had been brought
+in contact during the time of the first discovery.</p>
+
+<p>Two English missionaries, one in orders, the English
+Consul, and Professor Theodore Adams, the American
+arch�ologist, who lived all the year round in the new
+western suburb, stood speaking in grave tones and with
+distressed faces&mdash;so it seemed to the intruder.</p>
+
+<p>An Egyptian servant, dressed in white linen, carrying
+a bunch of keys, was with them.</p>
+
+<p>In his hand the Consul held a roll of yellow native
+wax.</p>
+
+<p>An enormous surprise shone out on the faces of these
+people as Spence walked up to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Spence!" said the Consul, "we never expected
+you or heard of your coming. This is most fortunate,
+however. You were his great friend. I think you both
+shared chambers together in London?"</p>
+
+<p>Spence looked at him in wonder, mechanically shaking
+the proffered hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I quite understand," he said. "I came
+here quite by chance, just to see if there was any one
+that I knew about."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you have not heard&mdash;" said the clergyman.</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Your friend, our distinguished fellow-worker, Professor
+Hands, is no more. We have just received a
+cable. Poor, dear Hands died of heart disease while
+taking a seaside holiday."</p>
+
+<p>Spence was genuinely affected.</p>
+
+<p>Hands was an old and dear friend. His sweet, kindly
+nature, too dreamy and retiring perhaps for the rush and
+hurry of Occidental life, had always been wonderfully
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span>
+welcome for a month or two each year in Lincoln's Inn.
+His quaint, learned letters, his enthusiasm for his work
+had become part of the journalist's life. They were
+recurring pleasures. And now he was gone!</p>
+
+<p>Now it was all over. Never more would he hear the
+quiet voice, hear the water-pipe bubble in the quiet old
+inn as night gave way to dawn....</p>
+
+<p>His brain whirled with the sudden shock. He grew
+very pale, waiting to hear more.</p>
+
+<p>"We know little more," said the Consul, with a sigh.
+"A cable from the central office of the Society has just
+stated the fact and asked me to take official charge of
+everything here. We were just about to begin sealing
+up the rooms when you came. There are many important
+documents which must be seen to. Mr. Forbes,
+poor Hands's assistant, is away on the shores of the
+Dead Sea, but we have sent for him by the camel garrison
+post. But it will be some weeks before he can be
+here, probably."</p>
+
+<p>"This is terribly sad news for me," said Spence at
+length. "We were, of course, the dearest friends. The
+months when Hands was in town were always the pleasantest.
+Of course, lately we did not see so much of
+each other; he had become a public character. He was
+becoming very depressed and unwell, terrified, I almost
+think, at what was going on in the world owing to the
+discovery he had made, and he was going away to recuperate.
+But I knew nothing of this!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry," said the Consul, "to have to tell you of
+such a sad business, but we naturally thought that somehow
+you knew&mdash;though, of course, in point of time that
+would hardly be possible, or only just so."</p>
+
+<p>"I am in the East," said Spence, giving an explanation
+that he had previously prepared if it became necessary
+to account for his presence&mdash;"I am here on a
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span>
+mission for my newspaper&mdash;to ascertain various points
+about public opinion in view of all these imminent international
+complications."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so, quite so," said the Consul. "I shall be
+glad to help you in any way I can, of course. But when
+you came in we were wondering what we should do
+exactly about poor Hands's private effects, papers, and
+so on. When he went on leave all his things were
+packed in cases and sent down here from his rooms in
+the upper city. I suppose they had better be shipped to
+England. Perhaps you would take charge of them on
+your return?"</p>
+
+<p>"I expect you will hear from his brother, the Rev.
+John Hands, a Leicestershire clergyman, when the mail
+comes in," said Spence. "This is a great blow to me.
+I should like to pay my poor friend some public tribute.
+I should like to write something for English people to
+read&mdash;a sketch of his life and work here in Jerusalem&mdash;his
+daily work among you all."</p>
+
+<p>His voice faltered. His eyes had fallen on a photograph
+which hung upon the wall. A group of Arabs sat
+at the mouth of a rock tomb. In front of them, wearing
+a sun helmet and holding a ten-foot surveyor's wand,
+stood the dead professor. A kindly smile was on his
+face as he looked down upon the white figures of his
+men.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be a gracious tribute," said one of the missionaries.
+"Every one loved him, whatever their race or
+creed. We can all tell you of him as we saw him in our
+midst. It is a great pity that old Ionides has gone. He
+was the confidential sharer of all the work here, and
+Hands trusted him implicitly. He could have told you
+much."</p>
+
+<p>"I remember Ionides well," said Spence. "At the
+time of the discovery, of course, he was very much in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span>
+evidence, and he was examined by the committee. Is
+the old fellow dead, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," answered the missionary. "Some time ago,
+just after the Commission left, in fact, he came into a
+considerable sum of money. He was getting on in years,
+and he resigned his position here. He has taken an
+olive farm somewhere by Nabul�s, a Turkish city by
+Mount Gerizim. I fear we shall never see him more.
+He would grieve at this news."</p>
+
+<p>"I think," said Spence, "I will go back to my hotel.
+I should like to be alone to-day. I will call on you this
+evening, if I may," he added, turning to the Consul.</p>
+
+<p>He left the melancholy group, once more beginning
+their sad business, and went out again into the narrow
+street.</p>
+
+<p>He wanted to be alone, in some quiet place, to pay
+his departed friend the last rites of quiet thought and
+memory. He would say a prayer for him in the cool
+darkness of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.</p>
+
+<p>How did it go?</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<i>So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption,
+and this mortal shall have put on immortality; Then shall
+be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed
+up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O
+grave, where is thy victory?</i>"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Always all his life long he had thought that these were
+perhaps the most beautiful of written words.</p>
+
+<p>He turned to the right, passed the Turkish guard at
+the entrance, and went down the narrow steps to the
+"Calvary" chapel.</p>
+
+<p>The gloom and glory of the great church, its rich and
+sombre light, the cool yet heavy air, saddened his soul.
+He knelt in humble prayer.</p>
+
+<p>When he came out once more into the brilliant sunlight
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span>
+and the noises of the city he felt braver and more
+confident.</p>
+
+<p>He began to turn his thoughts earnestly and resolutely
+to his mission.</p>
+
+<p>Swiftly, with a quick shock of memory, he remembered
+his talk with the old fortune-teller. It was with
+an unpleasant sense of chill and shock that he remembered
+her predictions.</p>
+
+<p>Some strange sense of divination had told her of this
+sad news that waited for him. He could not explain or
+understand it. But there was more than this. It might
+be wild and foolish, but he could not thrust the woman's
+words from his brain.</p>
+
+<p>She knew he was in quest of some one. She said he
+would be told....</p>
+
+<p>He entered the yellow stone portico of the hotel with
+a sigh of relief. The hall was large, flagged, and cool.
+A pool of clear water was in the centre, glimmering
+green over its tiles. The eye rested on it with pleasure.
+Spence sank into a deck-chair and clapped his hands.
+He was exhausted, tired, and thirsty.</p>
+
+<p>An Arab boy came in answer to his hand-clapping.
+He brought an envelope on a tray.</p>
+
+<p>It was a cable from England.</p>
+
+<p>Spence went up-stairs to his bedroom. From his kit-bag
+he drew a small volume, bound in thick leather,
+with a locked clasp.</p>
+
+<p>It was Sir Michael Manichoe's private cable code&mdash;a
+precious volume which great commercial houses all
+over the world would have paid great sums to see, which
+the great man in his anxiety and trust had confided to
+his emissary.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly and laboriously he de-coded the message, a
+collection of letters and figures to be momentous in the
+history of Christendom.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span>
+These were the words:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<i>The woman has discovered everything from Llwellyn.
+All suspicions confirmed. Conspiracy between Llwellyn and
+Schuabe. You will find full confirmation from the Greek
+foreman of Society explorations, Ionides. Get statement of
+truth by any means, coercion or money to any amount. All
+is legitimate. Having obtained, hasten home, special steamer
+if quicker. Can do nothing certain without your evidence.
+We trust in you. Hasten.</i></p>
+
+<p class="pinset10">
+"<span class="smcap">Manichoe.</span>"<br />
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>He trembled with excitement as he relocked the code.</p>
+
+<p>It was a light in a dark place. Ionides! the trusted
+for many years! The eager helper! The traitor bought
+by Llwellyn!</p>
+
+<p>It was afternoon now. He must go out again. A
+caravan, camels, guides, must be found for a start
+to-morrow.</p>
+
+<p>It would not be a very difficult journey, but it must
+be made with speed, and it was four days, five days
+away.</p>
+
+<p>He passed out of the hotel and by the Tower of
+Hippicus.</p>
+
+<p>A new drinking fountain had been erected there, a
+domed building, with pillars of red stone and a glittering
+roof, surmounted by a golden crescent.</p>
+
+<p>Some camel drivers were drinking there. He was
+passing by when a tall, white-robed figure bowed low
+before him. A voice, speaking French, bade him good-day.</p>
+
+<p>The face of the man seemed familiar. He asked him
+his name and business.</p>
+
+<p>It was Ibrahim, the Egyptian servant he had seen at
+the museum in the morning.</p>
+
+<p>The rooms had been sealed up, and the man had been
+to the Consul's private house with the keys.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span>
+This man had temporarily succeeded the Greek Ionides.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">Spence turned back to the hotel and bade Ibrahim
+follow him.</p>
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIc" id="CHAPTER_VIc">CHAPTER VI</a></h2>
+
+<h4>UNDER THE EASTERN STARS: TOWARDS GERIZIM</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="smcap">he</span> night was cold and still, the starlight brilliant in
+the huge hollow sapphire of the sky.</p>
+
+<p>Wrapped in a heavy cloak, Spence sat at the door of
+one of the two little tents which composed his caravan.</p>
+
+<p>Ibrahim the Egyptian, a Roman Catholic, as it seemed,
+had volunteered to act as dragoman. In a few hours
+this man had got together the necessary animals and
+equipment for the expedition to Nabul�s.</p>
+
+<p>Spence rode a little grey horse of the wiry Moabite
+breed, Ibrahim a Damascus bay. The other men, a cook
+and two muleteers, all Syrians of the Greek Church, rode
+mules.</p>
+
+<p>The day's march had been long and tiring. Night,
+with its ineffable peace and rest, was very welcome.</p>
+
+<p>On the evening of the morrow they would be on the
+slopes of Ebal and Gerizim, near to the homestead of
+the man they sought.</p>
+
+<p>All the long day Spence had asked himself what
+would be the outcome of this wild journey. He was
+full of a grim determination to wring the truth from the
+renegade. In his hip pocket his revolver pressed against
+his thigh. He was strung up for action. Whatever
+course presented itself, that he would take, regardless of
+any law that there might be even in these far-away
+districts.</p>
+
+<p>His passport was specially endorsed by the Foreign
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span>
+Office; he bore a letter, obtained by the Consul, from
+the Governor of Jerusalem to the Turkish officer in
+command of Nabul�s.</p>
+
+<p>He had little doubt of the ultimate result. Money or
+force should obtain a full confession, and then, a swift
+rush for London with the charter of salvation&mdash;for it
+would be little less than that&mdash;and the engine of destruction
+for the two terrible criminals at home.</p>
+
+<p>As they marched over the plains the red anemone and
+blue iris had peeped from the herbage. The ibex, the
+roebuck, the wild boar, had fled from the advancing
+caravan.</p>
+
+<p>Eagles and vultures had moved heavily through the
+sky at vast heights. Quails, partridges, and plovers
+started from beneath the horses' feet.</p>
+
+<p>As the sun plunged away, the owls had begun to
+mourn in the olive groves, the restless chirping of the
+grasshoppers began to die away, and as the stars grew
+bright, the nightingale&mdash;the lonely song-bird of these
+solitudes&mdash;poured out his melody to the night.</p>
+
+<p>The camp had been formed under the shade of a clump
+of terebinth and acacias close to a spring of clear water
+which made the grass around it a vivid green, in pleasant
+contrast to the dry, withered herbage in the open.</p>
+
+<p>The men had dug out tree roots for fuel, and a red
+fire glowed a few yards away from Spence's tent.</p>
+
+<p>A group of silent figures sat round the fire. Now and
+then a low murmur of talk sounded for a minute and
+then died away again. A slight breeze, cool and keen,
+rustled in the trees overhead. Save for that, and the
+occasional movement of one of the hobbled horses, no
+sound broke the stillness of the glorious night.</p>
+
+<p>It was here, so Spence thought, that the Lord must
+have walked with His disciples on the journey between
+Jerusalem and Nazareth.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span>
+On such a night as this the little group may have sat
+in the vale of El Makhna in quiet talk at supper-time.</p>
+
+<p>The same stars looked down on him as they did on
+those others two thousand years ago. How real and
+true it all seemed here! How much <i>easier</i> it was to
+realise and believe than in Chancery Lane!</p>
+
+<p>Why did men live in cities?</p>
+
+<p>Was it not better far for the soul's health to be here
+alone with God?</p>
+
+<p>Here, and in such places as these, God spoke clear and
+loud to the hearts of men. He shuddered as the thought
+of his own lack of faith came back to him.</p>
+
+<p>In rapid review he saw the recent time of his hopelessness
+and shame. How utterly he had fallen to pieces!
+It was difficult to understand the pit into which he was
+falling so easily when Basil had come to him.</p>
+
+<p>Now, the love of God ran in his veins like fire, every
+sight and sound spoke to him of the Christus Consolator.</p>
+
+<p>It was more than mere cold belief, a <i>love</i> or personal
+devotion to Christ welled up in him. The figure of the
+Man of Sorrows was very near him&mdash;there was a great
+fiery cross of stars in the sky above him.</p>
+
+<p>He entered the little tent to pray. He prayed humbly
+that it might be even thus until the end. He prayed
+that this new and sweet communion with his Master
+might never fade or lessen till the glorious daylight of
+Death dawned and this sojourning far from home was
+over.</p>
+
+<p>And, in the name of all the unknown millions whom
+he was come to this far land to aid, he prayed for success,
+for the Truth to be made manifest, and for a happy
+issue out of all these afflictions.</p>
+
+<p>"And this we beg for Jesus Christ, <i>His</i> sake."</p>
+
+<p>Then much refreshed and comforted he emerged once
+more into the serene beauty of the night.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span>
+He lit his pipe and sat there, quietly smoking. Presently
+Ibrahim the Egyptian began to croon a low song,
+one of the Egyptian songs that soldiers sing round the
+camp-fires.</p>
+
+<p>The man had done his term of compulsory service in
+the past, and perhaps this sudden transition from the
+comfortable quarters in Jerusalem to the old life of
+camp-fire and <i>plein air</i> had its way with him and opened
+the springs of memory.</p>
+
+<p>This is part of what he sang in a thin, sad voice:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>Born in Galiub, since my birth, many times have I seen the Nile's waters overflow our fields.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And I had a neighbour, Sheikh Abdehei, whose daughter's face was known only to me:</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Nothing could be compared to the beauty and tenderness of Fatm�.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Her eyes were as big as coffee cups, and her body was firm with the vigour of youth.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>We had one heart, and were free from jealousies, ready to be united.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>But Allah curse the military inspector who bound my two hands,</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>For, together with many more, we were marched off to the camp.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>I was poor and had to serve, nothing could soften the inspector's heart</i>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>The drums and the trumpets daily soon made me forget my cottage and the well-wheel on the Nile.</i><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>The long-drawn-out notes vibrated mournfully in the
+night air.</p>
+
+<p>Sadly the singer put his hand to one side of his head,
+bending as if he were wailing.</p>
+
+<p>The quaint, imaginative song-story throbbed through
+many phases and incidents, and every now and again
+the motionless figures round the red embers wailed in
+sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>At last came the end, a happy climax, no less loved by
+these simple children of the desert than by the European
+novel reader.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>... So that I was in the hospital and had become most seriously ill.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>But swifter than the gazelle, the light of my life came near the hospital.</i><br /></span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And called in at the window, "Ibrahim! my eye! my heart!</i>"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>And full of joy I carried her about the camp, and presented her to all my superiors, leaving out none, from the colonel down to the sergeant</i>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>I received my dismissal, to return to Galiub and to marry</i>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>Old Abdehei was awaiting us, to bless us. <span class="padleft">God be praised</span>!</i></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>So sang Ibrahim, the converted Christian, the Moslem
+songs of his youth; for here, in El Makhna, the plain of
+Shechem, there were no missionaries with their cold reproof
+and little hymns in simple couplets.</p>
+
+<p>The fire died away, and they slept until dawn flooded
+the plain.</p>
+
+<p>When, on the next day, the sun was waning, though
+still high in the western heavens, the travellers came
+within view of the ancient city of Nabul�s.</p>
+
+<p>There was a great tumult of excitement in Spence's
+pulses as he saw the city, radiant in the long afternoon
+lights, and far away.</p>
+
+<p>Here, in the confines of this distant glittering town, lay
+the last link in the terrible secret which he was to solve.</p>
+
+<p>On either side the purple slopes of the mountains made
+a mighty frame to the terraced houses below. Ebal and
+Gerizim kept solemn watch and ward over the city.</p>
+
+<p>The sun was just sinking as they rode into the suburbs.
+It was a lovely, placid evening.</p>
+
+<p>The abundant cascades of water, which flow from great
+fissures in the mountain and make this Turkish town the
+jewel of the East, glittered in the light.</p>
+
+<p>Below them the broad, still reservoirs lay like plates of
+gold.</p>
+
+<p>They rode through luxuriant groves of olives, figs, and
+vines, wonderfully grateful and refreshing to the eye
+after the burnt brown herbage of the plain, towards the
+regular camping-ground where all travellers lay.</p>
+
+<p>In the cool of the evening Spence and Ibrahim rode
+through the teeming streets to the Governor's house.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span>
+It was a city of fanatics, so the Englishman had heard,
+and during the great Moslem festivals the members of
+the various, and rather extensive, missionary establishments
+were in constant danger. But as the two men
+rode among the wild armed men who sat in the bazaars
+or pushed along the narrow streets they were not in any
+way molested.</p>
+
+<p>After a ceremonious introduction and the delivery of
+the letter from the Governor of Jerusalem, Spence made
+known his business over the coffee and cigarettes which
+were brought immediately on his arrival.</p>
+
+<p>The Governor was a placid, pleasant-mannered man,
+very ready to give his visitor any help he could.</p>
+
+<p>It was represented to him that the man Ionides, who
+had but lately settled in the suburbs, was in the possession
+of some important secrets affecting the welfare of
+many wealthy residents in Jerusalem. These, it was
+hinted, were of a private nature, but in all probability
+great pressure would have to be put upon the Greek in
+order to receive any satisfactory confession.</p>
+
+<p>The conversation, which was carried on in French,
+ended in an eminently satisfactory way.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur will understand," said the Governor, "that
+I make no inquiry into the nature of the information
+monsieur wishes to obtain. I may or may not have my
+ideas upon that subject. The Greek was, I understand,
+intimately connected with the recent discoveries in
+Jerusalem. Let that pass. It is none of my business.
+Here I am a good Moslem, Allah be praised! it is a
+necessity of my official position."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed cynically, clapped his hands for a new
+brass vessel of creaming coffee and continued:</p>
+
+<p>"A political necessity, Monsieur, as a man of the
+world, will quite understand me. I have been in London,
+at the Embassy, and I myself am free from foolish
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span>
+prejudices. I am not Moslem in heart nor am I Christian&mdash;some
+coffee, Monsieur?&mdash;yes! Monsieur also is
+a man of the world!"</p>
+
+<p>Spence, sitting cross-legged opposite his host, had
+smiled an answering cynical smile at these words. He
+shrugged his shoulders and threw out his hands. Everything
+depended upon making a good impression upon
+this local autocrat.</p>
+
+<p>"Eh bien, monsieur avait raison-m�me&mdash;that, I repeat,
+is not my affair. But this letter from my brother of Jerusalem
+makes me of anxiety to serve your interests. And,
+moreover, the man is a Greek, of no great importance&mdash;we
+are not fond of the Greeks, we Turks! Now it is
+most probable that the man will not speak without
+persuasion. Moreover, that persuasion were better officially
+applied. To assist monsieur, I shall send Tewfik
+Pasha, my nephew, and captain commandant of the
+northern fort, with half a dozen men. If this dog will
+not talk they will know how to make him. I suppose
+you have no scruples as to any means they may employ?
+There are foolish prejudices among the Western people."</p>
+
+<p>Spence took his decision very quickly. He was a
+man who had been on many battle-fields, knew the grimness
+of life in many lands. If torture were necessary,
+then it must be so. The man deserved it, the end was
+great if the means were evil. It must be remembered
+that Spence was a man to whom the very loftiest and
+highest Christian ideals had not yet been made manifest.
+There are degrees in the struggle for saintliness; the
+journalist was but a postulant.</p>
+
+<p>He saw these questions of conduct roughly, crudely.
+His conscience animated his deeds, but it was a conscience
+as yet ungrown. And indeed there are many
+instruments in an orchestra, all tuneful perhaps to the
+conductor's beat, which they obey and understand, yet
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span>
+not all of equal eminence or beauty in the great scheme
+of the concert.</p>
+
+<p>The violin soars into great mysteries of emotion,
+calling high "in the deep-domed empyrean." The
+flutes whisper a chorus to the great story of their comrade.
+Yet, though the plangent sounding of the kettle-drums,
+the single beat of the barbaric cymbals are in one
+note and unfrequent, yet these minor messages go to
+swell the great tone-symphony and make it perfect in
+the serene beauty of something <i>directed and ordained</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Sir," said the journalist, "the man must be made to
+speak. The methods are indifferent to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that can be done; we have a way," said the
+Governor.</p>
+
+<p>He shifted a little among his cushions. A certain
+dryness came into his voice as he resumed:</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur, however, as a man of the world, will understand,
+no doubt, that when a private individual finds it
+necessary to invoke the powers of law it is a vast undertaking
+to move so ponderous a machine?... also
+it is a privilege? It is not, of course, a personal matter&mdash;<i>�a
+m'est �gal</i>. But there are certain unavoidable
+and indeed quite necessary expenses which must be
+satisfied."</p>
+
+<p>Spence well understood the polite humbug of all this.
+He knew that in the East one buys justice&mdash;or injustice&mdash;as
+one can afford it. As the correspondent of that
+great paper over which Ommaney presided, he had always
+been able to spend money like water when it had been
+necessary. He had those powers now. There was
+nothing unusual to him in the situation, nor did he
+hesitate.</p>
+
+<p>"Your Excellency," he said, "speaks with great truth
+upon these points. It is ever from a man of your Excellency's
+penetration that one hears those dicta which
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span>
+govern affairs. I have a certain object in view, and I
+realise that to obtain it there are certain necessary
+formalities to be gone through. I have with me letters
+of credit upon the bank of Lelain Delaunay et Cie., of
+Jaffa, Jerusalem, and Athens."</p>
+
+<p>"A sound, estimable house," said the Governor, with
+a very pleased smile.</p>
+
+<p>"It but then remains," said Spence, "to confer with
+the secretary of your Excellency as to the sum which is
+necessary to pay for the legal expenses of the inquiry."</p>
+
+<p>"You speak most sensibly," said the Turk. "In the
+morning I will send the captain commandant and the
+soldiers to the encampment. My secretary shall accompany
+them. Then, Monsieur, when the little preliminaries
+are arranged, you will be free to start for the
+farm of this dog Ionides. It is not more than four miles
+from your camp, and my nephew will guide you there.
+May Allah prosper your undertaking."</p>
+
+<p>"&mdash;And have you in His care," replied Spence. "I
+will now have the honour to wish your Excellency undisturbed
+rest."</p>
+
+<p>He rose and bowed. The Turkish gentleman rose also
+and shook hands in genial European fashion.</p>
+
+<p>"Monsieur," he said, with an expansive smile, "Monsieur
+is without doubt a thorough man of the world."</p>
+
+<p>That night, in the suburbs of the city, sweet and fragrant
+as the olive groves and fig trees were, cool and
+fresh as the night wind was, Spence slept but little.</p>
+
+<p>He could hear the prowling dogs of the streets baying
+the Eastern moon, the owls hooted in the trees, but it
+was not these distant sounds, all mellowed by the distance,
+which drove rest and sleep away. It was the
+imminent sense of the great issues of the morrow, a
+wild and fierce excitement which forbade sleep or rest
+and filled his veins with fire.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span>
+He could not quite realise what awful things hung
+upon the event of the coming day. He knew that his
+brain could not contain the whole terror and vastness of
+the thought.</p>
+
+<p>Indeed, he felt that <i>no</i> brain could adequately realise
+the importance of it all.</p>
+
+<p>Yet even that partial realisation of which he was
+capable was enough to drive all peace away, the live-long
+night, to leave him nothing but the plangent, burning
+thought.</p>
+
+<p>He was very glad when the cool, hopeful dawn came.</p>
+
+<p>The nightmare of vigil was gone. Action was at hand.
+He prayed in the morning air.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, from the city gates, he saw a little cavalcade
+drawing near, twelve soldiers on wiry Damascene
+horses, an officer, with the Governor's secretary riding
+by his side.</p>
+
+<p>Those preliminaries of a signed draft upon the bank,
+which cupidity and the occasion demanded, were soon
+over.</p>
+
+<p>These twelve soldiers and their commandant cost him
+two hundred pounds "English"; but that was nothing.</p>
+
+<p>If his own words were ineffective, then the cord and
+wedge must do the rest. It had to be paid for.</p>
+
+<p>The world was waiting.</p>
+
+<p>On through the olive groves and the vines laden with
+purple. On, over the little stone-bridged cascades and
+streams&mdash;sweet gifts of lordly Ebal&mdash;round the eastern
+wall of the town, crumbling stone where the mailed
+lizards were sleeping in the sun; on to the low roofs and
+vivid trees where the Greek traitor had made his home!</p>
+
+<p>At length the red road opened before them on to
+a burnt plain which was the edge and brim of the farm.</p>
+
+<p>It lay direct and patent to the view, the place of the
+great secret.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span>
+Ionides was waiting for them, under a light verandah
+which ran round the house, before they reached the
+building.</p>
+
+<p>He had seen them coming over the plain.</p>
+
+<p>A little elderly olive-skinned man, with restless eyes
+the colour of sherry, bowed and bent before them with
+terrified inquiry in every gesture.</p>
+
+<p>His gaze flickered over the arms and shabby uniforms
+of the soldiers with hate and fear in it mingled with
+a piteous cringing. It was the look which the sad
+Greek boatmen on the shores of the Bosphorus wear all
+their lives.</p>
+
+<p>Then he saw Spence and recognised him as the Englishman
+who had been the friend of Hands, and was at the
+meetings of the Conference.</p>
+
+<p>The sight of the journalist seemed to affect him like a
+sudden blow. The fear and uneasiness he had shown at
+the first sight of the Turkish soldiers were intensified a
+thousand-fold.</p>
+
+<p>The man seemed to shrink and collapse. His face
+became ashen grey, his lips parched suddenly, for his
+tongue began to curl round them in order to moisten
+their rigidity.</p>
+
+<p>With a great effort he forced himself to speak in
+English first, fluent enough but elementary, and then in
+a rush of French, the language of all Europe, and one
+with which the cosmopolitan Greek is ever at home.</p>
+
+<p>The captain gave an order. His men dismounted
+and tied up the horses.</p>
+
+<p>Then, taking the conduct of the affair into his own
+hands at once, he spoke to Ionides with a snarling contempt
+and brutality that he would hardly have used to a
+strolling street dog.</p>
+
+<p>"The English gentleman has come to ask you some
+questions, dog. See to it that you give a true answer
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span>
+and speedy. For, if not, there are many ways to make
+you. I have the warrant of his Excellency the Governor
+to do as I please with you and yours."</p>
+
+<p>The Greek made an inarticulate noise. He raised one
+long-fingered, delicate hand to his throat.</p>
+
+<p>Spence, as he watched, could not help a feeling of
+pity. The whole attitude of the man was inexpressibly
+painful in its sheer terror.</p>
+
+<p>His face had become a white wedge of fear.</p>
+
+<p>The officer spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"You will take the English pasha into a private room,"
+he said sternly, "where he will ask you all he wishes. I
+shall post two of my men at the door. Take heed that
+they do not have to summon me. And meanwhile bring
+out food and entertainment for me and my soldiers."</p>
+
+<p>He clapped his hands and the women of the house,
+who were peering round the end of the verandah, ran to
+bring pilaff and tobacco.</p>
+
+<p>Spence, with two soldiers, closely following the swaying,
+tottering figure of Ionides, went into a cool chamber
+opening on to the little central courtyard round which
+the house was built.</p>
+
+<p>It was a bare room, with a low bench or ottoman here
+and there.</p>
+
+<p>But, on the walls, oddly incongruous in such a setting,
+were some framed photographs. Hands, in a white
+linen suit and a wide Panama hat, was there; there was
+a photograph of the museum at Jerusalem, and a picture
+cut from an English illustrated paper of the Society's
+great excavations at Tell Sandahannah.</p>
+
+<p>It was odd, Spence thought gravely, that the man
+cared to keep these records of his life in Jerusalem,
+crowned as it was with such an act of treachery.</p>
+
+<p>He sat down on the ottoman. The Greek stood before
+him, cowering against the wall.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span>
+It was a little difficult to know how he should begin;
+what was the best method to ensure a full confession.</p>
+
+<p>He lit a cigarette to help his thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"What did Sir Robert Llwellyn give you?&mdash;how
+much?" he said suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>Again the look of ashen fear came over the Greek's
+face. He struggled with it before he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry that your meaning is not plain to me, sir.
+I do not know of whom you speak."</p>
+
+<p>"I speak of him whom you served secretly. It was with
+your aid that the 'new' tomb was found. But before it
+was found you and Sir Robert Llwellyn were at work
+there. I have come to obtain from you a detailed confession
+of how the thing was done, who cut the inscription?&mdash;I
+must know everything. If not, I tell you with
+perfect truth, your life is not safe. The Governor has
+sent men with me and you will be made to speak."</p>
+
+<p>He spoke with a deep menace in his tone, and at the
+same time drew his revolver from the hip pocket of his
+riding-breeches and held it on his knee.</p>
+
+<p>He had begun to realise the awful nature of this man's
+deed more and more poignantly in his presence. True,
+he was the tool of greater intelligences, and his guilt was
+not so heavy as theirs. Nevertheless, the Greek was no
+fool, he had something of an education, he had not done
+this thing blindly.</p>
+
+<p>The man crouched against the wall, desperate and
+hopeless.</p>
+
+<p>One of the soldiers outside the door moved, and his
+sabre clanked.</p>
+
+<p>The sound was decisive. With a broken, husky voice
+Ionides began his miserable confession.</p>
+
+<p>How simple it was! Wild astonishment at the ease
+with which the whole thing had been done filled the
+journalist's brain.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span>
+The tomb, already known to the Greek, the slow
+carving of the inscription at dead of night by Llwellyn,
+the new coating of <i>hamra</i> sealing up the inner chamber.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, so skilfully had the forgeries been committed,
+chance had so aided the forgers, and their secret had
+been so well preserved that the whole world of experts
+was deceived.</p>
+
+<p>In the overpowering relief of the confession Spence
+was but little interested in the details, but at length they
+were duly set down and signed by the Greek in the
+presence of the officer.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">By midnight the journalist was far away on the road to
+Jerusalem.</p>
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIIc" id="CHAPTER_VIIc">CHAPTER VII</a></h2>
+
+<h4>THE LAST MEETING</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">I</span><span class="smcap">n</span> Sir Robert Llwellyn's flat in Bond Street the electric
+bell suddenly rang, a shrill tinkle in the silence.</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe, who sat by the window, looked up with a
+strained, white face.</p>
+
+<p>Avoiding his glance, Llwellyn rose and went out into
+the passage. The latch of the door clicked, there was a
+murmur of voices, and Llwellyn returned, following a
+third person.</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe gave a scarcely perceptible shudder as this
+man entered.</p>
+
+<p>The man was a thick-set person of medium height,
+clean shaven. He was dressed in a frock-coat and carried
+a silk hat, neither new nor smart, yet not seedy nor
+showing any evidences of poverty. The man's face was
+one to inspire a sensitive or alert person with a sudden
+disgust and terror for which a name can hardly be found.
+It was an utterly abominable and black soul that looked
+out of the still rather bilious eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The eyes were much older than the rest of the face.
+They were full of a cold and deliberate cruelty and,
+worse even than this, such a hideous <i>knowledge</i> of unmentionable
+crime was there! The lips made one thin,
+wicked curve which hardly varied in direction, for this
+man could not smile.</p>
+
+<p>He belonged to a certain horrible gang who infest the
+West End of London, bringing terror and ruin to all
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span>
+they meet. These people haunt the bars and music
+halls of the "pleasure" part of London.</p>
+
+<p>It were better for a man that he had never been born&mdash;a
+thousand times better&mdash;than that he should go among
+these men. Black shame and horrors worse than death
+they bring with both hands to the bitter fools who lightly
+meet them unknowing what they are.</p>
+
+<p>Constantine Schuabe, in the moment when he saw this
+man&mdash;knowing well who and what he was&mdash;knew the
+bitterest moment of his life.</p>
+
+<p>Vast criminal that he was himself, mighty in his evil
+brain, ... he was pure; certain infamies were not
+his.... He spat into his handkerchief with an
+awful physical disgust.</p>
+
+<p>"This is my friend, Nunc Wallace," said Llwellyn,
+pale and trembling.</p>
+
+<p>The man looked keenly at his two hosts. Then he
+sat down in a chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, gentlemen," he said in correct English, but
+with a curious lack of <i>timbre</i>, of life and feeling in his
+voice&mdash;he spoke as one might think a corpse would
+speak&mdash;"I'm sorry to say that it's all off. It simply
+can't be done at any price. Even I myself, 'King of
+the boys' as they call me, confess myself beaten."</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe gave a sudden start, almost of relief it seemed.</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn cleared his throat once or twice before he
+could speak. When the words came at length there was
+a nauseous eagerness in them.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not, Wallace? Surely <i>you</i> and your friends&mdash;it
+must be something very hard that you can't manage."</p>
+
+<p>The words jostled each other in their rapid utterance.</p>
+
+<p>"Give me a drink, Sir Robert, and I'll tell you the
+reason," said the man.</p>
+
+<p>Then, with an inexpressible assumption of confidence
+and an identity of interests, which galled and stung the
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span>
+two wretched men till they could hardly bear the torture
+of it, he began:</p>
+
+<p>"You see, it's like this; we can generally calculate on
+'putting a man through it' if he's anything to do with
+racing on the Turf. I've seen a man's face kicked
+liver colour, and no one knew who did it. But this
+parson was a more difficult thing altogether. Then it
+has been very much complicated by the fact of his
+friend coming back.</p>
+
+<p>"The idea was to get into the chambers on the evening
+of this Spence's arrival and put them both through
+it. In fact, we'd arranged everything fairly well. But
+two nights ago, as I was in the American bar, at the
+Horsecloth, a man touched me on the arm. It was
+Detective Inspector Melton. He knows everything.
+'Nunc,' he said, 'sit down at one of these little tables
+and have a drink. I want to say a few words to you.'
+Well, of course I had to. He knows every one of the
+boys.</p>
+
+<p>"'Now, look here,' he said straight out. 'Some of
+your crowd have been watching the Rev. Basil Gortre of
+Lincoln's Inn; also, you've had a man at Charing Cross
+waiting for the continental express. Now, I've nothing
+against you <i>yet</i>, but I'll just tell you this. The people
+behind you aren't any guarantee for you. It's not as
+you think. This is a big thing. I'll tell you something
+more. This Mr. Gortre and this Mr. Spence you're
+waiting for are guarded night and day by order of the
+Home Secretary. It's an international affair. You can
+no more touch them than you can touch the Prince of
+Wales. Is that clear? If it's not, then you'll come
+with me at once on suspicion. I can put my finger on
+Bunny Watson'&mdash;he's my organising pal, gentlemen&mdash;'inside
+of an hour.'"</p>
+
+<p>He stopped at last, taking another drink with a shaking
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span>
+hand, watching the other two with horribly observing
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>His cleverness had at once shown him that he had
+stumbled into something far more dangerous than any
+ordinary incident of his horrid trade. A million pounds
+would not have made him touch the "business" now.
+He had come to say this to his employers now.</p>
+
+<p>The unhappy men became aware that the man was
+looking at them both with a new expression. There
+was wonder in his cold eyes now, and a sort of fear also.
+When Llwellyn had first sought him with black and
+infamous proposals, there had been none of this. <i>That</i>
+had seemed ordinary enough to him, the reason he did
+not inquire or seek to know.</p>
+
+<p>But now there was inquiry in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Both Schuabe and Llwellyn saw it, knew the cause,
+and shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>There was a tense silence, and then the creature
+spoke again. There was a loathsome confidential note
+in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, gentlemen," he said, "you've already paid
+me well for any little kindness I may have been able
+to try to do for you. I suppose, now that the little
+job is 'off,' I shall not get the rest of the sum agreed
+upon?"</p>
+
+<p>Schuabe, without speaking, made a sign to Llwellyn.
+The big man got up, went to a little nest of mahogany
+drawers which stood on his writing-table, and opening
+one of them, took from it a bundle of notes.</p>
+
+<p>He gave them to the assassin. "There, Nunc," he
+said; "no doubt you've done all you could. You
+won't find us ungrateful. But I want to ask you a
+few questions."</p>
+
+<p>The man took the notes, counted them deliberately,
+and then looked up with a gleam of satisfied greed
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span>
+passing over his face&mdash;the gleam of a pale sunbeam in
+hell.</p>
+
+<p>"Ask anything you like, sir," he said; "I'll give you
+any help I can."</p>
+
+<p>Already there was a ring almost of patronage in his
+voice. The word "help" was slightly emphasised.</p>
+
+<p>"This inspector, who is he exactly? I mean, is he
+an important person?"</p>
+
+<p>"He is the man who has charge of all the big things.
+He goes abroad when one of the big city men bunk to
+South America. He generally works straight from the
+Home Office; he's the Government man. To tell the
+truth, I was surprised to meet <i>him</i> in the Horsecloth.
+One of the others generally goes there. When <i>he</i> began
+to talk, I knew that there was something important,
+more than usual."</p>
+
+<p>"He definitely said that he knew your&mdash;backers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he did; and what's more, gentlemen, he seemed
+to know too much altogether about the business. I
+don't pretend to understand it. <i>I</i> don't know why a
+young parson and a press reporter are being looked
+after by Government as if they were continental sovereigns
+and the Anarchists were trying to get at them&mdash;no
+more than I know why two such gentlemen as you
+are wanting two smaller men put through it. But all's
+well that ends well. <i>I'm</i> satisfied enough, and I'm
+extremely glad that I got this notice in time to stop it
+off. But whatever you do, gentlemen, give up any idea
+of doing those two any harm. You couldn't do it&mdash;couldn't
+get near them. Give it up, gentlemen. Somehow
+or other, they know all about it. Be careful. Now
+I'm off. Good-day, gentlemen. Look after yourselves.
+I fear there is trouble brewing somewhere, though it
+won't come through <i>me</i>. They can't <i>prove</i> anything on
+our side."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span>
+He went slowly out of the room, back into the darkness
+of the pit whence he came, to the dark which
+mercifully hides such as he from the gaze of dwellers
+under the heavens.</p>
+
+<p>Only the police of London know all about these men,
+and their imaginations are not, perhaps, strong enough
+to let the horror of contact remain with them.</p>
+
+<p>When he had gone, Llwellyn sank heavily into a chair.
+He covered his face with his hands and moaned.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, fool that I was to try anything of the sort!"
+hissed Schuabe. "I might have known!"</p>
+
+<p>"What is the state of things, really, do you suppose?"
+said Llwellyn.</p>
+
+<p>"Imminent with doom for us!" Schuabe answered
+in a deep and melancholy voice. "It is all clear to me
+now. Your woman was set on to you by these men from
+the first. They are clever men. Michael Manichoe is
+behind them all. She got the story. Spence has been
+sent to verify it. He has got everything from Ionides.
+The Government has been told. These things have
+been going on during the last few hours. Spence has
+cabled something of his news, perhaps not all. He will
+be back to-day, this afternoon. He will have left Paris
+by now, and almost be nearing Amiens. In that train,
+Llwellyn, lies our death-warrant. Nothing can stop it.
+They will send the news all over the world to-night.
+It will be announced in London by dinner-time,
+probably."</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn groaned again. In this supreme hour of
+torture the sensualist was nearer collapse than the
+ascetic. His life told heavily. He looked up. His
+face was green-grey save where, here and there, his
+fingers had pressed into, and left red marks upon,
+the cheeks, which had lost their firmness and begun
+to be pendulous and flabby.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span>
+"What do you think must be the end?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"The end is here," said Schuabe. "What matters
+the form or manner of it? They may bring in a bill
+and hang us, they will certainly give us penal servitude
+for life, but probably we shall be torn in pieces by the
+mob. There is only one thing left."</p>
+
+<p>He made an expressive gesture. Llwellyn shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>"All is not necessarily at an end," he said. "I shall
+make a last effort to get away. I have still got the
+clergyman's clothes I wore when I went to Jerusalem.
+There will be time to get out of London before this
+evening."</p>
+
+<p>"All over the continent and America you would be
+known. There is no getting away nowadays. As for
+me, I shall go down to my place in Manchester by the
+mid-day train. There is just time to catch it. And
+there I shall die before they can come to me."</p>
+
+<p>He got up and strode away out of the flat with a set,
+stern face. Never a passing look did he give to the man
+he had enriched and damned for ever. Never a gesture
+of farewell.</p>
+
+<p>Already he was as one in the grave. Llwellyn, left to
+himself in the silent, richly furnished flat, fell into hysterical
+sobbing.</p>
+
+<p>His big body shook with the vehemence of his unnatural
+terror. His moans and cries were utterly without
+dignity or pathos. He was filled with the immense self-pity
+of the sensualist.</p>
+
+<p>It is the added torture which comes to the evil-liver.</p>
+
+<p>In the hour of blackness, every moment of physical
+gratification or sin adds its weight to the terrible burden
+which must be borne.</p>
+
+<p>This man felt that he was lost. Perhaps all hope was
+not quite dead. He called on all his courage to make a
+last attempt at escape.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span>
+He must leave this place at once. He would go first
+to his house in Upper Berkeley Street, Lady Llwellyn's
+house! His wife.</p>
+
+<p>Something strange and long forgotten moved within
+him at that word. What might not his life have been by
+her side, a life lived in open honour! What had he done
+with it all? His great name, his fame, were built up
+slowly by his long and brilliant work. Yet all the time
+that fair edifice was being undermined by secret workers.
+The lusts of the flesh were deep below the structure,
+their hammers were always slowly tapping&mdash;and
+now it was all over.</p>
+
+<p>He drove up to his own door, unlocked it, and went
+up the stairs to his own rooms.</p>
+
+<p>Though he had not been near them for weeks, he saw&mdash;with
+how keen a pang of regret&mdash;that they were swept
+and tidy, ready for his coming at any time.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">He rang the bell.</p>
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIIIc" id="CHAPTER_VIIIc">CHAPTER VIII</a></h2>
+
+<h4>DEATH COMING WITH ONE GRACE</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="smcap">he</span> door opened softly. A long beam of late winter
+sunshine which had been pouring in at the opposite
+window and striking the door with its projection of
+golden powder suddenly framed, played over, and lighted
+up the figure of Lady Llwellyn.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Robert stood in the middle of the pleasant room
+and looked at her.</p>
+
+<p>The sunlight showed up the grey pallor of her face,
+the lines of sorrow and resignation, the faded hair, the
+thin and bony hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Kate," he said in a weak voice.</p>
+
+<p>It was the first time he had called her by her name
+for many years.</p>
+
+<p>The tired face lit up with a swift and divine tenderness.</p>
+
+<p>She made a step forward into the room.</p>
+
+<p>He was swaying a little, giddy, it seemed.</p>
+
+<p>She looked him full in the face and saw things there
+which she had never seen before. A great horror was
+upon him, a frightful awakening from the long, sensual
+sloth of his life.</p>
+
+<p>Moving, working, in that great countenance, generally
+so impassive, uninfluenced by any emotion&mdash;at least to
+her long watchings&mdash;except by a moody irritation, she
+saw Doom, Fate, the Call of the Eumenides.</p>
+
+<p>It came to the poor woman in a sudden wave of illuminating
+certainty.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span>
+She <i>knew</i> the end had come.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, strangely enough, she felt nothing but a
+quickening of the pulses, a swift embracing pity which
+was almost a joy in its breaking away of barriers.</p>
+
+<p>If the end were here, it should be together&mdash;at last
+together.</p>
+
+<p>For she loved this cruel, sinning man, this lover of
+light loves, this man of purple, fine linen, and the
+sparkling deadly wines of life.</p>
+
+<p>"Kate!"</p>
+
+<p>He said it once more.</p>
+
+<p>Her manner changed. Shrinking, timidity, fear, fled
+for ever. In her overpowering rush of protecting love
+all the diffidences of temperament, all the bars which
+he had forced her to build around her instincts, were
+swept utterly away.</p>
+
+<p>She went quickly up to him, folded him in her arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Robert!" she said, "poor boy, the end has come
+to it all. I knew it must come some day. Well, we have
+not been happy. I wonder if <i>you</i> have been happy?
+No, I don't think so. But now, Robert, you have me to
+comfort you with my love once more, my poor Robert,
+once more, as in the old, simple days when we were
+young."</p>
+
+<p>She led him to a couch.</p>
+
+<p>He trembled violently. His decision of movement
+seemed to have gone. His purpose of flight had for
+the moment become obscure.</p>
+
+<p>And now, into this man's heart came a remorse and
+regret so awful, a realisation so sudden and strong, so
+instinct with a pain for which there is no name, that
+everything before his eyes turned to burning fire.</p>
+
+<p>The flames of his agony burnt up the veils which had
+for so long obscured the truth. They shrivelled and
+vanished.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span>
+Too late, too late, he knew what he had lost.</p>
+
+<p>The last agony wrenched his brain round again to
+another and more terrible contemplation.</p>
+
+<p>His thoughts were in other and outside hands, which
+pulled his brain from one scene to another as a man
+moves the eye of the camera obscura to different fields
+of view.</p>
+
+<p>Incredible as it may seem, for the first time Llwellyn
+<i>realised what he had done</i>&mdash;realised, that is, in its entirety,
+the whole horror and consequences of that action of his
+which was to kill him now.</p>
+
+<p>He had not <i>been able</i> to see the magnitude and extent
+of his crime before&mdash;either at the time when it was proposed
+to him, except at the first moment of speech, or
+after its committal.</p>
+
+<p>His brain and temperament had been wrapped round
+in the hideous fact of sensuality, which deadens and
+destroys sensation.</p>
+
+<p>And now, with his wife's thin arms round him, her
+withered cheek pressed to his, her words of glad love, a
+martyr's swan song in his ears, he <i>saw</i>, <i>knew</i>, and <i>understood</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Through the terror of his thoughts her words began to
+penetrate.</p>
+
+<p>"I know, Robert&mdash;husband, I know. The end is
+here. But what has happened? Tell me everything,
+that I may comfort you the more. Tell me, Robert, <i>for
+the dear Christ's sake</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>At those words the man stiffened. "For the dear
+Christ's sake!"</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, in the disorder and tumult of his tortured
+brain, came, quite foolishly and inconsequently, a quotation
+from an old French romance&mdash;full of satire and
+the keen cynicism of a period&mdash;which he had been
+reading:</p>
+
+<p class="pinset8"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span>
+"<i>'Tres volontiers,' repartit le d�mon.<br />
+'Vous aimez les tableaux changeans;<br />
+Je veux vous contenter.'</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Yes! the devil who was torturing him now had
+shown him many moving aspects of life. <i>Les tableaux
+changeans!</i></p>
+
+<p>But now, at last, here was the worst moment of all.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>For the dear Christ's sake, tell me, Robert!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>How could he tell <i>this</i>?</p>
+
+<p>This was his last moment of peace, his last chance of
+any help or hope.</p>
+
+<p>He had begun to cling to her, to mingle foolish tears
+with hers&mdash;the while his fired brain ranged all the halls
+of agony.</p>
+
+<p>For if he told her&mdash;this gentle Christian lady, to whom
+he had been so unkind&mdash;then she would never touch him
+more.</p>
+
+<p>The last hours&mdash;there was but little time remaining&mdash;would
+be alone. <span class="smcap">Alone!</span></p>
+
+<p>This new revelation that her love was still his, wonder
+of mysteries! this came at the last moments to aid him.</p>
+
+<p>A last grace before the running waters closed over
+him. Was he to give this up?</p>
+
+<p>The thought of flight lay like a wounded bird in his
+brain. It crept about it like some paralysed thing. Not
+yet dead, but inactive. Though he knew how terribly
+the moments called to him, yet he could not act.</p>
+
+<p>The myriad agonies he was enduring now, agonies so
+various and great that he knew Hell had none greater,
+these, even these were alleviated by the wonder of his
+wife's love.</p>
+
+<p>The terrible remorse that was knocking at his heart
+could not undo that.</p>
+
+<p>He clung to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me all about it, Robert. I will forgive you,
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span>
+whatever you have done. I have long ago forgiven
+everything in my heart. There are only the words to
+say."</p>
+
+<p>She rested her worn, tired head on his shoulder. The
+sunbeams gave it a glory.</p>
+
+<p>Again the man must suffer a terrible agony. She had
+asked him to tell her all his trouble in a voice full of
+gentle pleading.</p>
+
+<p><i>Whose voice did her voice recall to him; what fatal hour?</i>
+A coarser voice, a richer voice, trembling, so he had
+thought, with love for him.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Tell me everything, Bob!</i>" It was Gertrude's voice.</p>
+
+<p>The day of his undoing! The day when his horrid
+secret was wrested from him by the levers of his own
+passions. The day which had brought him to this.
+<i>Finis coronat opus!</i></p>
+
+<p>But the agony within him was the agony of <i>contrast</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The great fires round his soul had burnt his lust away.
+There was no more regret or longing for the evil past.
+All the joys of a sensual life seemed as if they had never
+been. Now, the pain was the pain of a man, not who
+knows the worst too soon, but who knows the best too
+late!</p>
+
+<p>A vivid picture, a succession of thoughts following
+each other with such kinetic swiftness that they became
+welded in one single picture, as one may see a vast landscape
+of wood and torrent, champaign and forest, in one
+flash of the storm sword, came to him now.</p>
+
+<p>And, at the last, he saw himself seated at a great table
+in a noble room. There were soft lights. Silver and
+flowers were there. Round the board sat many men
+and women. On their faces was the calm triumph of
+those who had succeeded in a fine battle, won an intellectual
+strife. The faces were calm, powerful, serene.
+They were the salt of society. He saw his own face in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span>
+a little mirror set among the flowers. His face was even
+as their faces. Self-reverence had dignified it, self-knowledge
+and self-control had turned the lines to
+kindly marble, defiant of time.</p>
+
+<p>At the other end of the table sat a calm and gracious
+lady, richly dressed in some glowing sombre stuff. She
+was the grave and loving matron who slept by his side.</p>
+
+<p>Full of honour, full of the glorious satisfaction of a
+great work well done, a life lived well; hand in hand, a
+noble and notable pair, they were making their fine progress
+together.</p>
+
+<p>"I am waiting, Robert, dear!"</p>
+
+<p>Then he knew that he must speak. In rapid words,
+which seemed to come from a vast distance, he confessed
+it all.</p>
+
+<p>He told her how Schuabe had tempted him with a
+vast fortune, how he was already in his power when the
+temptation had come. How his evil desires had so
+gripped him, his life of sin had become like air itself to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>He told of the secret visit to Palestine and the forgery
+which had stirred the world.</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke, he felt, in some subtle way, that the life
+and warmth were dying out of the arms which were
+round him.</p>
+
+<p>The electric current of devotion which had been flowing
+from this lady seemed to flicker and die away.</p>
+
+<p>The awful story was ended at last.</p>
+
+<p>Then with a face in which the horror came out in
+waves, inexpressibly terrible to see, with each beat of
+the pulses a wave of unutterable horror, she slowly rose.</p>
+
+<p>Her arms fell heavily to her sides, all her motions became
+automatic, jerky.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly, slowly, she turned.</p>
+
+<p>Her feet made no noise as she moved over the room.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span>
+Her garments did not rustle. But she walked, not as an
+elderly woman, but a very old woman.</p>
+
+<p>The door clicked softly. He was left alone in the
+comfortable room.</p>
+
+<p>Alone.</p>
+
+<p>He stood up, tottered a few steps in the direction she
+had gone, and then, with a resounding crash which
+shook the furniture in a succession of quick rattles, his
+great form fell prone upon the floor.</p>
+
+<p>He lay there, head downwards, with the sunshine
+pouring on him, still and without any reactionary movement.</p>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p>The afternoon was begun. London was as it had
+been for days. The uneasiness and unrest which were
+now become the common incubus of its inhabitants
+neither grew nor lessened.</p>
+
+<p>The afternoon papers were merely repetitions of former
+days. Great financial houses were tottering, rumours
+of wars were growing every hour, no country was at rest,
+no colony secure. Over the world lawlessness and rapine
+were holding horrid revel.</p>
+
+<p>But, and long afterwards, this fact was noticed and
+commented on by the historians: on this especial
+winter's afternoon there was no ultra-alarming shock,
+speaking comparatively, to the general state of things.</p>
+
+<p>In the pale winter sunshine men moved heavily about
+their business, the common burden was shared by all,
+but there was no loud trumpet note during those hours.</p>
+
+<p>About four o'clock some carriages drove to Downing
+Street. In one sat Sir Michael Manichoe, Father Ripon,
+Harold Spence, and Basil Gortre.</p>
+
+<p>In another was the English Consul at Jerusalem, who
+had arrived with Spence from the Holy City, Dr.
+Schm�ulder from Berlin, and the Duke of Suffolk.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span>
+The carriages stopped at the house of the Prime
+Minister and the party entered.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing occurred, visibly, for an hour, though urgent
+messages were passing over the telephone wires.</p>
+
+<p>In an hour's time a cab came driving furiously down
+the Embankment, round by the new Scotland Yard and
+St. Stephen's Club, into Parliament Street.</p>
+
+<p>The cab contained the Editor of the <i>Times</i>. Following
+his arrival, in a few seconds, a number of other cabs
+drove up, all at a fast pace. Each one contained a
+prominent journalist. Ommaney was among the first
+to arrive, and Folliott Farmer was with him.</p>
+
+<p>It was nearly an hour when these people left Downing
+Street, all with very grave faces.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes after their departure Sir Michael and
+his party came out, accompanied by several ministers,
+including the Home Secretary and the Chief Commissioner
+of Police.</p>
+
+<p>Though the distance to Scotland Yard is only a few
+hundred yards, the latter gentleman jumped into a passing
+hansom and was driven rapidly to his office.</p>
+
+<p>This brings the time up to about six o'clock.</p>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p>It was quite dark in Sir Robert's room. A faint
+yellow flicker came through the window, which was not
+curtained, from a gas lamp in the street. A dull and
+distant murmur from the Edgeware Road could be
+dimly heard, otherwise the room was quite silent.</p>
+
+<p>Llwellyn did not lie where he had fallen. His swoon
+had lasted long and no one had come to succour him.
+But the end was not just yet. The merciful oblivion of
+passing from a swoon into death was denied him.</p>
+
+<p>He had come to his senses late in the afternoon, about
+the time that the large party of people had emerged on
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</a></span>
+foot and in carriages from the narrow <i>cul-de-sac</i> of Downing
+Street.</p>
+
+<p>He had felt very cold, an icy-cold. There had come
+a terrible moment. The physical sensation was swamped
+and forgotten in one frightful flash of realisation. He
+was alone, the end was at hand.</p>
+
+<p>Alone.</p>
+
+<p>Instinctively he had tried to rise. He was lying face
+downwards at the return of sensation. His legs would
+not answer the message of his brain when he tried to
+move them so that he might rise. They lay like long
+dead cylinders behind him. He was able to drag himself
+very slowly, for a yard or two, until he reached an
+ottoman. He could not lift the vast weight of his body
+into the seat. It was utterly beyond his strength. He
+propped his trunk against the seat. It was all he was
+able to accomplish. Icy-cold sweat ran down his cheeks
+at the exertion. After he had finished moving he found
+that all strength had left him.</p>
+
+<p>He was paralysed from the waist downwards. The
+rest of his body was too weak to move him.</p>
+
+<p>Only his brain was working with a terrible activity,
+there alone in the chill dark.</p>
+
+<p>There came into his molten brain the impulse to pray.
+Deep down in every human heart that impulse lies.</p>
+
+<p>It is a seed planted there by God that it may grow
+into the tree of salvation.</p>
+
+<p>The effort was sub-conscious. Almost simultaneously
+with it came the awful remembrance of what he had done.</p>
+
+<p>A name danced in letters of flame in his brain&mdash;JUDAS.</p>
+
+<p>He looked round for some means to end this unbearable
+torture. He could see nothing, the room was very
+cold and dark, but he knew there was a case of razors
+on a table by the window.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span>
+When he tried to move he found that he could not.
+The paralysis was growing upwards.</p>
+
+<p>Then this was to be the end?</p>
+
+<p>A momentary flood of relief came over him. His
+blood seemed warm again.</p>
+
+<p>But the sensation died rapidly away, the physical
+and mental glow alike.</p>
+
+<p>He remembered those cases, frequent enough, when
+the whole body loses the power of movement, but the
+brain survives, active, alive, helpless.</p>
+
+<p>And all the sweat which the physical glow had induced
+turned to little icicles all over his body, even
+as the thought froze in his brain.</p>
+
+<p>An hour went by.</p>
+
+<p>Alone in the dark.</p>
+
+<p>His tongue was parched and dry. A sudden wonder
+came to him&mdash;could he speak still?</p>
+
+<p>Without realising what word he used as a test he
+spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Kate."</p>
+
+<p>A gaunt whisper in the silence.</p>
+
+<p>Silence! How silent it was! Yet no, he could hear
+the distant rumbling of the traffic. He became suddenly
+conscious of it. Surely it was very loud?</p>
+
+<p>It must be this physical change which was creeping
+over him. His head was swimming, disordered.</p>
+
+<p>Yet it seemed strangely loud.</p>
+
+<p>And louder, as he began to listen intently. He could
+not move his head to catch the sound more clearly,
+but he was beginning to hear it well enough now.</p>
+
+<p>No traffic ever sounded quite like that. It was like
+an advancing tide, thundering, as a horse gallops, over
+flat, level sands.</p>
+
+<p>A great sea rushing towards&mdash;towards what?</p>
+
+<p>Then he knew what that sound was.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</a></span>
+At last he knew.</p>
+
+<p>He could hear the individual shouts that made up
+the enormous mass of menacing sound.</p>
+
+<p>The nation was coming to take its revenge upon its
+betrayer.</p>
+
+<p>Mob law!</p>
+
+<p>They had found him out. It was as Schuabe had
+said&mdash;the great conspiracy was at an end. The stunning
+truth was out, flying round the world with its glad
+message.</p>
+
+<p>Yet, though once more the dishonoured Cross gleamed
+as the one solace in the hearts of men whose faith had
+been weak, though at that moment the glad news was
+racing round the world, yet the evil was not over.</p>
+
+<p>The Prince of the Powers of the air had reigned too
+long. Not lightly was he to relinquish his sceptre and
+dominion.</p>
+
+<p>They were in the erst-while quiet street below. The
+whole space was packed with the roaring multitude.
+The cries and curses came up to him in one roaring
+volume of sound, sounds that one looking over the
+brink of the pit of hell might hear.</p>
+
+<p>A heavy blow upon the stout door of the old well-built
+house shook the walls where the palsied Judas lay
+impotent.</p>
+
+<p>Another crash! The room was much lighter now,
+the crowd below had lights with them.</p>
+
+<p>Crash.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened silently. Lady Llwellyn came
+swiftly into the room.</p>
+
+<p>She wore a long white robe. Her face was lighted
+as if a lamp shone behind it.</p>
+
+<p>In her hand was the great crucifix which was wont
+to hang above her bed.</p>
+
+<p>When Christ died and bade the dying thief ascend
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span>
+with him to Paradise, can we say that His silence condemned
+the other?</p>
+
+<p>Her face was all aglow with love.</p>
+
+<p>"Robert!" she said. Her voice was like the voice
+of an angel.</p>
+
+<p>Her arms are round him, her kisses press upon him,
+the great crucifix is lifted to his dying eyes.</p>
+
+<p>A great thunder on the stairs, furious voices, the tide
+rising higher, higher.</p>
+
+<p class="p4b">Death.</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IXc" id="CHAPTER_IXc">CHAPTER IX</a></h2>
+
+<h4>AT WALKTOWN AGAIN</h4>
+
+<p class="p2"><span class="dropcap">T</span><span class="smcap">he</span> news came to Walktown, the final confirmation
+of what had been so long suspected, in a short
+telegram from Basil, dispatched immediately he had
+left Downing Street.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Byars and Helena had been kept well acquainted
+with every step in the progress of the investigation.</p>
+
+<p>Ever since Gortre had left Walktown, after his
+holiday visit, his suspicions had been ringing in the
+vicar's ears.</p>
+
+<p>Then, when the matter had been communicated to
+Sir Michael and Father Ripon, when Spence had started,
+and Mr. Byars knew that all the powers of wealth and
+intellect were at work, his hopes revived.</p>
+
+<p>The vicar's faith had never for a single moment
+wavered.</p>
+
+<p>In the crash of the creeds his deep conviction never
+wavered.</p>
+
+<p>The light burned steadily before the altar.</p>
+
+<p>He had been one of the faithful thousands, learned,
+simple, Methodist, ritualist, who <i>knew</i> that this thing
+could not be.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless his courage had been failing him. Life
+seemed to have lost its sweetness, and often he humbly
+wondered when he should die, hoping that the time
+was not too long&mdash;not without a tremulous belief
+that God would recognise that he had fought the good
+fight and kept the faith.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</a></span>
+In his own immediate neighbourhood the consequences
+of the "Discovery" nearly broke his heart. He had no
+need to look beyond Walktown. Even the great political
+events which were stirring the world had left him
+unmoved. His own small corner of the vineyard, now,
+alas! so choked with rank, luxuriant growth, was enough
+for this faithful pastor. Here he saw nothing but vice
+suddenly rearing its head and threatening to overwhelm
+all else. He heard the Holy Names blasphemed with all
+the inventions of obscene imaginations, assailed with
+all the wit of full-blooded men amazed and rejoiced
+that they could stifle their consciences at last. And this
+after all his life-work among these folk! He had given
+them of his best. His prayers, his intellect, much of his
+money had been theirs.</p>
+
+<p>How insolently they had exulted over him, these coarse
+and vulgar hearts!</p>
+
+<p>When Basil had first told Mr. Byars of his suspicions
+the vicar can hardly have been blamed for regarding
+them sadly as the generous effects of a young and ardent
+soul seeking to find an <i>immediate</i> way out of the <i>impasse</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The elder man knew that fraud had been at work, but
+he suspected no such modern and insolent attempt as
+Basil indicated. It was too much to believe. Gortre
+had left him most despondent.</p>
+
+<p>But his interest had soon become quickened and alive,
+as the private reports from London reached him.</p>
+
+<p>When he knew that great people were moving quietly,
+that the weight of Sir Michael was behind Gortre, he knew
+at once that in all probability Basil's suspicions were right.</p>
+
+<p>A curious change came over the vicar's public appearances
+and utterances. His sermons were full of fire,
+almost Pauline in their strength. People began to flow
+and flock into the great empty church at Walktown.
+Mr. Byars's fame spread.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</a></span>
+Then, swiftly, after the first week or two, had come
+the beginning of the great financial depression.</p>
+
+<p>It was felt acutely in Manchester.</p>
+
+<p>All the wealthy, comfortable, easy-going folk who
+grudgingly paid a small pew-rent out of their superfluity
+became alarmed, horribly alarmed. The Christianity
+which had sat so lightly upon them that at first opportunity
+they had rushed into the Unitarian meeting-houses
+became suddenly a very desirable thing.</p>
+
+<p>In the fall of Christianity they saw their own fortunes
+falling. And these self-deceivers would be swept back
+upon the tide of this reaction into the arms of the
+Anglican mother they had despised.</p>
+
+<p>The vicar saw all this. He was a keen expert in, and
+student of, human affairs, and withal a psychologist.
+He saw his opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>His words lashed and stung these renegades. They
+were made to see themselves as they were; the preacher
+cut away all the ground from under them. They were
+left face to face with naked shame.</p>
+
+<p>What puzzled and yet uplifted the congregation at St.
+Thomas's was their vicar's extraordinary <i>certainty</i> that
+the spiritual darkness over the land was shortly to be
+removed.</p>
+
+<p>It was commented on, keenly observed, greatly wondered
+at.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Byars speaks," said Mr. Pryde, a wealthy solicitor,
+"as if he had some private information about this
+Palestine discovery. He is so confident that he magnetises
+one into his own state of mind, and Byars is not
+a very emotional man either. His conviction is <i>real</i>.
+It's not hysteria."</p>
+
+<p>And, being a shrewd, silent man, the solicitor formed
+his own conclusions, but said nothing of them.</p>
+
+<p>The church continued full of worshippers.</p>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</a></span>
+When the news from Basil came, the vicar was sitting
+before the fire in his lighted study. He had been
+expecting the telegram all day.</p>
+
+<p>His brain had been haunted by the picture of that
+distinguished figure with the dark red hair he had so
+often met.</p>
+
+<p>Again he saw the millionaire standing in his drawing-room
+proffering money for scholarships. And in Dieppe
+also!</p>
+
+<p>How well and clearly he saw the huge figure of the
+<i>savant</i> in his coat of astrachan, with his babble of soups
+and <i>entr�e</i>!</p>
+
+<p>Try as he would, the vicar could not hate these two
+men. The sin, the awful sin, yes, a thousand times.
+Horror could not be stretched far enough, no hatred
+could be too great for such immensity of crime.</p>
+
+<p>But in his great heart, in his large, human nature there
+was a Divine <i>pity</i> for this wretched pair. He could not
+help it. It was part of him. He wondered if he were
+not erring in feeling pity. Was not this, indeed, that
+mysterious sin against the Holy Ghost for which there
+was no forgiveness? Was it not said of Judas that for
+his deed he should lie for ever in hell?</p>
+
+<p>The telegram was brought in by a neat, unconcerned
+housemaid.</p>
+
+<p>Then the vicar got up and locked the inner door of
+his study. He knelt in prayer and thanksgiving.</p>
+
+<p>It was a moment of intense spiritual communion with
+the Unseen.</p>
+
+<p>This good man, who had given his vigorous life and
+active intellect to God, knelt humbly at his study table
+while a joy and happiness not of this earth filled all his
+soul.</p>
+
+<p>At that supreme moment, when the sense of the glorious
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</a></span>
+vindication of Christ flooded the priest's whole being
+with ecstasy, he knew, perhaps, a faint foreshadowing of
+the life the Blessed live in Heaven.</p>
+
+<p>For a few brief moments that imperfect instrument,
+the human body, was permitted a glimpse, a flash of the
+eternal joy prepared for the saints of God.</p>
+
+<p>The vicar drew very near the Veil.</p>
+
+<p>Helena beat at the door; he opened to her, the tall,
+gracious lady.</p>
+
+<p>She saw the news in her father's face.</p>
+
+<p>They embraced with deep and silent emotion.</p>
+
+<hr class="r5" />
+
+<p>Two hours later the vicarage was full of people.</p>
+
+<p>The news had arrived.</p>
+
+<p>Special editions of the evening papers were being
+shouted through the streets. Downing Street had spoken,
+and in Manchester&mdash;as in almost every great city in
+England&mdash;the Truth was pulsing and throbbing in the
+air, spreading from house to house, from heart to heart.</p>
+
+<p>Every one knew it in Walktown now.</p>
+
+<p>There was a sudden unanimous rush of people to the
+vicarage.</p>
+
+<p>Each big, luxurious house all round sent out its eager
+owners into the night.</p>
+
+<p>They came to show the pastor, who had not failed
+them in the darkness, their joy and gratitude now that
+light had come at last.</p>
+
+<p>How warm and hearty these North-country people
+were! Mr. Byars had never penetrated so deeply beneath
+the somewhat forbidding crust of manner and
+surface-hardness before.</p>
+
+<p>Mingled with the sense of shame and misery at their
+own lukewarmness, there was a fine and genuine desire
+to show the vicar how they honoured him for his
+steadfastness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</a></span>
+"You've been an example to all of us, vicar," said a
+hard-faced, brassy-voiced cotton-spinner, a kindly light
+in his eyes, his lips somewhat tremulous.</p>
+
+<p>"We haven't done as we ought to by t' church," said
+another, "but you'll see that altered, Mr. Byars. Eh!
+but our faith has been weak! There'll be many a
+Christian's heart full of shame and sorrow for the past
+months this night, I'm thinking."</p>
+
+<p>They crowded round him, this knot of expensively
+dressed people, hard-faced and harsh-spoken, with a
+warmth and contrition which moved the old man inexpressibly.</p>
+
+<p>Never before had he been so near to them. Dimly he
+began to think he saw a wise and awful purpose of God,
+who had allowed this iniquity and calamity that the faith
+of the world might be strengthened.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll never forget what you've done for us, Mr.
+Byars."</p>
+
+<p>"If we've been lukewarm before, vicar, 't will be all
+boiling now!"</p>
+
+<p>"Praise God that He has spoken at last, and God
+forgive us for forgetting Him."</p>
+
+<p>The air was electric with love and praise.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you say a prayer, vicar?" asked one of the
+churchwardens. "It seems the time for prayer and
+a word or two like."</p>
+
+<p>The company knelt down.</p>
+
+<p>It was a curious scene. In the richly furnished drawing-room
+the group of portly men and matrons knelt at
+chairs and sofas, stolid, respectable, and middle-aged.</p>
+
+<p>But here and there a shoulder shook with suppressed
+emotion, a faint sob was heard. This, to many of them
+there, was the greatest spiritual moment they had ever
+known. Confirmation, communion, all the episodic
+mile-stones of the professing Christian's life had been
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</a></span>
+experienced and passed decorously enough. But the inward
+fire had not been there. The deep certainty of
+God's mysterious commune with the brain, the deep love
+for Christ which glows so purely and steadfastly among
+the saints still on earth&mdash;these were coming to them
+now.</p>
+
+<p>And, even as the fires of the Paraclete had descended
+upon the Apostles many centuries before, so now the
+Holy Spirit began to stir and move these Christians at
+Walktown.</p>
+
+<p>The vicar offered up the joy and thanks of his people.
+He prayed that, in His mercy, God would never again let
+such extreme darkness descend upon the world. Even
+as He had said, "Neither will I again smite any more
+every thing living, as I have done."</p>
+
+<p>He prayed that all those who had been cast into
+spiritual darkness, or who had left the fold of Christ,
+might now return to it with contrite hearts and be in
+peace.</p>
+
+<p>Finally, they said the Lord's Prayer with deep feeling,
+and the vicar blessed them.</p>
+
+<p>And for each one there that night became a precious,
+helpful memory which remained with them for many
+years.</p>
+
+<p>Afterwards, while servants brought coffee, always the
+accompaniment to any sort of function in Walktown, the
+talk broke out into a hushed amazement.</p>
+
+<p>The news which had been telegraphed everywhere
+consisted of a statement signed by the Secretary of State
+and the archbishops that the discovery in Palestine was
+a forgery executed by Sir Robert Llwellyn at the instigation
+of Constantine Schuabe.</p>
+
+<p>"Ample and completely satisfying evidence is in our
+possession," so the wording ran. "We render heartfelt
+gratitude to Almighty God that He has in His wisdom
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</a></span>
+caused this black conspiracy to be discovered. The
+thanks of the whole world, the gratitude of all Christians,
+must be for those devoted and faithful men who have
+been the instruments of Providence in discovering the
+Truth. Sir Michael Manichoe, the Rev. Basil Gortre,
+the Rev. Arthur Ripon, and Mr. Harold Spence have
+alone dispelled the clouds that have hung over the
+Christian world."</p>
+
+<p>It was a frightful shock to these people to know how a
+great magnate among them, a business <i>confr�re</i>, the
+member for their own division, an intimate, should have
+done this thing.</p>
+
+<p>As long as the world lasted the Owner of Mount
+Prospect who had spoken on their platforms would be
+accursed. It was too startling to realise at once; the
+thought only became familiar gradually, in little jerks,
+as one aspect after another presented itself to their
+minds.</p>
+
+<p>It was incredible that this antichrist had been long
+housed among them but a mile from where they stood.</p>
+
+<p>"What will they do to him?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who can say! There's never been a case like it
+before, you see."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the paper doesn't say, but I expect they've
+got them safe enough in London&mdash;Mr. Schuabe and the
+other fellow."</p>
+
+<p>"Just to think of our Mr. Gortre helping to find it
+out! Pity we ever let him go away from the parish
+church."</p>
+
+<p>"They can't do less than make him a bishop, I should
+think."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Byars, you ought to be proud of your young
+man. There's many folk blessing him in England this
+night."</p>
+
+<p>And so on, and so forth; simple, homely speeches, not
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</a></span>
+indeed free from a somewhat hard commercial view, but
+informed with kindliness and gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>At last, one by one, they went away. It was close
+upon midnight when the last visitor had departed.</p>
+
+<p>The vicar read a psalm to his daughter:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"<i>Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace,
+according to thy word. For mine eyes have seen thy salvation,
+which thou hast prepared before the face of all
+people.</i>"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4b">Basil was to come to them on the morrow for a long
+stay.</p>
+
+<hr class="r20" />
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[385]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE">EPILOGUE</a></h2>
+
+<h4>IN THREE PICTURES</h4>
+
+<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Note.</span>&mdash;<i>The three pictures all synchronise. The episodes
+they portray take place five years after the day upon
+which Sir Robert Llwellyn died.</i>&mdash;G. T.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h4>I. <span class="smcap">The Grave</span></h4>
+
+<p>Two figures walked over the cliffs.</p>
+
+<p>The day was wild and stormy. Huge clouds,
+bursting with sombre light, sailed over the pewter-coloured
+sea. The bleak magnificence of the moor
+stretched away in endless billows, as sad and desolate as
+the sea on which no sail was to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>The wayfarers turned out of the struggle of the bitter
+wind into a slight depression. A few scattered cottages
+began to come into the field of their vision.</p>
+
+<p>Soon they saw the whitewashed buildings of a coast-guard
+station and the high, square tower of a church.</p>
+
+<p>"So it's all settled, Spence," said one of the men, a
+tall, noble-faced man, dressed as a clerk in Holy Orders.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Father Ripon," Spence said. "They have offered
+me the paper. It was one of poor Ommaney's last
+wishes. Of course, we were injured in our circulation
+by the fact that we were the first to publish the news of
+the great forgery. But in two years Ommaney had
+brought the paper to the front again. He was wonderful,
+the first editor of his age.</p>
+
+<p>"I was there with Folliott Farmer and the doctors
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[386]</a></span>
+when he died. Fancy, it was the first time I had ever
+been in his flat, though we had worked together all these
+years! The simplest place you ever saw. Just a couple
+of rooms, where he slept all the daytime. No luxury,
+hardly even comfort. Ommaney had no existence apart
+from his work. He'd saved nearly all his very large
+salary for many years. I am an executor of his will.
+He left a legacy to Farmer, and to me also, and the rest
+to the Institute of Journalists. But I am persuaded that
+he did not care in the least what happened to his money.
+He never did. He wasn't mean in any way, but he
+worked all night and slept all day, and simply hadn't
+any use for money. A good-hearted man, a very brilliant
+editor, but utterly detached from any <i>personal</i> contact
+with life."</p>
+
+<p>Father Ripon's keen face, still as eager and powerful
+as before, set into lines of thought.</p>
+
+<p>He sighed a little. "A modern product," he said at
+length. "A modern product, a sign of the times. Well,
+Spence, a power is entrusted to you now such as no
+priest can enjoy. I pray that your editorship of this
+great paper will be fine. Try to be fine always. I believe
+that the Holy Spirit will be with you."</p>
+
+<p>They rose up towards the moor again. "There's the
+church," said Spence, "where she lies buried. Gortre
+sees that the grave is kept beautiful with flowers. It was
+an odd impulse of yours, Father, to propose this visit."</p>
+
+<p>"I do odd things sometimes," said the priest, simply.
+"I thought that the sight of this poor woman's resting-place
+might remind you and me of what has passed, of
+what she did for the world&mdash;though no one knows it
+but our group of friends. I hope that it will remind us,
+remind you very solemnly, my friend, in your new responsibility,
+of what Christ means to the world. The
+shadows of the time of darkness, 'When it Was Dark'
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[387]</a></span>
+during the 'Horror of Great Darkness,' have gone from
+us. And this poor sister did this for her Saviour's sake."</p>
+
+<p>They stood by Gertrude Hunt's grave as they spoke.</p>
+
+<p>A slender copper cross rose above it, some six feet high.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder how the poor girl managed it," said Spence
+at length; "her letter was wonderfully complete. Sir
+Michael&mdash;Lord Fencastle, I mean&mdash;showed it me some
+years ago. She was wonderfully adroit. I suppose
+Llwellyn had left papers about or something. But I do
+wonder how she did it."</p>
+
+<p>"That," said Father Ripon, "was what she would
+never tell anybody."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Requiescat in pace</i>," said Spence.</p>
+
+<p class="p3b">"In Paradise with Saint Mary of Magdala," the priest
+said softly.</p>
+
+<h4>THE SECOND PICTURE</h4>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Quem Deus Vult Perdere.</i></p>
+
+<p class="p2">The chaplain of the county asylum stood by the castellated
+red brick lodge at the end of the asylum drive,
+talking to a group of young ladies.</p>
+
+<p>The drive, which stretched away nearly a quarter of a
+mile to the enormous buildings of the asylum, with their
+lofty towers and warm, florid architecture, was edged
+with rhododendrons and other shrubs.</p>
+
+<p>The gardens were beautifully kept. Everything was
+mathematically straight and clean, almost luxurious,
+indeed.</p>
+
+<p>The girls were three in number, young, fashionably
+dressed. They talked without ceasing in an empty-headed
+stream of girlish chatter.</p>
+
+<p>They were the daughters of a great ironfounder in the
+district, and would each have a hundred thousand pounds.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[388]</a></span>
+The chaplain was showing them over the asylum.</p>
+
+<p>"How sweet of you, Mr. Pritchard, to show us everything!"
+said one of the girls. "It's awfully thrilling.
+I suppose we shall be quite safe from the violent ones?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes," said the chaplain, "you will only see those
+from a distance; we keep them well locked up, I assure
+you."</p>
+
+<p>The girls laughed with him.</p>
+
+<p>The party went laughing through the long, spotless
+corridors, peeping into the bright, airy living-rooms,
+where bodies without brains were mumbling and singing
+to each other.</p>
+
+<p>The imbecile who moved vacantly with slobbering
+lip, the dementia patient, the log-like, general paralytic&mdash;"G.
+P."&mdash;<i>things</i> which must be fed, the barred and
+dangerous maniac, they saw them all with pleasant thrills
+of horror, disgust, and sometimes with laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Grace, <i>do</i> look at that funny little fat one in the
+corner&mdash;the one with his tongue hanging out! Isn't
+he <i>weird</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's one actually <i>reading</i>! He <i>must</i> be only
+pretending!"</p>
+
+<p>A young doctor joined them&mdash;a handsome Scotchman
+with pleasant manners.</p>
+
+<p>For a time the lunatics were forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now, have we seen <i>all</i>, Doctor Steward?" one
+of the girls said. "All the worst cases? It's really
+quite a new sensation, you know, and I always go in for
+new sensations."</p>
+
+<p>"Did ye show the young leddies Schuabe?" said the
+doctor to the chaplain.</p>
+
+<p>"Bless my soul!" he replied, "I must be going mad
+myself. I'd quite forgotten to show you Schuabe."</p>
+
+<p>"Who is Schuabe?" said the youngest of the sisters, a
+girl just fresh from school at Saint Leonards.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[389]</a></span>
+"Oh, <i>Maisie</i>!" said the eldest. "Surely you remember.
+Why, it's only five years ago. He was the Manchester
+millionaire who went mad after trying to blow
+up the tomb of Christ. I think that was it. It was in
+all the papers. A young clergyman found out what he'd
+been trying to do, and then he went mad&mdash;this Schuabe
+creature, I mean, not the clergyman."</p>
+
+<p>"Every one likes to have a look at this patient," said
+the doctor. "He has a little sleeping-room of his own
+and a special attendant. His money was all confiscated
+by order of the Government, but they allow two hundred
+a year for him. Otherwise he would be among the
+paupers."</p>
+
+<p>The girls giggled with pleasurable anticipation.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor unlocked a door. The party entered a
+fairly large room, simply furnished. In an arm-chair a
+uniformed attendant was sitting, reading a sporting
+paper.</p>
+
+<p>The man sprang up and saluted as he heard the door
+open.</p>
+
+<p>On a bed lay the idiot. He had grown very fat and
+looked healthy. The features were all coarsened, but
+the hair retained its colour of dark red.</p>
+
+<p>He was sleeping.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Miss Clegg, ye'd never think that was the fellow
+that made such a stir in the world but five years
+since. But there he lies. He always eats as much as
+he can, and goes to sleep after his meal. He's waking
+up now, sir. Here, Mr. Schuabe, some ladies have
+come to see you."</p>
+
+<p><i>It</i> got up with a foolish grin and began some ungainly
+capers.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you <i>so</i> much, Mr. Pritchard," the girls said
+as they left the building. "We've enjoyed ourselves so
+much."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[390]</a></span>
+"I liked the little man with his tongue hanging out
+the best," said one.</p>
+
+<p class="p3b">"Oh, Mabel, you've <i>no</i> sense of humour! That
+Schuabe creature was the funniest of <i>all</i>!"</p>
+
+<h4>THE THIRD PICTURE</h4>
+
+<p>A Sunday evensong. The grim old Lancashire
+church of Walktown is full of people. The galleries
+are crowded, every seat in the aisles below is packed.</p>
+
+<p>This night, Easter night, the church looks less forbidding.
+The harsh note is gone, something of the supreme
+joy of Holy Easter has driven it away.</p>
+
+<p>Old Mr. Byars sits in his stall. He is tired by the
+long, happy day, and as the choir sings the last verse of
+the hymn before the sermon he sits down.</p>
+
+<p>The delicate, intellectual face is a little pinched and
+transparent. Age has come, but it is to this faithful
+priest but as the rare bloom upon the fruits of peace and
+quiet.</p>
+
+<p>How the thunderous voices peal in exultation!</p>
+
+<p>Alleluia!</p>
+
+<p>Christ is risen! The old man turned his head. His
+eyes were full of happy tears. He saw his daughter, a
+young and noble matron now, standing in a pew close to
+the chancel steps. He heard her pure voice, full of triumph.
+Christ is risen!</p>
+
+<p>From his oak chair behind the altar rails Dean Gortre
+came down towards the pulpit.</p>
+
+<p>Young still&mdash;strangely young for the dignity which
+they had pressed on him for two years before he would
+accept it&mdash;Basil ascended the steps.</p>
+
+<p>Christ is risen!</p>
+
+<p>The organ crashed; there was silence.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[391]</a></span>
+All the lights in the church were suddenly lowered to
+half their height.</p>
+
+<p>The two candles in the pulpit shone brightly on the
+preacher's face.</p>
+
+<p>They all saw that it was filled with holy fire.</p>
+
+<p>Christ is risen!</p>
+
+<p class="center">"<span class="smcap">if christ be not risen your faith is vain</span>"</p>
+
+<p>The church was absolutely still as the words of the
+text rang out into it.</p>
+
+<p>The people were thinking humbly, with contrite hearts,
+of the shame five years ago.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Would that our imagination, under the conduct of
+Christian faith, could even faintly realise the scene when
+the Human Soul of Our Lord came with myriads of attendant
+angels to the grave of Joseph, to claim the Body
+that had hung upon the cross.</p>
+
+<p>"To-night, with the promise and warrant of our own
+resurrection that His has given us, our thoughts involuntarily
+turn to those we call the dead. We feel that this
+Easter is for them also an occasion of rejoicing, and that
+the happiness of the earthly Church is shared by the
+loving and beloved choir behind the veil.</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">"Christ is risen! Away with the illusions which may
+have kept us from Him. Let us also arise and live.
+For, as the spouse sings in the Canticles, 'The winter
+is past, ... the time of the singing of birds is
+come; ... arise, my love, my fair one, and come
+away!'"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="p4b">Christ is risen!</p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> This article has already been seen in the preceding chapter.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> This particular instance of the Nuri� woman is <i>not</i> all fiction.
+An incident much resembling it actually occurred to a well-known
+writer on the intimate life of Eastern peoples. For the purposes of
+the narrative the <i>locale</i> has been changed from the Jaffa Road&mdash;where
+the event took place&mdash;to Jerusalem itself.</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h4><br />THE END<br /><br /></h4>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<h4>
+<i>A Selection from the Catalogue of</i></h4>
+
+<h4>G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS</h4>
+
+<p class="p2bc">Complete Catalogues sent on application</p>
+
+<hr class="r30" />
+
+<div>
+<div class="box2">
+<h5><i>Bound to excite a great deal of favorable comment</i></h5>
+
+<h2>A Lost Cause</h2>
+
+<h4><i>By</i></h4>
+
+<h3>Guy Thorne</h3>
+
+<h5>Author of "When It Was Dark."</h5>
+<hr class="r10" />
+<p class="center">Crown Octavo&mdash;- $1.50</p>
+<hr class="r10" />
+<blockquote><p>Mr. Thorne, the author of that much-discussed religious
+novel, <i>When It Was Dark</i>, which has become
+the theme of hundreds of sermons, and has received
+the highest commendation in the secular press as
+well as in the religious publications, has written
+another powerful book which also deals with present-day
+aspects of the Christian religion. The new story
+is marked by the same dramatic and emotional
+strength which characterized his earlier work. The
+special theme deals with certain practices which have
+caused dissension in the Church, and the influence
+of ardent religious convictions on character and conduct.
+Written in all sincerity, the book can hardly
+fail to arouse wide and varied attention and is
+destined to take its place as one of the most interest-compelling
+works of fiction in recent years.</p></blockquote>
+
+<h5>
+New York&mdash;G. P. Putnam's Sons&mdash;London</h5>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="r30" />
+
+<div>
+<div class="box2">
+<h5>
+"Something distinctly out of the common, well conceived,
+vividly told, and stirring from start to finish."<br />&mdash;<i>London Telegraph.</i></h5>
+
+<h2>
+The Scarlet Pimpernel</h2>
+<h4>By Baroness Orczy</h4>
+<h3><i>Author of "The Emperor's Candlesticks," etc.</i></h3>
+
+<blockquote><p>A dramatic romance of the French Revolution and
+the �migr� Nobles. The "Scarlet Pimpernel" was the
+chief of a daring band of young Englishmen leagued together
+to rescue members of the French nobility from
+the Terrorists of France. The identity of the brilliant
+and resourceful leader is sacredly guarded by
+his followers and eagerly sought by the agents of
+the French Revolutionary Government. Scenes of
+intrigue, danger, and devotion, follow close one upon
+another. The heroine is a charming, fearless woman
+who in the end shares the honors with the
+"Scarlet Pimpernel." In a stage version prepared by
+the author <i>The Scarlet Pimpernel</i> was one of the
+dramatic successes of the last London season, Mr.
+Fred Terry and Miss Julia Neilson acting the leading
+r�les.</p></blockquote>
+
+<hr class="r10" />
+<h5><i>Crown 8vo, with Illustrations from Photographs
+of the Play, $1.50</i></h5>
+
+<p class="center">
+<i>New York</i> ~ G. P. Putnam's Sons ~ <i>London</i><br />
+</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="r30" />
+
+<div>
+<div class="box2">
+<h5><i>A Fascinating Romance</i></h5>
+
+<h2>Love Alone is Lord</h2>
+
+<h4><i>By</i> F. Frankfort Moore</h4>
+<h3><i>Author of "The Jessamy Bride," etc.</i></h3>
+
+<blockquote><p>This latest story by the author of <i>The Jessamy
+Bride</i> has for its theme the only really
+ideal love affair in the romantic life of Lord
+Byron. The story opens during the poet's
+boyhood and tells of his early devotion to
+his cousin, Mary Chaworth. Mr. Moore has
+followed history very closely, and his descriptions
+of London society when Byron was the
+rage are as accurate as they are dramatic.
+Lady Caroline Lamb figures prominently in
+the story, but the heroine continues to be
+Byron's early love, Mary Chaworth. His attachment
+for his cousin was the strongest and
+most enduring of his life, and it failed of realization
+only by the narrowest of chances.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo, $1.50</i></p>
+<hr class="r10" />
+<p class="center">
+G. P. Putnam's Sons<br /><br />
+
+<i>New York</i> &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <i>London</i></p>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="r30" />
+
+<div>
+<div class="box2">
+
+<h5>"The cleverest work of the kind written in
+many years."<br />&mdash;<i>Rochester Herald.</i></h5>
+
+<h1>
+OUR BEST SOCIETY</h1>
+
+<h2>A Novel Dealing with the Life of the Rich in New York</h2>
+
+<h3>By JOHN D. BARRY</h3>
+
+<h4>Author of "The Congressman's Wife," "Mademoiselle
+Blanche," "A Daughter of Thespis," etc.</h4>
+
+<blockquote><p>Now in its Second Edition. Crown Octavo.
+Cloth, $1.50.</p></blockquote>
+
+<blockquote><p>It is one of the most interesting descriptions of
+modern society since "The Breadwinners," supposed
+to be written by John Hay. A witty and
+cleverly drawn picture, as sure in its touch and as
+effective in its results as a Gibson drawing.</p>
+
+<p class="inright">
+<i>Town and Country.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<blockquote><p>The book will attract the "initiated" because
+the author has caught the real key-note.</p>
+
+<p class="inright"><i>The Independent.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<blockquote><p>Exceedingly clever in many ways. Although it
+is a really brilliant satire, there is no bitterness.
+On the contrary, an air of almost blissful good-humor
+pervades every page.</p>
+
+<p class="inright"><i>St. Paul Pioneer-Press.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="center"><br />
+G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS<br />
+<br />
+New York &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; London<br />
+</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<div class="transnote">
+<h3>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES</h3>
+
+<p class="p2b">Punctuation has been silently corrected where there are obvious errors.</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">Words with hyphens and accents have been standardised.</p>
+
+<p class="p2b">The following corrections of typographical errors have been made:</p>
+<p class="pinset">"refined and, artistic" to "refined and artistic" (p. 3)</p>
+<p class="pinset">"tolerent" to tolerant" (p. 29)</p>
+<p class="pinset">"it forget to jeer" to "it forgot to jeer" (p. 49)</p>
+<p class="pinset">"Salonika cigarrette" to "Salonika cigarette" (p. 53)</p>
+<p class="pinset">"forty thousands pounds" to "forty thousand pounds" (p. 67)</p>
+<p class="pinset">"volumn" to "volume" (p. 72)</p>
+<p class="pinset">"lines cames out upon it" to "lines came out upon it" (p. 90)</p>
+<p class="pinset">"weathly banker" to "wealthy banker" (p. 107)</p>
+<p class="pinset">"Dieppe its true significance" to "Dieppe--its true significance" (p. 108)</p>
+<p class="pinset">"become more resonant" to "became more resonant" (p. 112)</p>
+<p class="pinset">"Schaube" to "Schuabe" (p. 193)</p>
+<p class="pinset">"Sanhedrim of the great" to "Sanhedrin of the great" (p. 235)</p>
+<p class="pinset">"Neirsteiner" to "Niersteiner" (p. 242)</p>
+<p class="pinset">"in amazemen" to "in amazement" (p. 261)</p>
+<p class="pinset">"Sir Ulang Pass" to "Sri Ulang Pass" (p. 293)</p>
+<p class="pinset">"rising but of the sea" to "rising out of the sea" (p. 323)</p>
+<p class="pinset">"Exellency" to "Excellency" (p. 350)</p>
+<p class="pinset">"the lastest visitor" to "the last visitor" (p. 384)</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of When It Was Dark, by Guy Thorne
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN IT WAS DARK ***
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of When It Was Dark, by Guy Thorne
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license
+
+
+Title: When It Was Dark
+       The Story of a Great Conspiracy
+
+Author: Guy Thorne
+
+Release Date: May 10, 2012 [EBook #39666]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN IT WAS DARK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Mark C. Orton, Margo Romberg and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+book was produced from scanned images of public domain
+material from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+     ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+     +                                      +
+     +           _By GUY THORNE_            +
+     +                                      +
+     +           When It Was Dark           +
+     +   The Story of a Great Conspiracy    +
+     +  12�. (By mail, $1.35) _Net_, $1.20  +
+     +                                      +
+     +             A Lost Cause             +
+     +              12� $1.50               +
+     +                                      +
+     +          G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS         +
+     +         _New York and London_        +
+     +                                      +
+     ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+
+
+
+
+    WHEN IT WAS DARK
+
+
+
+
+    When It Was Dark
+
+    The Story of a Great Conspiracy
+
+    By
+
+    Guy Thorne
+
+    G. P. Putnam's Sons
+    New York and London
+    The Knickerbocker Press
+    1906
+
+
+
+
+    COPYRIGHT, 1904
+    BY
+    G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+
+    Published, January, 1904
+    Reprinted, May, 1904; September, 1904
+    December, 1904; September, 1905
+    October, 1905; November, 1905; January, 1906
+
+    The Knickerbocker Press, New York
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+BOOK I.
+
+CHAPTER                                              PAGE
+
+   I. An Incident by Way of Prologue                   1
+
+  II. In the Vicar's Study                             6
+
+ III. "I Think he is a Good Man"                      23
+
+  IV. The Smoke Cloud at Dawn                         33
+
+   V. A Lost Soul                                     45
+
+  VI. The Whisper                                     56
+
+ VII. Last Words at Walktown                          69
+
+VIII. A Dinner at the Pannier d'Or                    77
+
+  IX. Inauguration                                    95
+
+   X. The Resurrection Sermon                        107
+
+  XI. "Neither do I Condemn Thee"                    116
+
+ XII. Powers of Good and Evil                        126
+
+
+BOOK II.
+
+   I. While London was Sleeping                      141
+
+  II. Avoiding the Flower Pattern on the Carpet      165
+
+ III. "I, Joseph"                                    178
+
+  IV. The Domestic Chaplain's Testimony              184
+
+   V. Deus, Deus Meus, Quare Dereliquisti!           194
+
+  VI. Harness the Horses; and Get up, ye Horsemen,
+      and Stand forth with your Helmets, Furbish
+      the Spears, and Put on the Brigandines--Jer.
+      xlvi: 4                                        205
+
+ VII. The Hour of Chaos                              212
+
+VIII. The First Links                                225
+
+  IX. Particular Instances, Contrasting the Old
+      Lady and the Special Correspondent             233
+
+   X. The Triumph of Sir Robert Llwellyn             245
+
+  XI. Progress                                       256
+
+ XII. A Soul alone on the Sea-Shore                  262
+
+
+BOOK III.
+
+   I. What it Meant to the World's Women             271
+
+  II. Cyril Hands Redux                              283
+
+ III. All ye Inhabitants of the World, and
+      Dwellers on the Earth, See ye, when He
+      Lifteth up an Ensign on the Mountains--Is.
+      xviii: 3                                       289
+
+  IV. A Luncheon Party                               302
+
+   V. By the Tower of Hippicus                       322
+
+  VI. Under the Eastern Stars: towards Gerizim       342
+
+ VII. The Last Meeting                               356
+
+VIII. Death Coming with One Grace                    364
+
+  IX. At Walktown Again                              376
+
+      Epilogue                                       385
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I
+
+"The mystery of iniquity doth already work."
+
+
+
+
+WHEN IT WAS DARK
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+AN INCIDENT BY WAY OF PROLOGUE
+
+
+Mr. Hinchcliffe, the sexton, looked up as Mr. Philemon, the clerk,
+unlocked the great gates of open ironwork which led into the street.
+Hinchcliffe was cutting the lettering on a tombstone, supported by heavy
+wooden trestles, under a little shed close to the vestry door of the
+church.
+
+The clerk, a small, rotund man, clerical in aspect, and wearing a round
+felt hat, pulled out a large, old-fashioned watch. "Time for the bell,
+William," he said.
+
+The parish church was a large building in sham perpendicular. It stood
+in a very central position on the Manchester main road, rising amid a
+bare triangle of flat gravestones, and separated from the street
+pavement only by high iron railings.
+
+It was about half-past four on a dull autumn afternoon. The trams swung
+ringing down the black, muddy road, and the long procession of great
+two-wheeled carts, painted vermilion, carried coal from the collieries
+six miles away to the great mills and factories of Salford.
+
+The two men went into the church, and soon the tolling of a deep-voiced
+bell, high up in the pall of smoke which lay over the houses, beat out
+in regular and melancholy sound.
+
+Inside the building the noise of the traffic sank into a long, unceasing
+note like the _bourdon_ note of a distant organ.
+
+Hinchcliffe tolled the bell in the dim, ugly vestibule with his foot in
+a loop in the rope, sitting on the chest which held the dozen loaves
+which were given away every Sunday to the old women in the free seats.
+
+The clerk opened the green baize swing-doors and strode up the aisle
+towards the vestry, waking mournful echoes as the nails in his boots
+struck the tiled floor.
+
+Saint Thomas's Church, the mother church of Walktown, was probably the
+ugliest church in Lancashire. The heavy galleries, the drab walls, the
+terrible gloom of the vast structure, all spoke eloquently of a chilly,
+dour Christianity, a grudging and suspicious Sunday religion which
+animated its congregation.
+
+In the long rows of cushioned seats, each labelled with the name of the
+person who rented it, Sunday by Sunday the moderately prosperous and
+wholly vulgar Lancashire people sat for two hours. During the prayers
+they leaned forward in easy and comfortable concession to convention.
+Few ever knelt. During the hymn times they stood up in their places
+listening carefully to a fine choir of men and women--a choir which,
+despite its vocal excellence, was only allowed to perform the most
+stodgy and commonplace evangelical music.
+
+When the incumbent preached he was heard with the jealous watchfulness
+which often assails an educated man. The renters of the pews desired a
+Low Church aspect of doctrine and were intelligent to detect any
+divergence from it.
+
+The colour of the building was sombre. The brick-red and styx-like grey
+of the flooring, the lifeless chocolate front of the galleries, the
+large and ugly windows filled with glass which was the colour of a
+ginger-beer bottle, had all a definite quality of cheerless vulgarity.
+
+Philemon came out of the vestry door with a lighted taper. He lit two or
+three jets of the corona over the reading-desk. Then he sat down in a
+front pew close to the chancel steps and waited.
+
+The bell outside stopped suddenly, and a tall young man in a black
+Inverness cape walked hurriedly up the side aisle under the gallery
+towards the vestry.
+
+In less than a minute he came out again in surplice, stole, and
+hood,--the stole and hood were always worn at Walktown,--went to the
+reading-desk, and began to say Evensong in a level, resonant voice.
+
+At the end of each psalm Mr. Philemon recited the doxology with
+thunderous assertion and capped each prayer with an echoing "Amen."
+
+The curate, Basil Gortre, was a young fellow with a strong, impressive
+face. His eyes had the clearness of youth and looked out steadily on the
+world under his black hair. His face was of that type men call a
+"thoroughly honest" face, but, unlike the generality of such faces, it
+was neither stubborn nor stupid. The clean-shaven jaw was full of power,
+the mouth was refined and artistic, without being either sensual or
+weak.
+
+During the Creed he turned towards the east, and the clerk's
+uncompromising voice became louder and more acid as he noticed the
+action; and when the clergyman, almost imperceptibly, made the sign of
+the Cross at the words "The resurrection of the body," the old man gave
+a loud snort of disapprobation.
+
+In deference to the congregation on Sundays, and at the wish of his
+vicar, Gortre omitted these simple signs of reverence. But alone, at
+Matins or Evensong, he followed his usual habit.
+
+During the last low prayers, as dusk crept into the great church, and
+the clank and bells of the trams outside seemed to be more remote, a
+part, indeed, of that visible but not symbolic ugliness which the gloom
+was hiding, a note of fervour crept into the young man's praying which
+had only been latent there before.
+
+He was reading the third collect when the few gas jets above his head
+began to whistle, burnt blue for a few seconds, and then faded out with
+three or four faint pops.
+
+Some air had got into the pipes. Old Mr. Philemon rose noisily from his
+knees, and shuffled off to the vestry coughing and spluttering. Outside,
+with startling suddenness, a piano organ burst into a gay, strident
+melody. After a few bars the music stopped with a jerk. A police
+constable had spoken to the organ-grinder and moved him on.
+
+Gortre's voice went on in a deep, fervent monotone, unmoved by the
+darkness or the dissonance--
+
+     "_Lighten our darkness, we beseech Thee, O Lord; and by Thy great
+     mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night; for the
+     love of Thy only Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ._"
+
+The faithful, quiet voice, enduring through the dark, was a
+foreshadowing of the great cloud which was breaking over the world, big
+with disaster, imminent with gloom. It foreshadowed the divinely aided
+continuance of Truth through such a terror as men had never known
+before.
+
+It meant many things, that firm and beautiful voice--hope in the darkest
+hour for thousands of dying souls, a noble woman's happiness in time of
+dire stress and evil temptations and a death worse than the death Judas
+died--for Mr. Schuabe the millionaire and Robert Llwellyn the scholar,
+taking tea together in the Athenaeum Club three hundred miles away in
+London.
+
+     "--_by Thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of
+     this night_."
+
+Mr. Philemon returned with a taper, an old and wrinkled acolyte, in time
+with his loud and sonorous AMEN.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+IN THE VICAR'S STUDY
+
+
+The vicarage of Walktown was a new and commodious house with tall
+chimneys, pointed windows, and a roof of red tiles.
+
+It was more than a mile from the church, in the residential quarter of
+the town. Here were no shops and little traffic. The solid houses of red
+brick stood in their own rather dingy grounds, where, though the grass
+was never really green, and spring came in a veil of smoky vapour when
+the wind blew from the town, there was yet a rural suggestion.
+
+The trees rose from neatly kept lawns, the gravel sweeps of the drives
+were carefully tended, and there was distant colour in the elaborate
+conservatories and palm-houses which were to be seen everywhere.
+
+Mr. Pryde, the great Manchester solicitor, had his beautiful modern
+house here. Sir John Neele, the wealthy manufacturer of disinfectants,
+lived close by, and a large proportion of the well-to-do Manchester
+merchants were settled round about.
+
+Not all of them were parishioners of Mr. Byars, the vicar of Walktown.
+Many attended the more fashionable church of Pendleborough, a mile away
+in what answered to the "country"; others were leaders in the Dissenting
+and especially the Unitarian worlds.
+
+Walktown was a stronghold of the Unitarians. The wealthy Jews of two
+generations back, men who made vast fortunes in the black valley of the
+Irwell, had chosen Walktown to dwell in. Their grandsons had found it
+more politic to abjure their ancient faith. A few had become
+Christians,--at least in name, inasmuch as they rented pews at St.
+Thomas's,--but others had compromised by embracing a faith, or rather a
+dogma, which is simply Judaism without its ritual and ceremonial
+obligations. The Baumanns, the Hildersheimers, the Steinhardts,
+flourished in Walktown.
+
+It was people of this class who supported the magnificent concerts in
+the Free Trade Hall at Manchester, who bought the pictures and read the
+books. They had brought an alien culture to the neighbourhood. The vicar
+had two strong elements to contend with,--for his parochial life was all
+contention,--on the one hand the Lancashire natives, on the other the
+wealthy Jewish families.
+
+The first were hard, uncultured people, hating everything that had not
+its origin and end in commerce. They disliked Mr. Byars because he was a
+gentleman, because he was educated, and because--so they considered--the
+renting of the pews in his church gave them the right to imagine that he
+was in some sense a paid servant of theirs.
+
+The second class of parishioners were less Philistine, certainly, but
+even more hopeless from the parish priest's point of view. In their
+luxurious houses they lived an easy, selfish, and sensual life, beyond
+his reach, surrounded by a wall of indifferentism, and contemptuous of
+all that was not tangible and material. At times the rector and the
+curate confessed to each other that these people seemed more utterly
+lost than any others with whom the work of the Church brought them in
+contact.
+
+Mr. Byars was a widower with one son, now at Oxford, and one daughter,
+Helena, who was engaged to Basil Gortre, the curate.
+
+About six o'clock the vicar sat in his study with a pile of letters
+before him. The room was a comfortable, bookish place, panelled in pitch
+pine where the walls were not covered with shelves of theological and
+philosophical works.
+
+The arm-chairs were not new, but they invited repose; the large
+engraving over the pipe-littered mantel was a fine autotype of Giacomo's
+_St. Emilia_. The room was brightly lit with electric light.
+
+Mr. Byars was a man of medium height, bald, his fine, domed forehead
+adding to his apparent age, and wore a pointed grey beard and moustache.
+He was an epitome of the room around him.
+
+The volumes on his shelves were no ancient and musty tomes, but
+represented the latest and newest additions to theological thought.
+
+Lathom and Edersheim stood together with Renan's _Vie de Jesus_ and
+Clermont-Ganneau's _Recueil d'Arch. Orient_, and Westcott guarded them
+all.
+
+The ivory crucifix which stood on the writing-table completed the
+impression of the man.
+
+Ambrose Byars at forty-five was thoroughly acquainted with modern
+thought and literature. His scholarship was tempered with the wisdom of
+an active and clear-headed man of the world. His life and habits were
+simple but unbigoted, and his broad-mindedness never obscured his
+unalterable convictions. He lived, as he conceived it his duty to live
+in his time and place, in thorough human and intellectual correspondence
+with his environment, but one thought, one absolute certainty informed
+his life.
+
+As year by year his knowledge grew greater, and the scientific criticism
+of the Scriptures undermined the faith of weaker and less richly
+endowed minds, he only found in each discovery a more vivid proof of the
+truth of the Incarnation and the Resurrection.
+
+It was his habit in discussions to reconcile all apparently conflicting
+antichristian statements and weave them into the fabric of his
+convictions. He held that, even scientifically, historically, and
+materially, the evidence for the Resurrection was too strong to be ever
+overthrown. And beyond these intellectual evidences he knew that Christ
+must have risen from the dead, because he himself had found Christ and
+was found in Him.
+
+His attitude was a careful one with all its conciseness. An anecdote
+illustrates this.
+
+One day, when walking home from a meeting of the School Board, of which
+he was a member, he had met a parishioner named Baxter, the proprietor
+of a small engineering work in the district. The man, who never came to
+church, on what he called "principle," but spent his Sundays in bed with
+a sporting paper, was one of those half-educated people who condemn
+Christianity by ridiculing the Old Testament stories.
+
+They walked together, Baxter quoting the _Origin of Species_, which he
+knew from a cheap epitomised handbook.
+
+"Do you really think, Mr. Byars," he had said, "do you really believe,
+after Darwin's discovery, that we were made by a sort of conjuring trick
+by a Supreme Power? Seven days of cooking, so to speak, and then a
+world! Why, it's childish to expect thinking people to believe it. We
+are simply evolved by scientific evolution out of the primaeval
+protoplasm."
+
+"Very possibly," said the vicar; "and who made the protoplasm, Mr.
+Baxter?"
+
+The man was silent for a minute. "Then, Mr. Byars," he said at length,
+"you do not believe the Old Testament--the Adam and Eve part, for
+instance. You do not believe the Book on which your creed is founded."
+
+"There are such things as allegories," he had answered. "The untutored
+brain must be taught the truth in such a way as it can receive it."
+
+The vicar lit his pipe and began to open his letters with a slight sigh.
+Of all men, he sometimes felt, he was the least possible one for
+Walktown. For twelve years he had worked there, and he seemed to make
+little headway. He longed for an educated congregation. Here methods too
+vulgar for his temperament seemed to be the only ones.
+
+The letters were all from applicants for the curacy which Gortre's
+impending departure would shortly leave vacant.
+
+"It will be a terrible wrench to lose Basil," he said to himself; "but
+it must be. He will have his chance and be far happier in London, in
+more congenial environment. He would never be a great success in
+Walktown. He has tried nobly, but the people won't understand him. They
+would never like him; he's too much of a gentleman. How they all hate
+breeding in Walktown! There is nothing for it, I can see. I must get an
+inferior man this time. An inferior man will go down with them better
+here. I only hope he will be a really good fellow. If he isn't, it will
+be Jerrold over again--vulgar cabals against me, and all the women in
+the place quarrelling and taking sides."
+
+He read letter after letter, and saw, with a humorous shrug of disgust,
+that he would have little difficulty in engaging the "inferior" man of
+his thoughts.
+
+The best men would not come to the North. Men of family with decent
+degrees, Oxford men, Cambridge men, accustomed to decent society and
+intellectual friends, knew far too much to accept a title in the
+Manchester district.
+
+The applications were numerous enough, but obviously from second-rate
+men, or at any rate from men who appeared to be so at first glance.
+
+A Durham graduate, 40, with five children, begged earnestly for the L120
+a year which was all Mr. Byars could offer. A few young men from
+theological colleges wanting titles, a Dublin B.A., announcing himself
+as "thoroughly Protestant in views"--they were a weary lot. A
+non-collegiate student from Oxford with a second class in Theology, a
+Manchester Grammar-School boy, whose father lived at Higher Broughton,
+seemed to promise the best. He would be able to get on with the people,
+probably. "I suppose I must have him, accent and all," the vicar said
+with a sigh, "though I suppose it's prejudice to dislike the lessons
+read with the Lancashire broad 'a' and short 'o.' St. Paul probably
+spoke with a terrible local twang! and yet, I don't know, he was too
+great to be vulgar; one doesn't like to think that----"
+
+Mr. Byars was certainly a difficult person for his congregation to
+appreciate.
+
+He picked up the letter and was re-reading it when the door opened and
+his daughter came in.
+
+Helena Byars was a tall girl, largely made and yet slender. Her hair was
+luxuriant and of a traditional "heroine" gold. She was dressed with a
+certain richness, though soberly enough, a style which, with its slight
+hint of austerity, accentuated a quiet and delicate charm. So one felt
+on meeting her for the first time. Sweet-faced she was and with an
+underlying seriousness even in her times of laughter. Her mouth was
+rather large, her nose straight and beautifully chiselled. The eyes were
+placid, intelligent, but without keenness. There was an almost matronly
+dignity about her quiet and yet decided manner.
+
+The vicar looked up at her with a smile, thinking how like her mother
+the girl was--that grave and gracious lady who looked out of the picture
+by the door, St. Cecilia in form and face. "Eh, but Helena she favours
+her mother," Hinchcliffe, the sexton, had said with the frank
+familiarity of the Lancashire workman soon after Mrs. Byars's funeral
+four years ago.
+
+"I've brought _Punch_, father," she said, "it's just come. Leave your
+work now and enjoy yourself for half an hour before dinner. Basil will
+be here by the time you're finished."
+
+She stirred the fire into a bright glow, and, singing softly to herself,
+left the study and went into the dining-room to see that the table
+looked inviting for the coming meal.
+
+About seven o'clock Gortre arrived, and soon afterwards the three sat
+down to dine. It was a simple meal, some fish, cold beef, and a pudding,
+with a bottle of beer for the curate and a glass of claret for the
+vicar. The housemaid did not wait upon them, for they found the meal
+more intimate and enjoyable without her.
+
+"I've got some news," said Gortre. "The great question of domicile is
+settled. You know there is no room in the clergy-house at St. Mary's.
+Moreover, Father Ripon thought it well that I should live outside. He
+wanted one of the assistant clergy, at least, to be in constant touch
+with lay influences, he said when I saw him."
+
+"What have you arranged, dear?" said Helena.
+
+"Something very satisfactory, I think," he answered. "My first thought
+was to take ordinary rooms in Bloomsbury. It would be near St. Mary's
+and the schools. Then I thought of chambers in one of the Inns of Court.
+At any rate I wrote to Harold Spence to ask his advice. He was at
+Merton with me, you know, lived on the same staircase in 'Stubbins,' and
+is just one of the best fellows in the world. We haven't corresponded
+much during the last three years, but I knew a letter to the New Oxford
+and Cambridge would always find him. So I wrote up. He's been University
+Extension lecturing for a time, you know, and writing too. Now he tells
+me that he is writing leaders for the _Daily Wire_ and doing very well.
+I'll read you what he says."
+
+He took a letter from his pocket, glanced down it for the paragraph he
+wanted, and began to read:
+
+      ... "--and I am delighted to hear that you have at last made up
+     your mind to leave the North country and have accepted this London
+     curacy. I asked Marsh, our ecclesiastical editor, about St. Mary's
+     last night. He tells me that it is a centre of very important
+     Church work, and has some political and social influence. Of all
+     the 'ritualistic' parishes--I use the word as a convenient
+     label--it is thought to be the sanest. Here you will have a real
+     chance. I know something of the North, and came in contact with all
+     sorts and conditions of people when I was lecturing on the French
+     Revolution round Liverpool and Manchester for the Extension. They
+     are not the people for you to succeed with, either socially or from
+     a clergyman's point of view--at least, that's my opinion, old man.
+     You ask me about rooms. I have a proposal to make to you in this
+     regard. I am now living in Lincoln's Inn with a man named
+     Hands--Cyril Hands. You may know his name. He is a great
+     archaeologist, was a young Cambridge professor. For three years now
+     he has been working for The Palestine Exploring Society. He is in
+     charge of all the excavations now proceeding near Jerusalem, and
+     constantly making new and valuable Biblical discoveries."
+
+The vicar broke in upon the reading. "Hands!" he said; "a most
+distinguished man! His work is daily adding to our knowledge in a
+marvellous way. He has just recently discovered some important
+inscriptions at El-Edhamiyeh--Jeremiah's grotto, you know, the place
+which is thought may be Golgotha, you know. But go on, I'm sorry to
+interrupt."
+
+Gortre continued:
+
+     "Hands is only at home for three months in the year, when he comes
+     to the annual meeting of the Society and recuperates at the
+     seaside. His rooms, however, are always kept for him. The chambers
+     we have are old-fashioned but very large. There are three big
+     bedrooms, a huge sitting-room, two smaller rooms and a sort of
+     kitchen, all inside the one oak. I have a bedroom and one small
+     room where I write. Hands has only one bedroom and uses the big
+     general room. Now if you care to come and take up your abode in the
+     Inn with us, I can only say you will be heartily welcome. Your
+     share of the expenses would be less than if you lived alone in
+     rooms as you propose, and you would be far more comfortable. You
+     could have your study to work in. Our laundress is nearly always
+     about, and there is altogether a pleasant suggestion of Oxford and
+     the old days in the life we lead. Of course I need hardly tell you
+     that we are very quiet and quite untroubled by any of the rowdy
+     people, all of whom live away from our court altogether. You would
+     be only five minutes' walk from St. Mary's. What do you think of
+     the idea? Let me know and I will give you all further details. I
+     hope you will decide on joining us. I should find it most
+     pleasant.--Ever yours,
+
+          "HAROLD MASTERMAN SPENCE."
+
+"An extremely genial letter," said the vicar. "I suppose you'll accept,
+Basil? It will be pleasant to be with friends like that."
+
+"Isn't it just a little, well, bachelor?" said Helena rather nervously.
+
+Gortre smiled at the question.
+
+"No, dear," he said. "I don't think you need be afraid. I know the sort
+of visions you have. The sort of thing in _Pendennis_, isn't it? The boy
+sent out for beer to the nearest public-house, and breakfast at twelve
+in the morning, cooked in the sitting-room. You don't know Harold. He is
+quite _bourgeois_ in his habits, despite his intellect, hates a muddle,
+always dresses extremely well, and goes to church like any married man.
+He was a great friend of the Pusey House people at Oxford."
+
+"The days when you couldn't be a genius without being dirty are gone,"
+said the vicar. "I am glad of it. I was staying at St. Ives last summer,
+where there is quite an artistic settlement. All the painters carried
+golf-clubs and looked like professional athletes. They drink Bohea in
+Bohemia now."
+
+Gortre talked a little about his plans for the future. He had a
+sympathetic audience. During the four years of his curacy at Walktown he
+had become very dear to Mr. Byars. He had arrived in the North from
+Oxford, after a year at Litchfield Theological College, just about the
+time that Mrs. Byars had died. His help and sympathy at such a time had
+begun a friendship with his vicar that had been firmly cemented as the
+time went on, and had finally culminated in his engagement to Helena. He
+had been the vicar's sole intellectual companion all this time, and his
+loss would be irreparable. But both men felt that his departure was
+inevitable. The younger man's powers were stifled and confined in the
+atmosphere of the place. He had private means of his own, and belonged
+to an old West-country family, and, try as he would he failed to
+identify himself socially with the Walktown people. His engagement to
+Helena Byars had increased his unpopularity. He would be far happier at
+St. Mary's in London, at the famous High Church, where he would find all
+those exterior accompaniments of religion to which he had been
+accustomed, and which, though he did not exalt the shadow into the
+substance, always made him happier when he was surrounded by them.
+
+He was to wait a year and then he would be married. There were no money
+obstacles in the way and no reason for further delay. Only the vicar
+looked forward with a sort of horror to his future loneliness, and tried
+to put the thought from him whenever it came.
+
+After dinner Helena left the two men to smoke alone in the study. There
+was a concert in the Town Hall to which she was going with Mrs. Pryde,
+the solicitor's wife, a neighbour. Her friend's carriage called for her
+about eight, and Gortre settled down for a long talk with the vicar on
+parochial affairs.
+
+They sat on each side of the dancing fire, with coffee on a table
+between them, quietly enjoying the after-dinner pipe, the best and
+finest of the five cardinal pipes of the day. It was a comfortable
+scene. The room was lighted only by a single electric reading-lamp with
+a green shade, and the firelight flickered and played over the dull gold
+and crimson of the books on the shelves, and threw red lights on the
+shining ivory of the sculptured Christ.
+
+"I daresay this North-country man will do all right," said the vicar.
+"He will be more popular than you, Basil."
+
+The young man sighed. "God knows I have tried hard enough to win their
+confidence," he said sadly, "but it was not to be. I _can't_ get in
+touch with them, vicar. They dislike my manners, my way of
+speaking--everything about me. Even the landlady of my rooms distrusts
+me because I decline to take tea with my evening chop, and charges me
+three shillings a week extra because I have what she calls 'late
+dinner'!"
+
+The vicar laughed. "At any rate," he said, "you have got hold of Leef,
+your landlord; he comes to church regularly now."
+
+"Oh, Leef illustrates more than any one else how impossible it is, for
+me, at any rate, to do much good. Last week he said to me, 'It's a fine
+thing, religion, when you've got it at last, Mr. Gortre. When I look
+back at my unregenerate years I wonder at myself. Religion tells me to
+give up certain things. It only 'armonises with the experience of any
+sensible man of my age. I don't want to drink too much, for instance. My
+health is capital, and I'm not such a fool as to spoil it. To think that
+all those years I never knew that religion was as easy as winking, and
+with a certainty of everlasting glory afterwards. I'll always back you
+up, Mr. Gortre, in saying that religion's the finest thing out.'"
+
+"Well, dear boy, you will be in another environment altogether soon.
+It's no use being discouraged. _Tot homines, quot sententiae_! We can't
+alter these things. The Essenes used to speak disrespectfully enough of
+'Ye men of Galilee,' no doubt. Sometimes I think I would rather have
+these stubborn people than those of the South, men as easy and _commode_
+as an old glove, and worth about as much. Have you seen the _Guardian_
+to-day?"
+
+"No, I haven't. I've been at the schools all the morning, visiting in
+Timperley Street till Evensong, home for a wash, and then here."
+
+"I see Schuabe is going to address a great meeting in the Free Trade
+Hall on the Education Bill."
+
+"Then he is at Mount Prospect?"
+
+"He arrived from London yesterday."
+
+The two men looked at each other in silence. Mr. Byars seemed ill at
+ease. His foot tapped the brass rail of the fender. Then, a sure sign of
+disturbance with him, he put down his pipe, which was nearly smoked
+away, and took a cigarette from a box on the table and smoked in short,
+quick puffs.
+
+Gortre's face became dark and gloomy. The light died out of it, the
+kindliness of expression, which was habitual, left his eyes.
+
+"We have never really told each other what we think of Schuabe and how
+we think of him, vicar," he said. "Let us have it out here and now while
+we are thinking of him and while we have the opportunity."
+
+"In a question of this sort," said Mr. Byars, "confidences are extremely
+dangerous as a rule, but between you and me it is different. It will
+clear our brains mutually. God forbid that you and I, in our profession
+as Christ's priests and our socio-political position as clerks in Holy
+Orders, should bear rancour against any one. But we are but human.
+Possibly our mutual confidence may help us both."
+
+There was a curious eagerness in his manner which was reflected by that
+of the other. Both were conscious of feelings ill in accord with their
+usual open and kindly attitude towards the world. Each was anxious to
+know if the other coincided with himself.
+
+Men are weak, and there is comfort in community.
+
+"From envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness--" said Gortre.
+
+"Good Lord deliver us," replied the vicar gravely.
+
+There was a tense silence for a time, only broken by the dropping of the
+coals in the grate. The vicar was the first to break it.
+
+"I'll sum up my personal impression of the man for and against," he
+said.
+
+Gortre nodded.
+
+"There can be no doubt whatever," said Mr. Byars, "that among all the
+great North-country millionaires--men of power and influence, I
+mean--Schuabe stands first and pre-eminent. His wealth is enormous to
+begin with. Then he is young--can hardly be forty yet, I should say. He
+belongs to the new generation. In Walktown he stands entirely alone.
+Then his brilliancy, his tremendous intellectual powers, are equalled by
+few men in England. His career at Oxford was marvellous, his political
+life, only just beginning as it is, seems to promise the very highest
+success. His private life, as far as we know--and everything about the
+man seems to point to an ascetic temperament and a refined habit--is
+without grossness or vice of any kind. In appearance he is one of the
+ten most striking-looking men in England. His manners are fascinating."
+
+Gortre laughed shortly, a mirthless, bitter laugh.
+
+"So far," he said, "you have drawn a picture which approaches the ideal
+of what a strong man should be. And I grant you every detail of it. But
+let me complete it. You will agree with me that mine also is true."
+
+His voice trembled a little. Half unconsciously his eyes wandered to the
+crucifix on the writing-table. In the red glow of the fire, which had
+now ceased to crackle and flame, the drooping figure on the cross showed
+distinct and clear in all its tremendous appeal to the hearts of
+mankind. Tears came into the young man's eyes, his face became drawn and
+pained. When he spoke, his voice was full of purpose and earnestness.
+
+"Yes," he said, with an unusual gesture of the hand, "Schuabe is all
+that you say. In a hard, godless, and material age he is an epitome of
+it. The curse of indifferentism is over the land. Men have forgotten
+that this world is but an inn, a sojourning place for a few hours. O
+fools and blind! The terror of death is always with them. But this man
+is far more than this--far, far more. To him has been given the eye to
+see, the heart to understand. _He, of all men living in England to-day,
+is the mailed, armed enemy of Our Lord._ No loud-mouthed atheist,
+sincere and blatant in his ignorance, no honest searcher after truth.
+All his great wealth, all his attainments, are forged into one devilish
+weapon. He is already, and will be in the future, the great enemy of
+Christianity. Oh, I have read his book! 'Even now there are many
+antichrists.' I have read his speeches in Parliament. I know his
+enormous influence over those unhappy people who call themselves
+'Secularists.' Like Diocletian, like Julian, _he hates Christ_. He is no
+longer a Jew. Judaism is nothing to him--one can reverence a Montefiore,
+admire an Adler. His attacks on the faith are something quite different
+to those of other men. As his skill is greater, so his intention is more
+evil. And yet how helpless are we who know! The mass of Christians--the
+lax, tolerant Christians--think he is a kind of John Morley. They praise
+his charities, his efforts for social amelioration. They quote, 'And God
+fulfils Himself in many ways.' I say again, O fools and blind! They do
+not know, they cannot see, this man as he is at heart, accursed and
+antichrist!" His voice dropped, tired with its passion and vehemence. He
+continued in a lower and more intimate vein:
+
+"Do you think I am a fanatic, vicar? Am I touched with monomania when I
+tell you that of late I have thought much upon the prophetic indications
+of the coming of 'the Man of Sin,' the antichrist in Holy Writ? Can it
+be, I have asked myself, as I watch the comet-like brilliance of this
+man's career, can it be that in my own lifetime and the lifetime of
+those I love, the veritable enemy of our Saviour is to appear? Is this
+man, this Jew, he of whom it is said in Jacob's words, 'Dan shall be a
+serpent by the way, an adder in the path'--the tribe of which _not one_
+was sealed?"
+
+"You are overwrought, Basil," said the elder man kindly. "You have let
+yourself dwell too much on this man and his influences. But I do not
+condemn you. I also have had my doubts and wonderings. The outside world
+would laugh at us and people who might be moved as we are at these
+things. But do we not live always with, and by help of, the Unseen? God
+alone knows the outcome of the trend of these antichristian influences,
+of which, I fear, Schuabe is the head. The Fathers are clear enough on
+the subject, and the learned men of mediaeval times also. Let me read to
+you."
+
+He got up from his arm-chair, glad, it seemed, at opportunity of change
+and movement, and went to the book-shelves which lined the wall. His
+scholar's interest was aroused, his magnificent reading and knowledge of
+Christian history and beliefs engaged and active.
+
+He dipped into book after book, reading extracts from them here and
+there.
+
+"Listen. Marchantius says the ship of the Church will sink and be lost
+in the foam of infidelity, and be hidden in the blackness of that storm
+of desolation which shall arise at the coming of Antichrist. 'The sun
+shall be darkened and the stars shall fall from heaven.' He means, of
+course, the sun of faith, and that the stars, the great ecclesiastical
+dignitaries, shall fall into apostasy. But, he goes on to say, the
+Church will remain unwrecked, she will weather the storm and come forth
+'_beautiful as the moon, terrible as an army with banners_.'"
+
+His voice was eager and excited, his face was all alight with the
+scholar's eagerness, as he took down book after book with unerring
+instinct to illustrate his remarks.
+
+"Opinions as to the nature and personality of Antichrist have been very
+varied," he continued. "Some of the very early Christian writers say he
+will be a devil in a phantom body, others that he will be an incarnate
+demon, true man and true devil, in fearful and diabolic parody of the
+Incarnation of our Lord. There is a third view also. That is that he
+will be merely a desperately wicked man, acting upon diabolic
+inspirations, just as the saints act upon Divine inspirations.
+
+"Listen to St. John Damascene upon the subject. He is very express. 'Not
+as Christ assumed humanity, so will the Devil become human; but the Man
+will receive all the inspiration of Satan, and will suffer the Devil to
+take up his abode within him.'"
+
+Gortre, who was listening with extreme attention, made a short, sharp
+exclamation at this last quotation.
+
+He had risen from his seat and stood by the mantel-shelf, leaning his
+elbow upon it.
+
+One of the ornaments of the mantel was a head of Christ, photographed on
+china, from Murillo, and held in a large silver frame like a photograph
+frame.
+
+Just as the vicar had finished reading there came a sudden knock at the
+door. It startled Gortre, and he moved suddenly. His elbow slid along
+the marble of the shelf and dislodged the picture, which fell upon the
+floor and was broken into a hundred pieces, crashing loudly upon the
+fender.
+
+The housemaid, who had knocked, stood for a moment looking with dismay
+upon the breakage. Then she turned to the vicar.
+
+"Mr. Schuabe from Mount Prospect to see you, sir," she said. "I've shown
+him into the drawing-room."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+"I THINK HE IS A GOOD MAN"
+
+
+The servant had turned on the lights in the drawing room, where a low
+fire still glowed red upon the hearth, and left Constantine Schuabe
+alone to await the vicar's arrival.
+
+On either side of the fireplace were heavy hangings of emerald and
+copper woven stuff, a present to Helena from an uncle, who had bought
+them at Benares. Schuabe stood motionless before this background.
+
+The man was tall, above the middle height, and the heavy coat of fur
+which he was wearing increased the impression of proportioned size, of
+massiveness, which was part of his personality. His hair was a very dark
+red, smooth and abundant, of that peculiar colour which is the last to
+show the greyness of advancing age. His features were Semitic, but
+without a trace of that fulness, and sometimes coarseness, which often
+marks the Jew who has come to the middle period of life. The eyes were
+large and black, but without animation, in ordinary use and wont. They
+did not light up as he spoke, but yet the expression was not veiled or
+obscured. They were coldly, terribly _aware_, with something of the
+sinister and untroubled regard one sees in a reptile's eyes.
+
+The jaw, which dominated the face and completed its remarkable
+_ensemble_, was very massive, reminding people of steel covered with
+olive-coloured parchment. Handsome was hardly the word which fitted him.
+He was a strikingly handsome man; but that, like "distinction," was
+only one of the qualities which made up his personality. Force,
+power--the relentless and conscious power suggested by some great marine
+engine--surrounded him in an almost indescribable way. They were like
+exhalations. Most people, with the casual view, called him merely
+indomitable, but there were others who thought they read deeper and saw
+something evil and monstrous about the man; powerless to give an exact
+and definite reason for the impression, and dubious of voicing it.
+
+Nevertheless, now and again, two or three people would speak of him to
+each other without reserve, and on such occasions they generally agreed
+to this feeling of the sinister and malign, in much the same manner as
+the vicar and his curate had been agreeing but half an hour before his
+arrival at the house.
+
+The door opened with a quick click of the handle, and the vicar entered
+with something of suddenness. One might almost have supposed that he had
+lingered, hesitant, in the hall, and suddenly nerved himself for this
+encounter.
+
+Mr. Byars advanced to take the hand of his visitor. Beside the big man
+he seemed shrunken and a little ineffectual. He was slightly nervous in
+his manner also, for Basil's impassioned and terror-ridden words still
+rang in his ears and had their way with him.
+
+The coincidence of the millionaire's arrival was altogether too sudden
+and _bizarre_.
+
+When they had made greetings, cordial enough on the surface, and were
+seated on either side of the fire, Schuabe spoke at once upon the object
+of his visit.
+
+"I have come, Mr. Byars," he said, in a singularly clear, vibrant voice,
+"to discuss certain educational proposals with you. As you probably
+know, just at present I am taking a very prominent part in the House of
+Commons in connection with the whole problem of primary education.
+Within the last few weeks I have been in active correspondence with your
+School Board, and you will know all about the scholarships I have
+founded.
+
+"But I am now coming to you to propose something of the same sort in
+connection with your own Church schools. My opinions on religious
+matters are, of course, not yours. But despite my position I have always
+recognised that, with whatever means, both the clergy and my own party
+are broadly working towards one end.
+
+"Walktown provides me with very many thousands a year, and it is my duty
+in some way or another to help Walktown. My proposal is roughly this: I
+will found and endow two yearly scholarships for two boys in the
+national schools. The money will be sufficient, in the first instance,
+to send them to one of the great Northern Grammar Schools, and
+afterwards, always providing that the early promise is maintained, to
+either university.
+
+"My only stipulation is this. The tests shall be purely and simply
+intellectual, and have nothing whatever to do with the religious
+teaching of the schools, with which I am not in sympathy. Nevertheless,
+it is only fair that a clever boy in a Church school should have the
+same opportunities as in a secular school. I should tell you that I have
+made the same offer to the Roman Catholic school authorities and it has
+been declined."
+
+The vicar listened with great attention. The offer was extremely
+generous, and showed a most open-minded determination to put the donor's
+personal prejudices out of the question. There could be no doubt as to
+his answer--none whatever.
+
+"My dear sir," he said, "your generosity is very great. I see your point
+about the examinations. Religion is to form no part of them exactly. But
+by the time one of our boys submits himself for examination we should
+naturally hope that he would already be so firmly fixed in Christian
+principles that his after-career would have no influence upon his faith.
+Holding the opinions that you do, your offer shows a great freedom from
+any prejudice. I hope I am broad-minded enough to recognise that
+philanthropy is a fine, lovely thing, despite the banner under which the
+philanthropist may stand. I accept your generous offer in the spirit
+that it is made. Of course, the scheme must be submitted to the managers
+of the schools, of whom I am chief, but the matter practically lies with
+me, and my lead will be followed."
+
+"I am only too glad," said the big man, with a sudden and transforming
+smile, "to help on the cause of knowledge. All the details of the scheme
+I will send you in a few days, and now I will detain you no longer."
+
+He rose to go.
+
+During their brief conversation the vicar had been conscious of many
+emotions. He blamed himself for his narrowness and the somewhat
+fantastic lengths to which his recent talk with Gortre had gone. The man
+was an infidel, no doubt. His intellectual attacks upon Christian faith
+were terribly damaging and subversive. Still, his love for his
+fellow-men was sincere, it seemed. He attacked the faith, but not the
+preachers of it. And--a half thought crossed his brain--he might have
+been sent to him for some good purpose. St. Paul had not always borne
+the name of Paul!
+
+These thoughts, but half formulated in his brain, had their immediate
+effect in concrete action.
+
+"Won't you take off your coat, Mr. Schuabe," he said, "and smoke a cigar
+with me in my study?"
+
+The other hesitated a moment, looked doubtful, and then assented. He
+hung his coat up in the hall and went into the other room with the
+vicar.
+
+During the conversation in the drawing-room Helena had come back from
+the concert, and Basil, hearing her, had left the study and gone to her
+own private sanctum for a last few minutes before saying good-night.
+
+Helena sat in a low chair by the fire sipping a bowl of soup which the
+maid had brought up to her. She was a little tired by the concert, where
+a local pianist had been playing a nocturne of Chopin's as if he wanted
+to make it into soup, and the quiet of her own sitting-room, the
+intimate comfort of it all, and the sense of happiness that Basil's
+presence opposite gave her were in delightful contrast.
+
+"It was very stupid, dear," she said. "Mrs. Pryde was rather trying,
+full of dull gossip about every one, and the music wasn't good. Mr.
+Cuthbert played as if he was playing the organ in church. His touch is
+utterly unfitted for anything except the War March from _Athalie_ with
+the stops out. He knows nothing of the piano. I was in a front seat, and
+I could see his knee feeling for the swell all the time. He played _the_
+sonata as if he was throwing the moonlight at one in great solid chunks.
+I'm glad to be back. How nice it is to sit here with you, dearest!--and
+how good this Bovril is!" she concluded with a little laugh of content
+and happiness at this moment of acute physical and mental ease.
+
+He looked lovingly at her as she lay back in rest and the firelight
+played over her white arms and pale gold hair.
+
+"It's wonderful to think," he said, with a little catch in his voice,
+"it's wonderful to me, an ever-recurring wonder, to think that some day
+you and I will always be together for all our life, here and afterwards.
+What supreme, unutterable happiness God gives to His children! Do you
+know, dear, sometimes as I read prayers or stand by the altar, I am
+filled with a sort of rapture of thankfulness which is voiceless in its
+intensity. Tennyson got nearer to expressing it than any one in that
+beautiful _St. Agnes' Eve_ of his--a little gem which, with its
+simplicity and fervour, is worth far more than Keats's poem with all its
+literary art."
+
+"It is good to feel like that sometimes," she answered; "but it is well,
+I think, not to get into the way of _inducing_ such feelings. The human
+brain is such a sensitive thing that one can get into the way of
+drugging it with emotion, as it were. I think I am tinged a little with
+the North-country spirit. I always think of Newman's wonderful lines--
+
+    "'The thoughts control that o'er thee swell and throng;
+    They will condense within the soul and turn to purpose strong.
+    But he who lets his feelings run in soft luxurious flow,
+    Shrinks when hard service must be done, and faints at every blow.'
+
+"I only quote from memory. But you look tired, dear boy; you are rather
+white. Have you been overworking?"
+
+He did not answer immediately.
+
+"No," he said slowly, "but I've been having a long talk with the vicar.
+We were talking about Mr. Schuabe and his influence. Helena, that man is
+the most active of God's enemies in England. Almost when I was
+mentioning his name, by some coincidence, or perhaps for some deeper,
+more mysterious, psychical reason which men do not yet understand, the
+maid announced him. He had come to see your father on business,
+and--don't think I am unduly fanciful--the Murillo photograph, the head
+of Christ, on the mantel-shelf, fell down and was broken. He is here
+still, I think."
+
+"Yes," said Helena; "Mr. Schuabe is in the study with father. But, Basil
+dear, it's quite evident to me that you've been doing too much. Do you
+know that I look upon Mr. Schuabe as a really _good_ man! I have often
+thought about him, and even prayed that he may learn the truth; but God
+has many instruments. Mr. Schuabe is sincere in his unbelief. His life
+and all his actions are for the good of others. It is terrible--it is
+deplorable--to know he attacks Christianity; but he is tolerant and
+large-minded also. Yes, I should call him a good man. He will come to
+God some day. God would not have given him such power over the minds and
+bodies of men otherwise."
+
+Gortre smiled a little sadly,--a rather wan smile, which sat strangely
+upon his strong and hearty face--, but he said no more.
+
+He knew that his attitude was illogical, perhaps it could be called
+bigoted and intolerant--a harsh indictment in these easy, latitudinarian
+days; but his conviction was an intuition. It came from within, from
+something outside or beyond his reason, and would not be stifled.
+
+"Well, dear," he said, "perhaps it is as you say. Nerves which are
+overwrought, and a system which is run down, certainly have their say,
+and a large say, too, in one's attitude towards any one. Now you must go
+to bed. I will go down and say good-night to the rector and Mr.
+Schuabe--just to show there's no ill-feeling; though, goodness knows, I
+oughtn't to jest about the man. Good-night, sweet one; God bless you.
+Remember me also in your prayers to-night."
+
+She kissed him in her firm, brave way--a kiss so strong and loving, so
+pure and sweet, that he went away from that little room of books and
+_bric-a-brac_ as if he had been sojourning in some shrine.
+
+As Basil came into the study he found Mr. Byars and Schuabe in eager,
+animated talk. A spirit decanter had been brought in during his
+absence, and the vicar was taking the single glass of whisky-and-water
+he allowed himself before going to bed. Basil, who was in a singularly
+alert and observant mood, noticed that a glass of plain seltzer water
+stood before the millionaire.
+
+Gortre's personal acquaintance with Schuabe was of the slightest. He had
+met him once or twice on the platform of big meetings, and that was all.
+A simple curate, unless socially,--and Schuabe did not enter into the
+social life of Walktown, being almost always in London,--he would not be
+very likely to come in the way of this mammoth.
+
+But Schuabe greeted him with marked cordiality, and he sat down to
+listen to the two men.
+
+In two minutes he was fascinated, in five he realised, with a quick and
+unpleasant sense of inferiority, how ignorant he was beside these two.
+In Schuabe the vicar found a man whose knowledge was as wide and
+scholarship as profound as his own.
+
+From a purely intellectual standpoint, probably Gortre and Schuabe were
+more nearly on a level, but in pure knowledge he was nowhere. He
+wondered, as he listened, if the generation immediately preceding his
+own had been blessed with more time for culture, if the foundation had
+been surer and more comprehensive, when they were _alumni_ of the
+"loving mother" in the South.
+
+They were discussing archaeological questions connected with the Holy
+Land.
+
+Schuabe possessed a profound and masterly knowledge of the whole Jewish
+background to the Gospel picture, not merely of the archaeology, which in
+itself is a life study, but of the essential characteristics of Jewish
+thought and feeling, which is far more.
+
+Of course, every now and again the conversation turned towards a
+direction that, pursued, would have led to controversy. But, with mutual
+tact, the debatable ground was avoided. That Christ was a historic fact
+Schuabe, of course, admitted and implied, and when the question of His
+Divinity seemed likely to occur he was careful and adroit to avoid any
+discussion.
+
+To the young man, burning with the zeal of youth, this seemed a pity.
+Unconsciously, he blamed the vicar for not pressing certain points home.
+
+What an opportunity was here! The rarity of such a visit, the obvious
+interest the two men were beginning to take in each other--should not a
+great blow for Christ be struck on such an auspicious night? Even if the
+protest was unavailing, the argument overthrown, was it not a duty to
+speak of the awful and eternal realities which lay beneath this vivid
+and brilliant interchange of scholarship?
+
+His brain was on fire with passionate longing to speak. But,
+nevertheless, he controlled it. None knew better than he the depth and
+worth of the vicar's character. And he felt himself a junior; he had no
+right to question the decision of his superior.
+
+"You have missed much, Mr. Byars," said Schuabe, as he arose to go at
+last, "in never having visited Jerusalem. One can get the knowledge of
+it, but never the colour. And, even to-day, the city must appear, in
+many respects, exactly as it did under the rule of Pilate. The Fellah
+women sell their vegetables, the camels come in loaded with roots for
+fuel, the Bedouin, the Jews with their long gowns and slippers--I wish
+you could see it all. I have eaten the meals of the Gospels, drunk the
+red wine of Saron, the spiced wine mixed with honey and black pepper,
+the 'wine of myrrh' mentioned in the Gospel of Mark. I have dined with
+Jewish tradesmen and gone through the same formalities of hand-washing
+as we read of two thousand years ago; I have seen the poor
+ostentatiously gathered in out of the streets and the best part of the
+meal given them for a self-righteous show. And yet, an hour afterwards,
+I have sat in a _cafe_ by King David's Tower and played dice with
+Turkish soldiers armed with Martini rifles!"
+
+The vicar seemed loath to let his guest go, though the hour was late,
+but he refused to stay longer. Mr. Byars, with a somewhat transparent
+eagerness, mentioned that Gortre's road home lay for part of the way in
+the same direction as the millionaire's. He seemed to wish the young man
+to accompany him, almost, so Basil thought, that the charm of his
+personality might rebuke him for his tirade in the early part of the
+evening.
+
+Accordingly, in agreement with the vicar's evident wish, but with an
+inexplicable ice-cold feeling in his heart, he left the house with
+Schuabe and began to walk with him through the silent, lamp-lit
+streets.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE SMOKE CLOUD AT DAWN
+
+
+The two men strode along without speaking for some way. Their feet
+echoed in the empty streets.
+
+Suddenly Schuabe turned to Basil. "Well, Mr. Gortre," he said, "I have
+given you your opportunity. Are you not going to speak the word in
+season after all?"
+
+The young man started violently. Who was this man who had been reading
+his inner thoughts? How could his companion have fathomed his sternly
+repressed desire as he sat in the vicarage study? And why did he speak
+now, when he knew that some chilling influence had him in its grip, that
+his tongue was tied, his power weakened?
+
+"It is late, Mr. Schuabe," he said at length, and very gravely. "My
+brain is tired and my enthusiasm chilled. Nor are you anxious to hear
+what I have to say. But your taunt is ungenerous. It almost seems as if
+you are not always so tolerant as men think!"
+
+The other laughed--a cold laugh, but not an unkindly one. "Forgive me,"
+he said, "one should not jest with conviction. But I should like to talk
+with you also. There are lusts of the brain just as there are lusts of
+the flesh, and to-night I am in the mood and humour for conversation."
+
+They were approaching a side road which led to Gortre's rooms.
+Schuabe's great stone house was still a quarter of a mile away up the
+hill.
+
+"Do not go home yet," said Schuabe, "come to my house, see my books, and
+let us talk. Make friends with the mammon of unrighteousness, Mr.
+Gortre! You are disturbed and unstrung to-night. You will not sleep.
+Come with me."
+
+Gortre hesitated for a moment, and then continued with him. He was
+hardly conscious why he did so, but even as he accepted the invitation
+his nerves seemed recovered as by some powerful tonic. A strange
+confidence possessed him, and he strode on with the air and manner of a
+man who has some fixed purpose in his brain.
+
+And as he talked casually with Schuabe, he felt towards him no longer
+the cold fear, the inexplicable shrinking. He regarded him rather as a
+vast and powerful enemy, an evil, sinister influence, indeed, but one
+against which he was armed with an armour not his own, with weapons
+forged by great and terrible hands.
+
+So they entered the drive and walked up among the gaunt black trees
+towards the house.
+
+Mount Prospect was a large, castellated modern building of stone. In a
+neighbourhood where architectural monstrosities abounded, perhaps it
+outdid them all in its almost brutal ugliness and vulgarity. It had been
+built by Constantine Schuabe's grandfather.
+
+The present owner was little at Walktown. His Parliamentary and social
+duties bound him to London, and when he had time for recreation the
+newspapers announced that he had "gone abroad," and until he was
+actually seen again in the midst of his friends his disappearances were
+mysterious and complete.
+
+In London he had a private set of rooms at one of the great hotels.
+
+But despite his rare visits, the hideous stone palace in the smoky North
+held all the treasures which he himself had collected and which had been
+left to him by his father.
+
+It was understood that at his death the pictures and library were to
+become the property of the citizens of Manchester, held in trust for
+them by the corporation.
+
+Schuabe took a key from his pocket and opened the heavy door in the
+porch.
+
+"I always keep the house full of servants," he said, "even when I am
+away, for a dismantled house and caretakers are horrible. But they will
+be all gone to bed now, and we must look after ourselves."
+
+Opening an inner door, they passed through some heavy padded curtains,
+which fell behind them with a dull thud, and came out into the great
+hall.
+
+Ugly as the shell of the great building was, the interior was very
+different.
+
+Here, set like a jewel in the midst of the harsh, forbidding country,
+was a treasure-house of ordered beauty which had few equals in England.
+
+Gortre drew a long, shuddering breath of pleasure as he looked round.
+Every aesthetic influence within him responded to what he saw. And how
+simple and severe it all was! Simply a great domed hall of white marble,
+brilliantly lit by electric light hidden high above their heads. On
+every side slender columns rose towards the dome, beyond them were tall
+archways leading to the rooms of the house; dull, formless curtains,
+striking no note of colour, hung from the archways.
+
+In the centre of the vast space, exactly under the dome, was a large
+pool of still green water, a square basin with abrupt edges, having no
+fountain nor gaudy fish to break its smoothness.
+
+And that was all, literally all. No rugs covered the tesselated floor,
+not a single seat stood anywhere. There was not the slightest suggestion
+of furniture or habitation. White, silent, and beautiful! As Gortre
+stood there, he knew, as if some special message had been given him,
+that he had come for some great hidden purpose, that it had been
+foreordained. His whole soul seemed filled with a holy power, unseen
+powers and principalities thronged round him like sweet but awful
+friends.
+
+He turned inquiringly towards his host. Schuabe's face was very pale;
+the calm, cruel eyes seemed agitated; he was staring at the priest.
+"Come," he said in a voice which seemed to be without its usual
+confidence; "come, this place is cold--I have sometimes thought it a
+little too bare and fantastic--come into the library; let us eat and
+talk."
+
+He turned and passed through the pillars on the right. Gortre followed
+him through the dark, heavy curtains which led to the library.
+
+They found themselves in an immense low-ceilinged room. The floor was
+covered with a thick carpet of dull blue, and their feet made no sound
+as they passed over it towards the blazing fire, which glowed in an old
+oak framework of panelling and ingle-nook brought from an ancient
+manor-house in Norfolk.
+
+At one end of the room was a small organ, cased, modern as the mechanism
+was, in priceless Renaissance painted panels from Florence and set in a
+little octagonal alcove hung with white and yellow.
+
+The enormous writing-table of dark wood stood in front of the fireplace
+and was covered with books and papers. By it was a smaller circular
+table laid with a white cloth and shining glass and silver for a meal.
+
+"My valet is in bed," said Schuabe; "I hate any one about me at night,
+and I prefer to wait on myself then. 'From the cool cisterns of the
+midnight air my spirit drinks repose.' If you will wait here a few
+moments I will go and get some food. I know where to find some. Pray
+amuse yourself by looking at my books."
+
+He left the room noiselessly, and Basil turned towards the walls. From
+ceiling to floor the immense room was lined with shelves of enamelled
+white wood, here and there carved with tiny florid bunches of fruit and
+flowers--Jacobean work it seemed.
+
+A few pictures here and there in spaces between the shelves--the hectic
+flummery of a Whistler nocturne; a woman _avec cerises_, by Manet; a
+green silk fan, painted with _fetes gallantes_, by Conder--alone broke
+the many-coloured monotony of the books.
+
+Gortre had, from his earliest Oxford days, been a lover of books and a
+collector in a moderate, discriminating way. As a rule he was roused to
+a mild enthusiasm by a fine library. But as his practised eye ran over
+the shelves, noting the beauty and variety of the contents, he was
+unmoved by any special interest. His brain, still, so it seemed, under
+some outside and compelling instinct or influence, was singularly
+detached from ordinary interests and rejected the books' appeal.
+
+Close to where he stood the shelves were covered with theological works.
+Mueller's _Lectures on the Vedanta Philosophy_, Romane's _Reply to Dr.
+Lightfoot_, De la Saussaye's _Manual_, stood together. His hand had been
+wandering unconsciously over the books when it was suddenly arrested,
+and stopped on a familiar black binding with plain gold letters. It was
+an ordinary reference edition of the Holy Bible, the "pearl" edition
+from the Oxford University Press.
+
+There was something familiar and homely in the little dark volume, which
+showed signs of constant use. A few feet away was a long shelf of Bibles
+of all kinds, rare editions, expensive copies bound up with famous
+commentaries--all the luxuries and _editions de luxe_ of Holy Writ. But
+the book beneath his fingers was the same size and shape as the one
+which stood near his own bedside in his rooms--the one which his father
+had given him when he went to Harrow, with "Flee youthful lusts" written
+on the fly-leaf in faded ink. It was homelike and familiar.
+
+He drew it out with a half smile at himself for choosing the one book he
+knew by heart from this new wealth of literature.
+
+Then a swift impulse came to him.
+
+Gortre could not be called a superstitious man. The really religious
+temperament, which, while not rejecting the aids of surface and symbol,
+has seen far below them, rarely is "superstitious" as the word has come
+to be understood.
+
+The familiar touch, the pleasant sensation of the limp, rough leather on
+his finger-balls gave him a feeling of security. But that very fact
+seemed to remind him that some danger, some subtle mental danger, was
+near. Was this Bible sent to him? he wondered. Were his eyes and hands
+_directed_ to it by the vibrating, invisible presences which he felt
+were near him? Who could say?
+
+But he took the book in his right hand, breathed a prayer for help and
+guidance--if it might so be that God, who watched him, would speak a
+message of help--and opened it at random.
+
+He was about to make a trial of that old mediaeval practice of
+"searching"--that harmless trial of faith which a modern hard-headed
+cleric has analysed so cleverly, so completely, and so entirely
+unsatisfactorily.
+
+He opened the book, with his eyes fixed in front of him, and then let
+them drop towards it. For a moment the small type was all blurred and
+indistinct, and then one text seemed to leap out at him.
+
+It was this--
+
+     "TAKE YE HEED, WATCH AND PRAY: FOR YE KNOW NOT WHEN THE TIME IS."
+
+This, then, was his message! He was to _watch_, to pray, for the time
+was at hand when--
+
+The curtain slid aside, and Schuabe entered with a tray. He had changed
+his morning coat for a long dressing-gown of camel's-hair, and wore
+scarlet leather slippers.
+
+Basil slipped the Bible back into its place and turned to face him.
+
+"I live very simply," he said, "and can offer you nothing very
+elaborate. But here is some cold chicken, a watercress salad, and a
+bottle of claret."
+
+They sat down on opposite sides of the round table and said little. Both
+men were tired and hungry. After he had eaten, the clergyman bent his
+head for a second or two in an inaudible grace, and made the sign of the
+Cross before he rose from his chair.
+
+"Symbol!" said Schuabe, with a cold smile, as he saw him.
+
+The truce was over.
+
+"What is that Cross to which all Christians bow?" he continued. "It was
+the symbol of the water-god of the Gauls, a mere piece of their
+iconography. The Phoenician ruin of Gigantica is built in the shape of a
+cross; the Druids used it in their ceremonies; it was Thor's hammer long
+before it became Christ's gibbet; it is used by the pagan Icelanders to
+this day as a magic sign in connection with storms of wind. Why, the
+symbol of Buddha on the reverse of a coin found at Ugain is the same
+cross, the 'fylfot' of Thor. The cross was carved by Brahmins a thousand
+years before Christ in the caves of Elephanta. I have seen it in India
+with my own eyes in the hands of Siva Brahma and Vishnu! The worshipper
+of Vishnu attributes as many virtues to it as the pious Roman Catholic
+here in Salford to the Christian Cross. There is the very strongest
+evidence that the origin of the cross is phallic! The _crux ansata_ was
+the sign of Venus: it appears beside Baal and Astarte!"
+
+"Very possibly, Mr. Schuabe," said Gortre, quietly. "Your knowledge on
+such points is far wider than mine; but that does not affect
+Christianity in the slightest."
+
+"Of course not! Who ever said it did? But this reverence for the cross,
+the instrument of execution on which an excellent teacher, and, as far
+as we know, a really good man, suffered, angers me because it reminds me
+of the absurd and unreasoning superstitions which cloud the minds of so
+many educated men like yourself."
+
+"Ah," said Gortre, quietly, "now we are 'gripped.' We have come to the
+point."
+
+"If you choose, Mr. Gortre," Schuabe answered; "you are an intellectual
+man, and one intellectual man has a certain right to challenge another.
+I was staying with Lord Haileybury the other day, and I spent two whole
+mornings walking over the country with the Bishop of London, talking on
+these subjects. He very ably endeavoured to bring physical and
+psychological science into a single whole. But all he seemed to me to
+prove was this, crystallised into an axiom or at least a postulate.
+_Conscious volition is the ultimate source of all force._ It is his
+belief that behind the sensuous and phenomenal world which gives it
+form, existence, and activity, lies the ultimate invisible, immeasurable
+power of Mind, conscious Will, of Intelligence, analogous to our own;
+and--mark this essential corollary--_that man is in communication with
+it_, and that was positively all he could do for me! I met him there
+easily enough, but when he tried to prove a _revelation_--Christianity
+--he utterly broke down. We parted very good friends, and I gave him a
+thousand pounds for the East London poor fund. But still, say what you
+will to me. I am here to listen."
+
+He looked calmly at the young man with his unsmiling eyes. He held a
+Russian cigarette in his fingers, and he waved it with a gentle gesture
+of invitation as if from an immeasurable superiority.
+
+And as Gortre watched him he knew that here was a brain and intelligence
+far keener and finer than his own. But with all that certainty he felt
+entirely undismayed, strangely uplifted.
+
+"I have a message for you, Mr. Schuabe," he began, and the other bowed
+slightly, without irony, at his words. "I have a message for you, one
+which I have been sent here--I firmly believe--to deliver, but it is not
+the message or the argument that you expect to hear."
+
+He stopped for a short time, marshalling his mental forces, and noticing
+a slight but perceptible look of surprise in his host's eyes.
+
+"I know you better than you imagine, sir," he said gravely, "and not as
+many other good and devout Christians see you. I tell you here to-night
+with absolute certainty that you are the active enemy of Christ--I say
+_active_ enemy."
+
+The face opposite became slightly less tranquil, but the voice was as
+calm as ever.
+
+"You speak according to your lights, Mr. Gortre," he said. "I am no
+Christian, but there is much good in Christianity. My words and writings
+may have helped to lift the veil of superstition and hereditary
+influences from the eyes of many men, and in that sense I am an enemy of
+the Christian faith, I suppose. My sincerity is my only apology--if one
+were needed. You speak with more harshness and less tolerance than I
+should have thought it your pleasure or your duty to use."
+
+Gortre rose. "Man," he cried, with sudden sternness, "I _know! You hate
+our Lord_, and would work Him evil. You are as Judas was, for to-night
+it is given me to read far into your brain."
+
+Schuabe rose quickly from his chair and stood facing him. His face was
+pallid, something looked out of his eyes which almost frightened the
+other.
+
+"What do you know?" he cried as if in a swift stroke of pain. "Who--?"
+He stopped as if by a tremendous effort.
+
+Some thought came to reassure him.
+
+"Listen," he said. "I tell you, paid priest as you are, a blind man
+leading the blind, that a day is coming when all your boasted fabric of
+Christianity will disappear. It will go suddenly, and be swept utterly
+away. And you, you shall see it. You shall be left naked of your faith,
+stripped and bare, with all Christendom beside you. Your pale Nazarene
+shall die amid the bitter laughter of the world, die as surely as He
+died two thousand years ago, and no man or woman shall resurrect Him.
+You know nothing, but you will remember my words of to-night, until you
+also become as nothing and endure the inevitable fate of mankind."
+
+He had spoken with extraordinary vehemence, hissing the words out with a
+venom and malice, general rather than particular, from which the
+Churchman shrunk, shuddering. There was such unutterable _conviction_ in
+the thin, evil voice that for a moment the pain of it was like a spasm
+of physical agony.
+
+Schuabe had thrown down the mask; it was even as Gortre said, the soul
+of Iscariot looked out from those eyes. The man saw the clergyman's
+sudden shrinking.
+
+The smile of a devil flashed over his face. Gortre had turned to him
+once more and he saw it. And as he watched an awful certainty grew
+within him, a thought so appalling that beside it all that had gone
+before sank into utter insignificance.
+
+He staggered for a moment and then rose to his full height, a fearful
+loathing in his eyes, a scorn like a whip of fire in his voice.
+
+Schuabe blanched before him, for he saw the truth in the priest's soul.
+
+"As the Lord of Hosts is my witness," cried Gortre loudly, "I know you
+now for what you are! YOU KNOW THAT CHRIST IS GOD!"
+
+Schuabe shrank into his chair.
+
+"ANTICHRIST!" pealed out the accusing voice. "You know the truth full
+well, and, knowing, in an awful presumption you have dared to lift your
+hand against God."
+
+Then there was a dead silence in the room. Schuabe sat motionless by the
+dying fire.
+
+Very slowly the colour crept back into his cheeks. Slowly the strength
+and light entered his eyes. He moved slightly.
+
+At last he spoke.
+
+"Go," he said. "Go, and never let me see your face again. You have
+spoken. Yet I tell you still that such a blinding blow shall descend on
+Christendom that----"
+
+He rose quickly from his chair. His manner changed utterly with a
+marvellous swiftness.
+
+He went to the window and pulled aside the curtain. A chill and ghostly
+dawn came creeping into the library.
+
+"Let us make an end of this," he said quietly and naturally. "Of what
+use for you and me, atoms that we are, to wrangle and thunder through
+the night over an infinity in which we have neither part nor lot? Come,
+get you homewards and rest, as I am about to do. The night has been an
+unpleasant dream. Treat it as such. We differ on great matters. Let that
+be so and we will forget it. You shall have a friend in me if you will."
+
+Gortre, hardly conscious of any voluntary movements, his brain in a
+stupor, the arteries all over his body beating like little drums, took
+the hat and coat the other handed to him, and stumbled out of the house.
+
+It was about five o'clock in the morning, raw, damp, and cold.
+
+With a white face, drawn and haggard with emotion, he strode down the
+hill. The keen air revived his physical powers, but his brain was
+whirling, whirling, till connected thought was impossible.
+
+What was it? What was the truth about that nightmare, that long, horrid
+night in the warm, rich room? His powers were failing; he must see a
+doctor after breakfast.
+
+When he reached the foot of the hill, and was about to turn down the
+road which led to his rooms, he stopped to rest for a moment.
+
+From far behind the hill, over the dark, silhouetted houses of the
+wealthy people who lived upon it, a huge, formless pall of purple smoke
+was rising, and almost blotting out the dawn in a Titanic curtain of
+gloom. The feeble new-born sun flickered redly through it, the colour of
+blood. There was no wind that morning, and the fog and smoke from the
+newly lit factory chimneys in the Irwell valley could not be dispersed.
+It crept over the town like doom itself--menacing, vast, unconquerable.
+
+He pulled out his latch-key with trembling hand, and turned to enter his
+own door.
+
+The cloud was spreading.
+
+"Lighten our darkness," he whispered to himself, half consciously, and
+then fell fainting on the door-step, where they found him soon, and
+carried him in to the sick-bed, where he lay sick of a brain-fever a
+month or more.
+
+_Lighten our darkness!_
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+A LOST SOUL
+
+
+In his great room at the British Museum, great, that is, for the private
+room of an official, Robert Llwellyn sat at his writing-desk finishing
+the last few lines of his article on the Hebrew inscription in mosaic,
+which had been discovered at Kefr Kenna.
+
+It was about four in the afternoon, growing dark with the peculiarly
+sordid and hopeless twilight of a winter's afternoon in central London.
+A reading lamp upon the desk threw a bright circle of light on the sheet
+of white unlined paper covered with minute writing, which lay before the
+keeper of Biblical antiquities in the British Museum.
+
+The view from the tall windows was hideous and almost sinister in its
+ugliness. Nothing met the eye but the gloomy backs of some of the great
+dingy lodging-houses which surround the Museum, bedroom windows, back
+bedrooms with dingy curtains, vulgarly unlovely.
+
+The room itself was official looking, but far from uncomfortable. There
+were many book-shelves lining the walls. Over them hung large-framed
+photographs and drawings of inscriptions. On a stand by itself, covered
+with a glass shade, was a duplicate of Dr. Schick's model of the Haram
+Area during the Christian occupation of Jerusalem.
+
+A dull fire glowed in the large open fireplace.
+
+Llwellyn wrote a final line with a sigh of relief and then leaned far
+back in his swivel chair. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were dull
+with some inward communing, apparently of a disturbing and unpleasant
+kind.
+
+The door opened noiselessly (all the dwellers in the mysterious private
+parts of the Museum walk without noise, and seem to have caught in their
+voices something of that almost religious reverence emanating from
+surroundings out of the immemorial past), and Lambert, the assistant
+keeper and secretary, entered.
+
+He drew up a chair to the writing-desk.
+
+"The firman has been granted!" he said.
+
+A quick interest shone on Professor Llwellyn's face.
+
+"Ah!" he said, "it has come at last, then, after all these months of
+waiting. I began to despair of the Turkish Government. I never thought
+it would be granted. Then the Society will really begin to excavate at
+last in the prohibited spots! Really that is splendid news, Lambert. We
+shall have some startling results. Results, mind you, which will be
+historical, historical! I doubt but that the whole theory of the Gospel
+narrative will have to be reconstructed during the next few years!"
+
+"It is quite possible," said Lambert. "But, on the other hand, it may
+happen that nothing whatever is found."
+
+Llwellyn nodded. Then a sudden thought seemed to strike him. "But how do
+you know of this, Lambert?" he said, "and how has it happened?"
+
+Lambert was a pleasant, open-faced fellow, young, and with a certain air
+of distinction. He laughed gaily, and returned his chief's look of
+interest with an affectionate expression in his eyes.
+
+"Ah!" he said, "I have heard a great deal, sir, and I have some thing to
+tell you which I am very happy about. It is gratifying to bring you the
+first news. Last night I was dining with my uncle, Sir Michael
+Manichoe, you know. The Home Secretary was there, a great friend of my
+uncle's. You know the great interest he takes in the work of the
+Exploration Society, and his general interest in the Holy Land?"
+
+"Oh, of course," said Llwellyn. "He's the leader of the uncompromising
+Protestant party in the House; owes his position to it, in fact. He
+breakfasts with the Septuagint, lunches off the Gospels, and sups with
+Revelations. Well?"
+
+"It is owing to his personal interest in the work," continued Lambert,
+"that the Sultan has granted the firman. After dinner he took me aside,
+and we had a longish talk. He was very gracious, and most eager to hear
+of all our recent work here, and additions to the collections in our
+department. I was extremely pleased, as you may imagine. He spoke of
+you, sir, as the greatest living authority--wouldn't hear of Conrad
+Schick or Clermont-Ganneau in the same breath with you. He went on to
+say in confidence, and he hinted to me that I had his permission to tell
+you, though he didn't say as much in so many words, that they are going
+to offer you knighthood in a few days!"
+
+A sudden flush suffused the face of the elder man. Then he laughed a
+little.
+
+"Your news is certainly unexpected, my dear boy," he said, "and, for my
+part, knighthood is no very welcome thing personally. But it would be
+idle to deny that I'm pleased. It means recognition of my work, you see.
+In that way only, it is good news that you have brought."
+
+"That's just it, Professor," the young man answered enthusiastically.
+"That's exactly it. Sir Robert Llwellyn, or Mr. Llwellyn, of course,
+cannot matter to you personally. But it _is_ a fitting and graceful
+recognition of the _work_. It is a proper thing that the greatest
+living authority on the antiquities and history of Asia Minor should be
+officially recognised. It encourages all of us, you see, Professor."
+
+The young man's generous excitement pleased Llwellyn. He placed his hand
+upon his shoulder with a kindly, affectionate gesture.
+
+At that moment a messenger knocked and entered with a bundle of letters,
+which had just arrived by the half-past-four post, and, with a
+congratulatory shake of the hand, Lambert left his chief to his
+correspondence.
+
+The great specialist, when he had left the room, rose from his chair,
+went towards the door with swift, cat-like steps, and locked it. Then he
+returned to the desk, opened a deep drawer with a key which he drew from
+his watch-pocket, and took a silver-mounted flask of brandy from the
+receptacle. He poured a small dose of brandy into the metal cup and
+drank it hurriedly.
+
+Then he leaned back once more in his chair.
+
+Professor Llwellyn's face was familiar to all readers of the illustrated
+press. He was one of the few famous _savants_ whose name was a household
+word not only to his colleagues and the learned generally, but also to
+the great mass of the general public.
+
+In every department of effort and work there are one or two men whose
+personality seems to catch the popular eye.
+
+His large, clean-shaven face might have belonged to a popular comedian;
+his portly figure had still nothing of old age about it. He was
+sprightly and youthful in manner despite his fat. The small, merry,
+green eyes--eyes which had yet something furtive and "alarmed" in them
+at times--stood for a concrete personification of good humour. His
+somewhat sensual lips were always smiling and jolly on public occasions.
+His enormous erudition and acknowledged place among the learned of
+Europe went so strangely with his appearance that the world was pleased
+and tickled by the paradox.
+
+It was a fine thing to think that the spectacled Dry-as-dust was gone.
+That era of animated mummy was over, and when The World read of
+Professor Llwellyn at a first night of the Lyceum, or the guest of
+honour at the Savage Club, it forgot to jeer at his abstruse erudition.
+
+Scholars admitted his scholarship, and ordinary men and women welcomed
+him as _homme du monde_.
+
+The Professor replaced the flask in the drawer and locked it. His hand
+trembled as he did so. The light which shone on the white face showed it
+eloquent with dread and despair. Here, in the privacy of the huge,
+comfortable room, was a soul in an anguish that no mortal eyes could
+see.
+
+The Professor had locked the door.
+
+The letters which the messenger had brought were many in number and
+various in shape and style.
+
+Five or six of them, which bore foreign stamps and indications that they
+came from the Continental antiquarian societies, he put on one side to
+be opened and replied to on the morrow.
+
+Then he took up an envelope addressed to him in firm black writing and
+turned it over. On the flap was the white, embossed oval and crown,
+which showed that it came from the House of Commons. His florid face
+became paler than before, the flesh of it turned grey, an unpleasant
+sight in so large and ample a countenance, as he tore it open. The
+letter ran as follows:
+
+     "HOUSE OF COMMONS.
+
+     "DEAR LLWELLYN,--I am writing to you now to say that I am quite
+     determined that the present situation shall not continue. You must
+     understand, finally, that my patience is exhausted, and that,
+     unless the large sum you owe me is repaid within the next week, my
+     solicitors have my instructions, which are quite unalterable, to
+     proceed in bankruptcy against you without further delay.
+
+     "The principal and interest now total to the sum of fourteen
+     thousand pounds. Your promises to repay, and your innumerable
+     requests for more time in which to do so, now extend over a period
+     of three years. I have preserved all your letters on the subject at
+     issue between us, and I find that, so far from decreasing your
+     indebtedness when your promises became due, you have almost
+     invariably asked me for further sums, which, in foolish confidence,
+     as I feel now, I have advanced to you.
+
+     "It would be superfluous to point out to you what bankruptcy would
+     mean to you in your position. Ruin would be the only word. And it
+     would be no ordinary bankruptcy. I have a by no means uncertain
+     idea where these large sums have gone, and my knowledge can hardly
+     fail to be shared by others in London society.
+
+     "I have still a chance to offer you, however, and, perhaps, you
+     will find me by no means the tyrant you think.
+
+     "There are certain services which you can do me, and which, if you
+     fall in with my views, will not only wipe off the few thousands of
+     your indebtedness, but provide you with a capital sum which will
+     place you above the necessity for any such financial manoeuvres in
+     the future as your--shall I say _infatuation_?--has led you to
+     resort to in the past.
+
+     "If you care to lunch with me at my rooms in the Hotel Cecil, at
+     two o'clock, the day after to-morrow--Friday--we may discuss your
+     affairs quietly. If not, then I must refer you to my solicitors
+     entirely.
+
+     "Yours sincerely,
+          "CONSTANTINE SCHUABE."
+
+The big man gave a horrid groan--half snarl, half groan--the sound
+which comes from a strong animal desperate and at bay.
+
+He crossed over to the fireplace and pushed the letter down into a
+glowing cavern among the coals, holding it there with the poker until it
+was utterly consumed and fluttered up the chimney from his sight in a
+sheet of ash--the very colour of his relaxed and pendulous cheeks.
+
+He opened another letter, a small, fragile thing written on mauve paper,
+in a large, irregular hand--a woman's hand:--
+
+
+     "15 BLOOMSBURY COURT MANSIONS.
+
+     "DEAR BOB--I shall expect you at the flat to-night at eleven,
+     _without fail_. You'd better come, or things which you won't like
+     will happen.
+
+     "You've just _got_ to come.--Yours,    GERTRUDE."
+
+He put this letter into his pocket and began to walk the room in long,
+silent strides.
+
+A little after five he put on a heavy fur coat and left the now silent
+and gloomy halls of the Museum.
+
+The lamps of Holborn were lit and a blaze of light came from Oxford
+Circus, where the winking electric advertisements had just begun their
+work on the tops of the houses.
+
+A policeman saluted the Professor as he passed, and was rewarded by a
+genial smile and jolly word of greeting, which sent a glow of pleasure
+through his six feet.
+
+Llwellyn walked steadily on towards the Marble Arch and Edgeware Road.
+The continual roar of the traffic helped his brain. It became active and
+able to think, to plan once more. The steady exercise warmed his blood
+and exhilarated him.
+
+There began to be almost a horrid pleasure in the stress of his
+position. The danger was so immediate and fell; the blow would be so
+utterly irreparable, that he was near to enjoying his walk while he
+could still consider the thing from a detached point of view.
+
+Throughout life that had always been his power. A strange resilience had
+animated him in all chances and changes of fortune.
+
+He was that almost inhuman phenomenon, a sensualist with a soul.
+
+For many years, while his name became great in Europe and the solid
+brilliancy of his work grew in lustre as he in age, he had lived two
+lives, finding an engrossing joy in each.
+
+The lofty scientific world of which he was an ornament had no points of
+contact with that other and unspeakable half-life. Rumours had been
+bruited, things said in secret by envious and less distinguished men,
+but they had never harmed him. His colleagues hardly understood them and
+cared nothing. His work was all-sufficient; what did it matter if
+smaller people with forked tongues hissed horrors of his private life?
+
+The other circles--the lost slaves of pleasure--knew him well and were
+content. He came into the night-world a welcome guest. They knew nothing
+of his work or fame beyond dim hintings of things too uninteresting for
+them to bother about.
+
+He turned down the Edgeware Road and then into quiet Upper Berkeley
+Street, a big, florid, prosperous-looking man, looking as though the
+world used him well and he was content with all it had to offer.
+
+His house was but a few doors down the street and he went up-stairs to
+dress at once. He intended to dine at home that night.
+
+His dressing-room, out of which a small bedroom opened, was large and
+luxurious. A clear fire glowed upon the hearth; the carpet was soft and
+thick. The great dressing-table with its three-sided mirror was covered
+with brushes and ivory jars, gleaming brightly in the rays of the little
+electric lights which framed the mirror. A huge wardrobe, full of
+clothes neatly folded and put away, suggested a man about town, a dandy
+with many sartorial interests. An arm-chair of soft green leather,
+stamped with red-gold pomegranates, stood by a small black table
+stencilled with orange-coloured bees. On the table stood a cigarette-box
+of finely plaited cream-coloured straw, woven over silver and
+cedar-wood, and with Llwellyn's initials in turquoise on one lid.
+
+He threw off his coat and sank into the chair with a sigh of pleasure at
+the embracing comfort of it. Then his fingers plunged into the tea which
+filled the box on the table and drew out a tiny yellow cigarette.
+
+He smoked in luxurious silence.
+
+He had already half forgotten the menacing letter from Constantine
+Schuabe, the imperative summons to the flat in Bloomsbury Court
+Mansions. This was a moment of intense physical ease. The flavour of his
+saffron Salonika cigarette, a tiny glass of garnet-coloured _cassis_
+which he had poured out, were alike excellent. All day long he had been
+at work on a brilliant monograph dealing with the new Hebrew mosaics.
+Only two other living men could have written it. But his work also had
+fallen out of his brain. At that moment he was no more than a great
+animal, soulless, with the lusts of the flesh pouring round him,
+whispering evil and stinging his blood.
+
+A timid knock fell upon the door outside. It opened and Mrs. Llwellyn
+came slowly in.
+
+The Professor's wife was a tall, thin woman. Her untidy clothes hung
+round her body in unlovely folds. Her complexion was muddy and
+unwholesome; but the unsmiling, withered lips revealed a row of fair,
+white, even teeth. It was in her eyes that one read the secret of this
+lady. They were large and blue, once beautiful, so one might have
+fancied. Now the light had faded from them and they were blurred and
+full of pain.
+
+She came slowly up to her husband's chair, placing one hand timidly upon
+it.
+
+"Oh, is that you?" he said, not brutally, but with a complete and utter
+indifference. "I shall want some dinner at home to-night. I shall be
+going out about ten to a supper engagement. See about it now, something
+light. And tell one of the maids to bring up some hot water."
+
+"Yes, Robert," she said, and went out with no further word, but sighing
+a little as she closed the door quietly.
+
+They had been married fifteen years. For fourteen of them he had hardly
+ever spoken to her except in anger at some household accident. On her
+own private income of six hundred a year she had to do what she could to
+keep the house going. Llwellyn never gave her anything of the thousand a
+year which was his salary at the Museum, and the greater sums he earned
+by his work outside it. She knew no one, the Professor went into none
+but official society, and indeed but few of his colleagues knew that he
+was a married man. He treated the house as a hotel, sleeping there
+occasionally, breakfasting, and dressing. His private rooms were the
+only habitable parts of the house. All the rest was old, faded, and
+without comfort. Mrs. Llwellyn spent most of her life with the two
+servants in the kitchen.
+
+She always swept and tidied her husband's rooms herself. That afternoon
+she had built and coaxed the fire with her own hands.
+
+She slept in a small room at the top of the house, next to the maids,
+for company.
+
+This was her life.
+
+Over the head of the little iron bedstead of her room hung a great
+crucifix.
+
+That was her hope.
+
+When Llwellyn was rioting in nameless places she prayed for him during
+the night. She prayed for him, for herself, and for the two servant
+girls, very simply--that Heaven might receive them all some day.
+
+The maid brought up some dinner for the Professor--a little soup, a
+sole, and some _camembert_.
+
+He ate slowly, and smoked a short light-brown cigar with his coffee.
+Then he bathed, put on evening clothes, dressing himself with care and
+circumspection, and left the house.
+
+In the Edgeware Road he got into a hansom and told the man to drive him
+to Bloomsbury Court Mansions.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE WHISPER
+
+
+Robert Llwellyn paid the cabman outside the main gateway which led into
+the courtyard, and dismissed him.
+
+The Court Mansions were but a few hundred yards from the British Museum
+itself, though he never visited them in the day time. A huge building,
+like a great hotel, rose skyward in a square. In the quadrangle in the
+centre, which was paved with asphalt, was an ornamental fountain
+surrounded by evergreen plants in tubs.
+
+The Professor strode under the archway, his feet echoing in the
+stillness, and passed over the open space, which was brilliantly lit
+with the hectic radiance of arc lamps. He entered one of the doorways,
+and turning to the right of the ground-floor, away from the lift which
+was in waiting to convey passengers to the higher storeys, he stopped at
+No. 15.
+
+He took a latch-key from his pocket, opened the door, and entered. It
+was very warm and close inside, and very silent also. The narrow hall
+was lit by a crimson-globed electric lamp. It was heavily carpeted, and
+thick curtains of plum-coloured plush, edged with round, fluffy balls of
+the same colour, hung over the doors leading into it.
+
+He hung his hat up on a peg, and stood perfectly silent for a moment in
+the warm, scented air. He could hear no sound but the ticking of a
+French clock. The flat was obviously empty; and pulling aside one of
+the curtains, he went into the dining-room.
+
+The place was full of light. Gertrude Hunt, or her maid, had, with
+characteristic carelessness, forgotten to turn off the switches.
+Llwellyn sat down and looked around him. How familiar the place was! The
+casual visitor would have recognised at a glance that the occupant of
+the room belonged to the dramatic profession.
+
+Photographs abounded everywhere. The satinwood overmantel was crowded
+with them in heavy frames of chased silver. Bold enlargements hung on
+the crimson walls; they were upright, and stacked in disorderly heaps
+upon the grand piano.
+
+All were of one woman--a dark Jewish girl with eyes full of a fixed
+fascination, a trained regard of allurement.
+
+The eyes pursued him everywhere; bold and inviting, he was conscious of
+their multitude, and moved uneasily.
+
+The dining-table was in a curious litter. Half-empty cups of egg-shell
+china stood upon a tray of Japanese lacquer inlaid with ivory and
+silver; a cake basket held pink and honey-coloured bon-bons, among which
+some cigarette ends had fallen. Two empty bottles, which had held
+champagne, stood side by side, cheek by jowl, with a gilt tray, on which
+was a miniature methyl lamp and some steel curling tongs.
+
+The arm-chairs were upholstered in pink satin. On one of them was a long
+fawn-coloured tailor-made coat, hanging collar downwards over the back.
+A handful of silver and a tiny gun-metal cigarette case had dropped out
+of a pocket on to the seat of the chair.
+
+The whole place reeked with a well-known perfume--an evil, sickly smell
+of ripe lilies and the acrid smoke of Egyptian tobacco. A frilled
+dressing jacket covered with yellowish lace lay in a tumbled heap upon
+the hearth-rug.
+
+The room would have struck an ordinary visitor with a sense of nausea
+almost like a physical blow. There was something sordidly shameless
+about it. The vulgarest and most material of Circes held sway among all
+this gaudy and lavish disorder. The most sober-living and
+innocent-minded man, brought suddenly into such a place, would have
+known it instantly for what it was, and turned to fly as from a
+pestilence.
+
+A week or two before, a picture of this den had appeared in one of the
+illustrated papers. Underneath the photograph had been printed--
+
+    "THE BOUDOIR OF ONE OF LONDON'S POPULAR FAVOURITES.
+
+    MISS GERTRUDE HUNT AT HOME."
+
+Below had been another picture--"Miss Hunt in her new motor-car." Robert
+Llwellyn had paid four hundred pounds for the machine.
+
+The big man seemed to fit into these surroundings as a hand into a
+glove. In his room at the Museum, on a platform at the Royal Society,
+his intellect always animated his face. In such places his personality
+was eminent, as his work also.
+
+Here he was changed. Silenus was twin to him; he sniffed the perfume
+with pleasure; he stretched himself to the heat and warmth like a great
+cat. He was an integral part of the _mise-en-scene_--lost, and arrogant
+of his degradation.
+
+A key clicked in the lock, there was a rustling of silk, and Gertrude
+Hunt swept into the room.
+
+"So you're come to time, then," she said in a deep, musical voice, but
+spoilt by an unpleasing Cockney twang. "I'm dead tired. The theatre was
+crammed; I had to sing the _Coon of Coons_ twice. Get me a
+brandy-and-soda, Bob. There's a good boy--the decanter's in the
+sideboard."
+
+She threw off her long cloak and sank into a chair. The sticky
+grease-paint of the theatre had hardly been removed. She looked, as she
+said, worn out.
+
+They chatted for a few moments on indifferent subjects, and she lit a
+cigarette. When she took it from her lips, Llwellyn noticed that the end
+was crimsoned by the paint upon them.
+
+"Well," she said at length, "somehow or other you must pay those bills I
+sent on to you. They _must_ be paid. I can't do it. I'm only getting
+twenty-five pounds from the theatre now, and that's just about enough to
+pay my drink bill!"
+
+Llwellyn's face clouded. "I'm just about at my last gasp myself," he
+said. "I'm threatened with bankruptcy as it is."
+
+"Oh, cheer up!" she cried. "Here, have a B. and S. I do hate to hear any
+one talk like that. It gives me the hump at once. Now look here, Bob.
+You know that I like you better than any one else. We've been pals for
+seven or eight years now, and I'd rather have you a thousand times than
+the others. You understand that, don't you?"
+
+He nodded back at her. His face was pleased at her expression of
+affection, at the kindness of this dancing-girl to the great scholar!
+
+"But," she continued, "you know me, and you know that I can't go on
+unless I have what I want all the time. And I want a lot, too. If you
+can't give it me, Bob, it must be some one else--that's all. Captain
+Parker's ready to do anything, any time. He's almost a millionaire, you
+know. Can't you raise any 'oof anyhow? If I'd a thousand at once, and
+another in a week or two, I could manage for a bit. But I _must_ have a
+river-house at Shepperton. That cat, Lulu Wallace, has one, and an
+electric launch and all. What about your German friend--the M.P.? _He's_
+got tons of stuff. Touch him for a bit more."
+
+"Had a letter from him this afternoon," said Llwellyn, "with a demand
+for about fourteen thousand that I owe him now. Threatens to sell me up.
+But there was something which looked brighter at the end of the letter,
+though I couldn't quite make out what he was driving at."
+
+"What was that?"
+
+"The tone of the letter changed; it had been nasty before. He said that
+I could do him a service for which he would not only wipe out the old
+debt, but for which I could get a lot more money."
+
+"You'll go to him at once, Bob, won't you?"
+
+"I suppose I must. There's no way out of it. I can't think, though, how
+I can do him any service. He's a dabbler, an amateur in my own work, but
+he's not going to pay a good many thousands for any help in _that_."
+
+"Let it alone till you find out," she said, with the instinctive dislike
+of her class to the prolonged discussion of anything unpleasant. She got
+up and rang the bell for her maid and supper.
+
+For some reason Llwellyn could eat nothing. A weight oppressed him--a
+presage of danger and disaster. The unspeakable mental torments that the
+vicious man who is highly educated undergoes--torments which assail him
+in the very act and article of his pleasures--have never been adequately
+described. "What a frail structure his honours and positions were," he
+thought as the woman chatted of the _coulisses_ and the blackguard news
+of the _demi-monde_. His indulgent life had acted on the Professor with
+a dire physical effect. His nerves were unstrung and he became
+childishly superstitious. The slightest hint of misfortune set his brain
+throbbing with a horrid fear. The spectre of overwhelming disaster was
+always waiting, and he could not exorcise it.
+
+The two accidental and trivial facts that the knives at his place were
+crossed, and that he spilt the salt as he was passing it to his
+mistress, set him crossing himself with nervous rapidity.
+
+The girl laughed at him, but she was interested nevertheless. For the
+moment they were on an intellectual level. He explained that the sign of
+the Cross was said to avert misfortune, and she imitated him clumsily.
+
+Llwellyn thought nothing of it at the time, but the meaningless travesty
+came back afterwards when he thought over that eventful night.
+
+Surely the holy sign of God's pain was never so degraded as now.
+
+Their conversation grew fitful and strained. The woman was physically
+tired by her work at the theatre, and the dark cloud of menace crept
+more rapidly into the man's brain. The hour grew late. At last Llwellyn
+rose to go.
+
+"You'll get the cash somehow, dear, won't you?" she said with tired
+eagerness.
+
+"Yes, yes, Gertie," he replied. "I suppose I can get it somehow. I'll
+get home now. If it's a clear night I shall walk home. I'm
+depressed--it's liver, I suppose--and I need exercise."
+
+"Have a drink before you go?"
+
+"No, I've had two, and I can't take spirits at this time."
+
+He went out with a perfunctory and uninterested kiss. She came to the
+archway with him.
+
+London was now quite silent in its most mysterious and curious hour.
+The streets were deserted, but brilliantly lit by the long row of lamps.
+
+They stood talking for a moment or two in the quadrangle.
+
+"Queer!" she said; "queer, isn't it, just now? I walked back from the
+Covent Garden ball once at this time. Makes you feel lonesome. Well, so
+long, Bob. I shall have a hot bath and go to bed."
+
+The Professor's feet echoed loudly on the flags as he approached the
+open space. Never had he seemed to hear the noises of his own progress
+so clearly before. It was disconcerting, and emphasised the fact of his
+sole movement in this lighted city of the dead.
+
+On the island in the centre of the cross-roads he suddenly caught sight
+of a tall policeman standing motionless under a lamp. The fellow seemed
+a figure of metal hypnotised by the silence.
+
+Llwellyn walked onwards, when, just as he was passing the Oxford Music
+Hall, he became conscious of quick footsteps behind him. He turned
+quickly, and a man came up. He was of middle size, with polite, watchful
+eyes and clean shaven.
+
+The stranger put his hand into the pocket of his neat, unobtrusive black
+overcoat and drew out a letter.
+
+"For you, sir," he said in calm, ordinary tones.
+
+The Professor stared at him in uncontrollable surprise and took the
+envelope, opening it under a lamp. This was the note. He recognised the
+handwriting at once.
+
+     "HOTEL CECIL.
+
+     "DEAR LLWELLYN,--Kindly excuse the suddenness of my request and
+     come down to the Cecil with my valet. I have sent him to meet you.
+     I want to settle our business to-night, and I am certain that we
+     shall be able to make some satisfactory arrangement. I know you do
+     not go to bed early.--Most sincerely yours,
+
+          "CONSTANTINE SCHUABE."
+
+"This is a very sudden request," he said to the servant rather
+doubtfully, but somewhat reassured by the friendly signature of the
+note. "Why, it's two o'clock in the morning!"
+
+"Extremely sorry to trouble you, sir," replied the valet civilly, "but
+my master's strict orders were that I should find you and deliver the
+note. He told me that you would probably be visiting at Bloomsbury Court
+Mansions, so I waited about, hoping to meet you. I brought the _coupe_,
+sir, in case we should not be able to get you a cab."
+
+Following the direction of his glance, Llwellyn saw that a small
+rubber-tired brougham to seat two people was coming slowly down the
+road. The coachman touched his hat as the Professor got in, and, turning
+down Charing Cross Road, in a few minutes they drove rapidly into the
+courtyard of the hotel.
+
+Schuabe had not been established at the Cecil for any length of time.
+Though he owned a house in Curzon Street, this was let for a long period
+to Miss Mosenthal, his aunt, and he had hitherto lived in chambers at
+the Albany.
+
+But he found the life at the hotel more convenient and suited to his
+temperament. His suite of rooms was one of the most costly even in that
+great river palace of to-day, but such considerations need never enter
+into his life.
+
+The utter unquestioned freedom of such a life, its entire liberation
+from any restraint or convention, suited him exactly.
+
+Llwellyn had never visited Schuabe in his private apartments before at
+any time. As he was driven easily to the meeting he nerved himself for
+it, summoning up all his resolution. He swept aside the enervating
+influences of the last few hours.
+
+Schuabe was waiting in the large sitting-room with balconies upon which
+he could look down upon the embankment and the river. It was his
+favourite among all the rooms of the suite.
+
+He looked gravely and also a little curiously at the Professor as he
+entered the room. There was a question in his eyes; the guest had a
+sensation of being measured and weighed with some definite purpose.
+
+The greeting was cordial enough. "I am very sorry, Llwellyn, to catch
+you suddenly like this," Schuabe said, "but I should like to settle the
+business between us without delay. I have certain proposals to make you,
+and if we agree upon them there will be much to consider, as the thing
+is a big one. But before we talk of this let me offer you something to
+eat."
+
+The Professor had recovered his hunger. The chill of the night air, the
+sudden excitement of the summons, and, though he did not realise it, the
+absence of patchouli odours in his nostrils, had recalled an appetite.
+
+The space and air of the huge room, with its high roof, was soothing
+after Bloomsbury Court Mansions.
+
+Supper was spread for two on a little round table by the windows.
+Schuabe ate little, but watched the other with keen, detective eyes,
+talking meanwhile of ordinary, trivial things. Nothing escaped him, the
+little gleam of pleasure in Llwellyn's eyes at the freshness of the
+caviare, the Spanish olives he took with his partridge--rejecting the
+smaller French variety--the impassive watchful eyes saw it all.
+
+It was too late for coffee, Llwellyn said, when the man brought it, in a
+long-handled brass pan from Constantinople, but he took a _kuemmel_
+instead.
+
+The two men faced each other on each side of the table. Both were
+smoking. For a moment there was silence; the critical time was at hand.
+Then Schuabe spoke. His voice was cold and steady and very businesslike.
+As he talked the voice seemed to wrap round Llwellyn like steel bands.
+There was something relentless and inevitable about it; bars seemed
+rising as he spoke.
+
+"I am going to be quite frank with you, Llwellyn," he said, "and you
+will find it better to be quite frank with me."
+
+He took a paper from the pocket of his smoking jacket and referred to it
+occasionally.
+
+"You owe me now about fourteen thousand pounds?"
+
+"Yes, it is roughly that."
+
+"Please correct me if I am wrong in any point. Your salary at the
+British Museum is a thousand pounds a year, and you make about fifteen
+hundred more."
+
+"Yes, about that, but how do you----"
+
+"I have made it my business to know everything, Professor. For example,
+they are about to offer you knighthood."
+
+Llwellyn stirred uneasily, and the hand which stretched out for another
+cigarette shook a little.
+
+"I need hardly point out to you," the cold words went on, and a certain
+sternness began to enforce them, "I need hardly point out that if I were
+to take certain steps, your position would be utterly ruined."
+
+"Bankruptcy need not entirely ruin a man."
+
+"It would ruin you. You see _I know where the money has gone_. Your
+private tastes are nothing to me, and it is not my business if you
+choose to spend a fortune on a cocotte. But in your position, as the
+very mainspring and arm of the Higher Criticism of the Bible, the
+revelations which would most certainly be made would ruin you
+irreparably. Your official posts would all go at once, your name would
+become a public scandal everywhere. In England one may do just what one
+likes if only one does not in any way, by reason of position or
+attainments, belong to the nation. You _do_ belong to the nation. You
+can never defy public opinion. With the ethical point of view I have
+nothing personally to do. But to speak plainly, in the eyes of the great
+mass of English people you would be stamped as an irredeemably vicious
+man, if everything came out. That is what they would call you. At one
+blow everything--knighthood, honour, place--all would flash away.
+Moreover, you would have to give up the other side of your life. There
+would be no more suppers with Phryne or rides to Richmond in the new
+motor-car."
+
+He laughed, a low, contemptuous laugh which stung. Llwellyn's face had
+grown pale. His large, white fingers picked uneasily at the table-cloth.
+
+His position was very clearly shown to him, with greater horror and
+vividness than ever it had come to him before, even in his moments of
+acutest depression.
+
+The overthrow would be indeed utter and complete. With the greedy
+imagination of the sensualist he saw himself living in some cheap
+foreign town, Bruges perhaps, or Brussels, upon his wife's small income,
+bereft alike of work and pleasure.
+
+"All you say is true," he murmured as the other made an end. "I am in
+your power. It is best to be plain about these things. What is your
+alternative?"
+
+"My alternative, if you accept it, will mean certain changes to you.
+First of all, it will be necessary for you to obtain a year's leave from
+the British Museum. I had thought of asking you to resign your position,
+but that will not be necessary, I think, now. This can be arranged with
+a specialist easily enough. Even if your health does not really warrant
+it, a word from me to Sir James Fyfe will manage that. You will have to
+travel. In return for your services and your absolute secrecy--though
+when you hear my proposals you will realise that perhaps in the whole
+history of the world never was secrecy so important to any man's
+safety--I will do as follows. I will wipe off your debt at once. I will
+pay you ten thousand pounds in cash this week, and during the year, as
+may be agreed upon between us, I will make over forty thousand pounds
+more to you. In all fifty thousand pounds, exclusive of your debt."
+
+His voice had not been raised, nor did it show any excitement during
+this tremendous proposal. The effect on Llwellyn was very different. He
+rose from his chair, trembling with excitement, staring with bloodshot
+eyes at the beautiful chiselled face below.
+
+"You--you _mean_ it?" he said huskily.
+
+The millionaire made a single confirmatory gesture.
+
+Then the whole magnitude and splendour of the offer became gradually
+plain to him in all its significance.
+
+"I suppose," he said, "that, as the payment is great, the risk is
+commensurate."
+
+"There will be none if you do what I shall ask properly. Only two other
+men living would do it, and, first and foremost, you will have to guard
+against _their_ vigilance."
+
+"Then, in God's name, what do you ask?" Llwellyn almost shouted. The
+tension was almost unbearable.
+
+Schuabe rose from his seat. For the first time the Professor saw that he
+was terribly agitated. His eyes glowed, the apple in his throat worked
+convulsively.
+
+"_You are to change the history of the world!_"
+
+He drew Llwellyn into the very centre of the room, and held him firmly
+by the elbows. Tall as the Professor was, Schuabe was taller, and he
+bent and whispered into the other's ear for a full five minutes.
+
+There was no sound in the room but the low hissing of his sibilants.
+
+Llwellyn's face became white, and then ashen grey. His whole body seemed
+to shrink from his clothes; he trembled terribly.
+
+Then he broke away from his host and ran to the fireplace with an odd,
+jerky movement, and sank cowering into an arm-chair, filled with an
+unutterable dread.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As morning stole into the room the Professor took a bundle of bills and
+acknowledgements from Schuabe and thrust them into the fire with a great
+sob of relief.
+
+Then he turned into a bedroom and sank into the deep slumber of absolute
+exhaustion.
+
+He did not go to the Museum that day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+LAST WORDS AT WALKTOWN
+
+
+The great building of the Walktown national schools blazed with light.
+Every window was a patch of vivid orange in the darkness of the walls.
+The whole place was pervaded by a loud, whirring hum of talk and
+laughter and an incredible rattle of plates and saucers.
+
+In one of the classrooms down-stairs Helena Byars, with a dozen other
+ladies of the parish, presided over a scene of intense activity. Huge
+urns of tea ready mixed with the milk and sugar, were being carried up
+the stone stairs to the big schoolroom by willing hands. Piles of thick
+sandwiches of ham, breakfast-cups of mustard, hundreds of slices of
+moist wedge-shaped cake covered the tables, lessening rapidly as they
+were carried away to the crowded rooms above.
+
+A Lancashire church tea-party was in full swing, for this was the
+occasion when Basil Gortre was to say an official farewell to the people
+among whom he had worked in the North.
+
+In the tea-room itself several hundred people were making an enormous
+meal at long tables, under flaring, naked gas-lights, which sent
+shimmering vapours of heat up to the pitch-pine beams of the room above.
+
+On the walls of the schoolroom hung long, map-like pictures, heavily
+glazed. Some of them were representations of foreign animals, or trees
+and plants, with the names printed below each in thick black type.
+Others represented scenes from the life of Christ, and though somewhat
+stiff and wooden, showed clearly the immense strides that educational
+art has taken during the past few years.
+
+At one end of the room was a platform running along its length. Some
+palms and tree-ferns in pots, chairs, a grand piano, and some music
+stands, promised a concert when tea should be over.
+
+All the ladies of the parish were acting as attendants, or presiding at
+the urns on each table. There could be no doubt that the people were in
+a state of high good humour and enjoyment. Every now and again a great
+roar of laughter would break through the prevailing hum from one table
+or another. Despite the almost stifling heat and a mixed odour of
+humanity and ham, which a sensitive person might have shrunk from, the
+rough, merry Lancashire folk were happy as may be.
+
+Basil Gortre, in his long, black coat, his skin somewhat pale from his
+long illness, walked from table to table, spending a few minutes at
+each. His face was wreathed in perpetual smiles, and roars of laughter
+followed each sally of his wit, a homely cut-and-thrust style of humour
+adapted to his audience. The fat mothers of families, wives of
+prosperous colliers and artisans, with their thick gold earrings and
+magenta frocks, beamed motherhood and kindliness at him. The
+Sunday-school teachers giggled and blushed with pleasure when he spoke.
+
+The vicar, smiling paternally as was his wont, walked up and down the
+gangways also, toying with the _pince-nez_ at his breast, and very
+successfully concealing the fact from every one that he was by no means
+in the seventh heaven of happiness. Tea-parties, so numerous and popular
+in the North, were always somewhat of a trial to him.
+
+Basil and Mr. Byars met in the middle of the room when the tea was
+nearly over. Tears were gleaming in the eyes of the younger man.
+
+"It is hard to leave them all," he said. "How good and kind they are,
+how hearty! And these are the people I thought disliked me and
+misunderstood me. I resented what I thought was a vulgar familiarity and
+a coarse dislike. But how different they are beneath the surface!"
+
+"They have warm, loyal hearts, Basil," said the vicar. "It is a pity
+that such uncouth manners and exteriors should go with them. Surface
+graces may not mean much, but there is no doubt they have a tremendous
+influence over the human mind. During your illness the whole parish
+thought of little else, I really believe. And to-night you will have
+very practical evidence of their friendship. You know, of course, that
+there is going to be a presentation?"
+
+"Yes. I couldn't help knowing that much, though I wish they wouldn't."
+
+"It is very good of them. Now I shall call for grace."
+
+The vicar made his way on to the platform and loudly clapped his hands.
+The tumult died suddenly away into silence, punctuated here and there by
+a belated rattle of a teacup and the spasmodic choking of some one
+endeavouring to bolt a large piece of cake in a hurry.
+
+"We will now sing grace," Mr. Byars said in a clear and audible
+voice,--"the _Old Hundred_, following our usual custom."
+
+As he spoke a little, bearded man in a frock-coat clambered up beside
+him. This was Mr. Cuthbert, the organist of the parish church. The
+little man pulled a tuning-fork from his pocket and struck it on the
+back of a chair.
+
+Then he held it to his ear for a moment. The people had all risen, and
+the room was now quite silent.
+
+"La!" sang the little organist, giving the note in a long, melodious
+call.
+
+He raised his hand, gave a couple of beats in the air, and the famous
+old hymn burst out royally. The great volume of sound seemed too fierce
+and urgent even for that spacious room. It pressed against the ear-drums
+almost with pain, though sung with the perfect time and tune which are
+the heritage of the sweet-voiced North-country folk:--
+
+    "_All people that on earth do dwell,
+      Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice!_"
+
+How hearty it was! How strong and confident!
+
+As Basil Gortre listened his heart expanded in love and fellowship
+towards these brother Christians. The dark phantoms which had rioted in
+his sick brain during the long weeks of his illness lay dead and
+harmless now. The monstrous visions of a conventional and formal
+Christianity, covering a world of secret and gibing atheism, seemed
+incredibly far removed from the glorious truth, as these strong, homely
+people sang a full-voiced _ave_ to the great brooding Trinity of Power
+and Love unseen, but all around them.
+
+Who was he to be refined and too dainty for his uses? There seemed
+nothing incongruous in the picture before his eyes. The litter of broken
+ham, the sloppy cups, the black-coated men with brilliant sky-blue satin
+ties, the women with thick gnarled hands and clothes the colour of a
+copper kettle, what were they now but his very own brethren, united in
+this burst of praise?
+
+And he joined in the doxology with all his heart and voice, his clear
+tenor soaring joyously above the rest:
+
+    "_To FATHER, SON, and HOLY GHOST,
+      The GOD Whom Heaven and earth adore,
+    From men and from the Angel-host
+      Be praise and glory evermore. Amen._"
+
+It ceased with suddenness. There was the satisfied silence of a second,
+and then the attendant helpers, assisted by the feasters, fell swiftly
+upon the tables. Cloths and crockery vanished like snow melting in
+sunlight, and as each table was laid bare it was turned up by a patent
+arrangement, and became a long bench with a back, which was added to the
+rows of seats facing the platform. As each iron-supported seat was
+pushed noisily into its place it was filled up at once with a laughing
+crowd, replete but active, smacking anticipatory chops over the
+entertainment and speech-making to come.
+
+Mr. Cuthbert, a painstaking pianist, whose repertoire was noisily
+commonplace, opened the concert with a solo.
+
+Songs and recitations followed. All were well received by an audience
+which was determined to enjoy itself, but it was obvious that the real
+event of the gathering was eagerly awaited.
+
+At last the eventful moment arrived. A table covered with green baize
+and bearing some objects concealed by a cloth was carried on the
+platform, and a row of chairs placed on either side of it.
+
+The vicar, Basil, a strange clergyman, and a little group of
+black-coated churchwardens and sidesmen filed upon the platform amid
+tumultuous cheering and clapping of hands.
+
+Mr. Pryde, the solicitor, rose first, and pronounced a somewhat pompous
+but sincere eulogy upon Basil's work and life at Walktown, which was
+heard in an absolute and appreciative silence, only broken by the
+scratching pencil of the reporter from a local paper.
+
+Then he called upon the vicar to make the presentation.
+
+Basil advanced to the table.
+
+"My dear friends and fellow-workers," said Mr. Byars, "I am not going to
+add much to what Mr. Pryde has said. As most of you know, Mr. Gortre
+stands and is about to stand to me in even a nearer and more intimate
+relation than that of assistant priest to his parish priest. But before
+giving Mr. Gortre the beautiful presents which your unbounded generosity
+has provided, and in order that you may have as little speech-making
+from me as possible, I want to take this opportunity of introducing the
+Reverend Henry Nuttall to you to-night."
+
+He bowed towards the stranger clergyman, a pleasant, burly, clean-shaven
+man.
+
+"I am going from among you for a couple of months, as I believe you have
+been told, and Mr. Nuttall is to take my place as your temporary pastor
+for that time. My doctor has ordered me rest for a time. So my daughter
+and myself, together with Mr. Gortre, who sadly needs change after his
+illness, and who is not to take up his duties in London for several
+weeks, are going away together for a holiday. And now I will simply ask
+Mr. Gortre to accept this tea-service and watch in the name of the
+congregation of St. Thomas as a token of their esteem and good-will."
+
+He pulled the cloth away and displayed some glittering silver vessels.
+Then he handed the agitated young man a gold watch in a leather case.
+
+Basil faced the shouting, enthusiastic crowd, staring through dimmed
+eyes at the long rows of animated faces.
+
+When there was a little silence he began to speak in a voice of great
+emotion.
+
+Very simply and earnestly he thanked them for their good-will and
+kindness.
+
+"This may be," he said, "the last time I shall ever have the privilege
+and pleasure of speaking to you. I want to give you one last message. I
+want to urge one and all here to-night to do one thing. Keep your faith
+unspotted, unstained by doubts, uninfluenced by fears. Do that and all
+will be well with you here and hereafter." His voice sank a full tone
+and he spoke with marked emphasis. "I have sometimes thought and felt of
+late that possibly the time may be at hand, we who are here to-night may
+witness a time, when the Powers and Principalities of evil will make a
+great and determined onslaught upon the Christian Faith. I may not read
+the signs of the times aright, my premonitions--for they have sometimes
+amounted even to that--may be unfounded or imaginary. But if such a time
+shall come, if the 'horror of great darkness,' a spiritual horror, that
+we read of in Genesis, descend upon the world and envelop it in its
+gloom and terror, oh! let us have faith. Keep the light burning
+steadily. 'Let nothing disturb thee; let nothing affright thee. All
+passeth: God only remaineth.' And now, dear brothers and sisters in the
+Holy Faith, thank you, God bless you, and farewell."
+
+There was a tense silence as his voice dropped to a close.
+
+Here and there a woman sobbed.
+
+There was something peculiar about his warning. He spoke almost in
+prophecy, as if he _knew_ of some terror coming, and saw its advance
+from afar. His face, pale and thin from fever, his bright, earnest eyes,
+not the glittering eyes of a fanatic, but the saner, wiser ones of the
+earnest single-minded man, had an immense influence with them there.
+
+And that night, as they trudged home to mean dwellings, or suburban
+villas, or rolled away in carriages, each person heard the intense,
+quiet voice warning them of the future, exhorting them to be steadfast
+in the Faith.
+
+Seed which bore most fragrant blossom in the time which, though they
+knew it not, was close at hand was sown that night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A DINNER AT THE PANNIER D'OR
+
+
+Helena stood with her hand raised to her eyes, close by the port
+paddle-box, staring straight in front of her at a faint grey line upon
+the horizon.
+
+A stiff breeze was blowing in the Channel, though the sun was shining
+brightly on the tossing waters, all yellow-green with pearl lights, like
+a picture by Henry Moore.
+
+By the tall, graceful figure of the girl, swaying with the motion of the
+steamer and bending gracefully to the sudden onslaughts of the wind,
+stood a thick-set man of middle height, dressed in a tweed suit. His
+face was a strong one. Heavy reddish eyebrows hung over a pair of clear
+grey eyes, intellectual and kindly. The nose was beak-like and the
+large, rugged, red moustache hid the mouth.
+
+This was Harold Spence, the journalist with whom Gortre was to live
+after the holiday was over and he began his work in Bloomsbury. Spence
+was snatching a few days from his work in Fleet Street, in order to
+accompany Gortre and Mr. and Miss Byars to Dieppe. It had been his first
+introduction to the vicar and his daughter.
+
+"So that is really France, Mr. Spence!" said Helena; "the very first
+view of a foreign country I've ever had. I don't suppose you've an idea
+of what I'm feeling now? It seems so wonderful, something I've been
+waiting for all my life."
+
+Spence smiled kindly, irradiating his face with good humour as he did
+so.
+
+"Well, _my_ sensations or emotions at present, Miss Byars, are entirely
+confined to wondering whether I am going to be seasick or not."
+
+"Don't speak of it!" said a thin voice, a voice from which all the blood
+seemed to be drained, and, turning, they saw the vicar at their elbow.
+
+His face was livid, his beard hung in lank dejection, a sincere misery
+poured from his pathetic eyes.
+
+"Basil," he said, "Basil is down in the saloon eating greasy cold
+chicken and ham and drinking pale ale! I told him it was an outrage--"
+His feelings overcame him and he staggered away towards the stern.
+
+"Poor father," said the girl. "He never could stand the sea, you know.
+But he very soon gets all right when he is on dry land again. Oh, look!
+that must be a church tower! I can see it quite distinctly, and the sun
+on the roofs of the houses!"
+
+"That is St. Jacques," said Spence, "and that dome some way to the
+right, is St. Remy. Farthest of all to the right, on the cliffs, you can
+just see the chateau where the garrison is."
+
+Helena gazed eagerly and became silent in her excitement. Basil, who
+came up from the saloon and joined them, the healthy colour beginning to
+glow out on his cheeks once more, watched her tenderly. There was
+something childishly sweet in her delight as the broad, tub-like boat
+kicked its way rapidly towards the quaint old foreign town.
+
+In smoky Walktown he had not often seen her thus. Life was a more sober
+thing there, and her nature was graver than that of many girls, attuned
+to her environment. But, at the beginning of this holiday time, under a
+brilliant spring sun, which she was already beginning to imagine had a
+foreign charm about it, she too was happy and in a holiday mood.
+
+Basil pulled out his new and glorious gold watch, which had replaced the
+battered old gun-metal one he usually wore. Though not a poor man, he
+was simple in all his tastes, and the new toy gave him a recurring and
+childish pleasure whenever he looked at it.
+
+"We ought to be in in about twenty minutes," he said. "Have you noticed
+that the tossing of the ship has almost stopped? The land protects us.
+How clear the town is growing! I wonder if you will remember any of your
+French, Helena? I almost wish I was like you, seeing a foreign country
+for the first time. Spence is the real _voyageur_ though. He's been all
+over the world for his paper."
+
+The vicar came up to them again, just as there was a general movement of
+the passengers towards the deck. A hooting cry from the steam whistle
+wailed over the water and the boat began to move slowly.
+
+In a few more minutes they had passed the breakwater and were gliding
+slowly past the wharves towards the landing-stage.
+
+Suddenly Helena clutched hold of Basil's arm.
+
+"O Basil," she whispered, "how beautiful--look! Guarding the harbour!"
+
+He turned and followed the direction of her glance.
+
+An enormous crucifix, more than life size, planted in the ground, rose
+from the low cliffs on the right for all entering the harbour to see.
+
+They watched the symbol in silence as the passengers chattered on every
+side and gathered up their rugs and hand-bags.
+
+Gortre slipped his arm through Helena's.
+
+The reminder was so vivid and sudden it affected them powerfully. They
+were both people of the world, living in it and enjoying the pleasures
+of life that came in their way. Gortre was not one of those narrow, and
+even ill-bred, young priests with a text for ever on his lips, a sort of
+inopportune concordance, with an unpleasant flavour of omniscience. His
+religion and Helena's was too deep and fibrous a thing for commonplaces
+about it. It did not continually effervesce within and break forth in
+minute and constant bubbles, losing all its sincerity and beauty by the
+vulgar wear and tear of a verbal trick.
+
+But it was always and for ever with him a transmuting force which
+changed his life each hour in a way of which the nominal believer has no
+conception.
+
+A letter he had once written to Helena during a holiday compressed all
+his belief, and his joy in his belief, into a few short lines. Thus had
+run the sincere and simple statement, unadorned by any effort of
+literary grace to give it point and force:--
+
+     "Day by day as your letters come I go on saying my prayers for you,
+     and with you, in fresh faith and confidence. You know that I
+     absolutely trust the Lord Jesus Christ, who is, I believe, the God
+     who made the worlds, and that I pray to Him continually, relying on
+     His promises.
+
+     "I keep on reading all sides of the question, as your father does
+     also, and while admitting all that honest criticism and sincere
+     intellectual doubt can teach me, and freely conceding that there is
+     no infallible record in the New Testament, I grow more and more
+     convinced that the Gospels and Paul's letters relate _facts_ and
+     not imaginations or hallucinations. And the more strongly my
+     intellect is convinced, so much more does my heart delight in the
+     love of God, who has given Himself for me. How magnificent is that
+     finale of St. John's Gospel! 'Thomas saith unto Him, My Lord and my
+     God.' And, then, how exquisite is the supplement about the
+     manifestation at the lake side! Imagine the skill of the literary
+     man who INVENTED that! Fancy such a man existing in A.D. 150 or
+     thereabouts! I see Mrs. Humphry Ward says 'it was a dream which the
+     old man at Ephesus related, and his disciples thought it was fact.'
+     And _she_ is a literary person!"
+
+So, as the lovers glided slowly past the high symbol of God's pain, the
+worship in their hearts found but little utterance on their lips, though
+they were deeply touched.
+
+It seemed a good omen to welcome them to France!
+
+Spence remained to look after the luggage and to see it through the
+Customs, and the three others resolved to walk to the rooms which they
+had taken in the Faubourg de la Barre on the steep hill behind the
+chateau.
+
+They passed over the railway line in the middle of the road, and past
+the _cafes_ which cluster round the landing-stage, into the quaint
+market-place, with the great Gothic Cathedral Church of St. Jacques upon
+one side, and the colossal statue of Duquesne surrounded by baskets of
+spring flowers in the centre.
+
+To Helena Byars that simple progress was one of unalloyed excitement and
+delight. The small and wiry soldiers in their unfamiliar uniforms; an
+officer sipping vermouth in a _cafe_, with spurs, sword, and helmet
+shining in the sun; two black priests, with huge furry hats--all the
+moving colour of the scene gave her new and delightful sensations.
+
+"It's all so different!" she said breathlessly. "So bright and gay. What
+is that red thing over the tobacco shop, and that little brass dish over
+the hair-dresser's? Think of Walktown or Salford, now!"
+
+The house in the Faubourg de la Barre was kept by a Madame Varnier, who
+spoke English well, and was in the habit of letting her rooms to
+English people. A late _dejeuner_ was ready for them.
+
+The omelette was a revelation to Helena, and the _rognons sautes_ filled
+her with respect for such cooking, but she was impatient, nevertheless,
+to be out and sight-seeing.
+
+The vicar was tired, and proposed to stay indoors with the _Spectator_,
+and Spence had some letters to write, so Basil and Helena went out
+alone.
+
+"The vicar and I will meet you at six," Spence said, "at the Cafe des
+Tribuneaux, that big place with the gabled roof in the centre of the
+town. At six the _l'heure verre_ begins, the time when everyone goes out
+for an _aperitif_, the appetiser before dinner; afterwards I'll take you
+to dine at the Pannier d'Or, a jolly little restaurant I know of, and in
+the evening we'll go to the Casino."
+
+Madame Varnier, the _patronne_, was in her kitchen sitting-room at the
+bottom of the stairs, and they looked in through the hatchway as they
+passed to tell her that they were not dining indoors.
+
+On the floor a little girl, with pale yellow hair, an engaging button of
+three, was playing with a live rabbit, plump and mouse-coloured.
+
+"How sweet!" said Helena, who was in a mood which made her ready to
+appreciate everything. "Look at the little darling with its pet. Has
+baby had the rabbit long, Madame Varnier?"
+
+The Frenchwoman smiled lavishly. "Est-elle gentille l'enfant! hein! I
+bring the lapin chez moi from the magazin yesterday. There was very good
+lapins yesterday. I buy when I can. Je trouverai ca plus prudent. He is
+for the dejeuner of mademoiselle to-morrow. I take him so,"--she caught
+up the animal and suited the action to the word,--"I press his throat
+till his mouth open, and I pour a little cognac into him. Il se meurt,
+and the flesh have a delicious flavour from the cognac!"
+
+"How perfectly horrible!" said Helena as they came out into the street
+and walked down the hill. "Fancy seeing one's lunch alive and playing
+about like that, and then killing it with brandy, too! What pigs these
+French people are!"
+
+Soon after the cool gloom of St. Remy enveloped them. Under the big dome
+they lingered for a time, walking from chapel to chapel, where nuns were
+praying. But it dulled them rather, and they had more pleasure in the
+grey and Gothic twilight of St. Jacques. Here the eye was uplifted by
+more noble lines, there was a more mediaeval and romantic feeling about
+the place.
+
+"We will come here to Mass on Sunday," said Basil. "I shall not go to
+the English Church at all. I never do abroad, and the vicar agrees with
+me. You see one belongs to the Catholic Church in England. In France one
+belongs to it, too. The 'Protestant' Church, as they call it, with an
+English clergyman, is, of course, a Dissenting church here."
+
+"I see your point," said Helena, "though I don't know that I quite agree
+with it. But I have never been to a Roman Catholic church in England,
+and I want to see some of the services. 'Bowing down in the House of
+Rimmon,' Mr. Philemon would call it at Walktown."
+
+They turned down a narrow street of quiet houses, and came out on to the
+Plage. There were a good many people walking up and down the great
+promenade from the Casino to the harbour mouth. An air of fulness and
+prosperity floated round the magnificent hotels which faced the sea.
+
+It was a spring season, owing to the unusual mildness of the weather,
+and Dieppe was full of people. The Casino was opened temporarily after
+the long sleep of the winter, and a company was performing there,
+having come on from the theatre at Rouen.
+
+"What a curious change from the churches and market-place," said Helena.
+"This is tremendously smart and fashionable. How well-dressed every one
+is. Look at that red-haired woman with the furs. This is being quite in
+the world again."
+
+They began a steady walk towards the pier and lighthouse. The wind was
+fresh, though not troublesome, and at five o'clock the sun, low in the
+sky, was still bright, and could give his animation to the picture.
+
+The two young people amused themselves by speculations about the varied
+types of people who passed and repassed them. Gortre wore a suit of very
+dark grey, with a short coat and an ordinary tweed cap--his holiday
+suit, he called it--and, except for his clerical collar, there was
+little to show his calling. He was pleased, with a humorous sense of
+proprietorship, a kind of vicarious vanity, to notice the attention and
+admiration excited by the beautiful English girl at his side.
+
+Helena Byars held her own among the cosmopolitan crowd of women who
+walked on the Plage. Her beauty was Saxon, very English, and not of a
+type that is always appreciated to its full value on the Continent, but
+it shone the more from Latin contrasts, and could not escape remark.
+
+Every now and again they turned, at distances of a quarter of a mile or
+so, and during the recurrence of their beat they began to notice a
+person whom they met several times, coming and going.
+
+He was an enormously big man, broad and tall, dressed expensively and
+with care. His size alone was sufficient to mark him out of the usual,
+but his personality seemed to them no less arresting and strange.
+
+His large, smooth face was fat, the eyes small and brilliant, with
+heavy pouches under them. His whole manner was a trifle florid and
+Georgian. Basil said that he seemed to belong to the Prince Regent's
+period in some subtle way. "I can imagine him on the lawns at Brighton
+or dining in the Pavilion," he said. "What a sensual, evil face the man
+has! Of course it may mean nothing, though. The Bishop of ----, one of
+the saints of the time, whose work on the Gospels is the most wonderful
+thing ever done in the way of Christian apologetics, has a face like one
+of the grotesque devils carved on the roof of Notre Dame or Lincoln
+Cathedral. But this man seems by his face to have no soul. One can't
+feel it is there, as one does, thank God! with most people."
+
+"But what an intellect such a man must have! Look at him now. Look at
+the shape of his head. And besides, you can see it in his face, despite
+its sensuality and materialism. He must be some distinguished person. I
+seem to remember pictures of him, just lately, too, in the illustrated
+papers, only I can't get a name to them. I'm certain he's English, and
+some one of importance."
+
+The big man passed them again with a quiet and swift glance of
+appreciation for Helena. He seemed lonely. Basil and Helena realised
+that he would have welcomed a chance word of greeting, some overture of
+friendship, which is not so impossible between English people
+abroad--even in adjacent Dieppe--as in our own country.
+
+But neither of them responded to the unspoken wish they felt in the
+stranger. They were quite happy with each other, and presently they saw
+him light a cigar and turn into one of the great hotels.
+
+They discussed the man for a few minutes--he had made an odd impression
+on them by his personality--and then found that it was time for the
+rendezvous at the Cafe des Tribuneaux.
+
+By this time dusk was falling, and the sea moaned with a certain
+melancholy. But the town began to be brilliant with electric lights, and
+the florid Moorish building of the Casino was jewelled everywhere.
+
+They turned away to the left, leaving the sea behind them, and, passing
+through a narrow street by the Government tobacco factory, came into the
+town again, and, after a short walk, to the _cafe_.
+
+The place was bright and animated--lights, mirrors, and gilding, the
+stir and movement of the pavement, combined to make a novel and
+attractive picture for the English girl. The night was not cold, and
+they sat under the awning at a little round table watching the merry
+groups with interest. In a few minutes after their arrival they saw
+Spence and the vicar, now quite restored and well, coming towards them.
+They had forborne to order anything before the arrival of their
+companions.
+
+The journalist took them under his wing at once. It amused him to be a
+cicerone to help them to a feeling of being at home. Gortre and Mr.
+Byars had been in Switzerland, and the latter at Rome on one occasion,
+but under the wing of a bishop's son who made his livelihood out of
+personally conducting parties to Continental towns of interest for a
+fixed fee. There was little freedom in these cut-and-dried tours, with
+their lectures _en route_ and the very dinners in the hotel ordered for
+the tourists, and everything so arranged that they need not speak a word
+of any foreign language.
+
+For the vicar, Spence prescribed a _vermouth sec_; Gortre, a courtesy
+invalid, was given a minute glass of an amber-coloured liquid with
+quinine in it--"_Dubonnet_" Spence called it; and Helena had a _sirop_
+of _menthe_.
+
+They were all very happy together in the simple-minded, almost childish,
+way of quiet, intellectual people. Their enjoyment of the novel
+liqueurs, in a small _cafe_ at tourist-haunted Dieppe, was as great as
+that of any sybarite at the Hotel Ritz in Paris, or at a rare dinner at
+Ciro's in Monte Carlo.
+
+Spence ordered an absinthe for himself.
+
+The vicar seemed slightly perturbed. "Isn't that stuff rather dangerous,
+Spence?" he said, shrinking a little from the glass when the waiter
+brought it. "I've heard terrible things of it."
+
+"Oh, I know," said the journalist, laughing, "people call it the French
+national vice and write tirades against it. Of course if it becomes a
+regular habit it is dangerous, and excess in absinthe is worse than most
+things. But one glass taken now and again is a wonderful stomachic and
+positively beneficial. I take one, perhaps, five times in a year and
+like it. But, like all good things, it is terribly abused both by the
+people who use it and those who don't."
+
+Suddenly Helena turned to Gortre.
+
+"Oh, look, Basil!" she said. "There is our friend of the Plage--Quinbus
+Flestrin, the mountain of flesh, you remember your Swift?"
+
+The big stranger, now in evening dress and a heavy fur coat, had just
+come into the _cafe_ and was sitting there with a cigarette and a Paris
+paper. He seemed lost in some sort of anxious speculation--at least so
+it seemed by the drooping of the journal in his massive fingers and the
+set expression of abstraction which lingered in his eyes and spread a
+veil over his countenance.
+
+They had all turned at Helena's exclamation and looked towards the other
+side of the _cafe_, where the man was sitting.
+
+"Why, that's Sir Robert Llwellyn," said Spence.
+
+The vicar looked up eagerly. "The great authority on the antiquities of
+the Holy Land?" he said.
+
+"Yes, that's the man. They knighted him the other day. He's supposed to
+be the greatest living authority, you know."
+
+"Do you know him, then?" asked the vicar.
+
+"Oh, yes," said Spence, carelessly. "One knows every one in my trade. I
+have to. I've often gone to him for information when anything very
+special has been discovered. And I've met him in clubs and at lectures
+or at first nights at the theatre. He is a great play-goer."
+
+"A decent sort of man?" said Gortre in a tone which certainly implied a
+doubt.
+
+Spence hesitated a moment. "Oh, well, I suppose so," he said carelessly.
+"There are tales about his private life, but probably quite untrue. He's
+a man of the world as well as a great scholar, and I suppose the rather
+unusual combination makes people talk. But he is right up at the top of
+the tree,--goes everywhere; and he's just been knighted for his work.
+I'll go over and speak to him."
+
+"If he'll come over," said the vicar, his eyes alight with anticipation
+and the hope of a talk with this famous expert on the subjects nearest
+his own heart, "bring him, _please_. There is nothing I should like
+better than a chat with him. I know his _Modern Discoveries and Holy
+Writ_ almost by heart."
+
+They watched Spence go across to Sir Robert's table. The big man started
+as he was spoken to, looked up in surprise, then smiled with pleasure,
+and extended a welcoming hand. Spence sat down beside him and they were
+soon in the middle of a brisk conversation.
+
+"The poor man looked very bored until Mr. Spence spoke to him," said
+Helena. "Father, I'm sure you'll have your wish. He seems glad to have
+some one to talk to."
+
+She was right. After a minute or two the journalist returned with
+Llwellyn, and the five of them were soon in a full flood of talk.
+
+"I was going to dine alone at my hotel," said the Professor, at length;
+"but Spence says that he knows of a decent restaurant here. I wonder if
+you would let me be one of your party? I'm quite alone in Dieppe for a
+couple of days. I'm waiting for a friend with whom I am going to
+travel."
+
+"Oh, do come, Sir Robert," said the vicar, with manifest pleasure. "Are
+you going to be away from England for long?"
+
+"I have leave from the British Museum for a year," said the Professor.
+"My doctor says that I require absolute rest. I am _en route_ for
+Marseilles and from there to Alexandria."
+
+The Pannier d'Or proved a pleasant little place, and the dinner was
+excellent. The Professor surprised and then amused the others by his
+criticism of the viands. He made the dinner his especial business, sent
+for the cook and had a serious conversation with him, chose the wines
+with extreme care.
+
+His knowledge of the culinary art was enormous, and he treated it with a
+kind of reverence, addressing himself more particularly to Helena.
+
+"Yes, Miss Byars, you must be _most_ careful in the preparation of
+really good crayfish soup. This is excellent. The great secret is to
+flavour with a little lobster spawn and to mix the crumb of a French
+roll with the stock--white stock of course--before you add the powdered
+shells and anchovies."
+
+Many times, despite his impatience to get to deeper and more congenial
+subjects, the vicar smiled at the purring of this gourmet, who seemed to
+prefer a sauce to an inscription and rissoles to research.
+
+But with the special coffee--covered with fine yellow foam and
+sweetened with crystals of amber sugar--the vicar's hour came. Sir
+Robert realised that it was inevitable and with a half sigh gave the
+required opening.
+
+Once started, his manner changed utterly. The mask of materialism peeled
+away from his face, which became younger, brighter, as thought animated
+it, and new, finer lines cames out upon it as knowledge poured from him.
+
+The conversation threatened to be a long one. Spence saw that and
+proposed to go on to the Casino with Helena, leaving the two clergymen
+with Llwellyn. It was when they had gone that the trio settled down
+completely.
+
+It resolved itself at first into a duologue between the two elder men.
+Gortre's knowledge was too general and superficial on these purely
+antiquarian matters to allow him to take much part in it. He sat sipping
+his coffee and listening with keen attention and great enjoyment to this
+talk of experts. He had not liked Llwellyn from the first and could not
+do so even now, but he was forced to recognise the enormous intellectual
+activity and power of the big, purring creature before him.
+
+Step by step the two archaeologists went over the new discoveries being
+made in the ground between the City Wall of Jerusalem and the Hill of
+"Jeremiah's Grotto." They talked of the blue and purple mosaics found on
+the Mount of Olives, of all that had been done by the English and German
+excavators during the past years.
+
+Gradually the discussion became more intimate and began to touch on
+great issues.
+
+Mr. Byars was in a state of extraordinary interest. His knowledge was
+wide, and Llwellyn early realised this, speaking to him as an equal,
+but beside the Professor's all-embracing achievements it was as nothing.
+The clergyman learnt something fresh, some sudden illuminating point of
+view, some irradiating fact, at every moment.
+
+"I suppose," Mr. Byars said at length, "that the true situation of the
+Holy Sepulchre is still a matter of considerable doubt, Professor. Your
+view would interest me extremely."
+
+"My view," said Llwellyn, with remarkable earnestness and with an
+emphasis which left no doubt about his convictions, "is that the
+Sepulchre has not yet been located."
+
+"And your view is authoritative of course," said Mr. Byars.
+
+The Professor bowed.
+
+"That is as it may be," he said, "but I have no doubt upon the subject.
+The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is quite out of the question. There is
+really no historical evidence for it beyond a foolish dream of the
+Empress Helena, in A.D. 326. The people who _know_ dismiss the
+traditional site at once. Of course it is _generally_ believed, but one
+cannot expect the world at large to be cognisant of the doings of the
+authorities. Canon MacColl has said that the traditional site is the
+real one, and as his name has never been out of the public eye since
+what were called 'The Bulgarian Atrocities,' they are content to follow
+his lead. Then there is the question of the second site, in which a
+great many people believe they have found the true Golgotha and
+Sepulchre. 'The Gordon Tomb,' as it has been called, excited a great
+deal of attention at the time of its discovery. You may remember that I
+went to Jerusalem on behalf of the _Times_ to investigate the matter.
+You may recollect that I proved beyond dispute that the tomb was not
+Jewish at all, but indubitably Christian and long subsequent to the time
+of Christ. As a matter of fact, when the tomb was excavated in 1873 it
+was full of human bones and the mould of decomposed bodies, and there
+were two red-painted crosses on the walls. The tomb was close to a large
+Crusading hospice, and I have no doubt that it was used for the burial
+of pilgrims. Besides, my excavations proved that the second "city wall"
+must have _included_ the new site, so that the Gospel narrative at once
+demolishes the new theory. I embodied twenty-seven other minor proofs in
+my letters to the _Times_ also. No, Mr. Byars, my conviction is that we
+are not yet able to locate in any way the position of Golgotha and the
+Holy Tomb."
+
+"You think that is to come?" asked Gortre.
+
+"_I feel certain_," answered the Professor, with great deliberation and
+meaning--"_I feel certain that we are on the eve of stupendous
+discoveries in this direction_."
+
+His tones were so impressive and so charged with import that the two
+clergymen looked quickly at each other. It seemed obvious that Llwellyn
+was aware of some impending discoveries. He must, they knew, be in
+constant touch with all that was being done in Palestine. Curiously
+enough, his words gave each of them a certain sense of chill, of
+uneasiness. There seemed to be something behind them, something of
+sinister suggestion, which they could not divine or formulate, but
+merely felt as an action upon the nerves.
+
+It was a rare experience to sit with the greatest living authority upon
+a subject, and hear his views--views which it would be folly not to
+accept. His knowledge was so sure and so profound, a sense of power
+flowed from him.
+
+But though both men felt a dim premonition of what his words might
+possibly convey, neither could bring himself to a deliberate question.
+Nor did Llwellyn appear to invite it. During the whole of their talk he
+had sedulously avoided any religious questions. He had dealt solely with
+historical aspects.
+
+His position in the religious world was singular. His knowledge of
+Biblical history was one of its assets, but he was not known definitely
+as a believer.
+
+His attitude had always been absolutely non-committal. He did the work
+he had to do without taking sides.
+
+It had become generally understood that no definite statement of his own
+personal convictions was to be asked or expected from him.
+
+The general consensus of opinion was that Sir Robert Llwellyn was _not_
+a believer in the divinity of Christ; but it was merely an opinion, and
+had never been confirmed by him.
+
+There was rather a tense silence for a short time.
+
+The Professor broke it.
+
+"Let me show you," he said, taking a gold pencil-case from his pocket,
+"a little map which I published at the time of the agitation about
+Gordon's Tomb. I can trace the course of the city walls for you."
+
+He felt in his pocket for some paper on which to make the drawing, and
+took out a letter.
+
+Gortre and the vicar drew their chairs closer.
+
+Suddenly a curious pain shot through Basil's head and all his pulses
+throbbed violently. He experienced a terribly familiar sensation--the
+sick fear and repulsion of the night before his illness in the great
+library. The aroma of some utterly evil and abominable personality
+seemed to come into his brain.
+
+For, as he had looked down at the paper on which the great white fingers
+were now tracing thin lines, he had seen, before Llwellyn turned it
+over, a firm, plain signature, thus:
+
+          Constantine Schuabe
+
+With some excuse about the heat of the room, he left it and went out
+into the night.
+
+His brain was busy with terrible intuitive forebodings, he seemed to be
+caught up in the fringe of some great net, the phantoms of his illness
+came round him once more, the dark air was thick with their
+wings--vague, and because of that more hideous.
+
+He passed the lighted _kiosk_ at the Casino entrance with a white, set
+face.
+
+He was going home to pray.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+INAUGURATION
+
+
+It was at Victoria Station that Basil said good-bye to Helena. Spence
+had been back again in London for a fortnight. Mr. Byars and his
+daughter were to go straight back to Manchester the same day, and Gortre
+was to take possession of his new quarters in Lincoln's Inn and enter on
+his duties at St. Mary's without delay.
+
+It had been a pleasant holiday, they all agreed, as the train brought
+them up from Newhaven; how pleasant they had hardly realised till it was
+all over. They had been all brought more intimately together than ever
+before. Gortre had come to know Mr. Byars with far more completeness
+than had been possible during their busy parochial life at Walktown. The
+elder man's calm and steadfast belief, his wide knowledge and culture,
+the Christian _sanity_ of his life, were never more manifest than in the
+uninterrupted communion of this time of rest and pleasure.
+
+He saw in his future father-in-law such a man as he himself humbly hoped
+that he might become. The impulsiveness of an eager youth had toned down
+into the mature judgment of middle age. The enthusiasms of life's
+springtime had solidified into quiet strength and force, and faith and
+intellect had combined into a deep and immovable conviction. And Mr.
+Byars's was no simple, childlike nature to whom goodness and belief were
+easy, a natural attribute of the man. He was subtle rather, complex,
+and the victory over himself had cost him more than it costs most men.
+So much Gortre realised, and his love and admiration for the vicar were
+tempered with that joyous awe that one fine nature is privileged to feel
+at the contact with another.
+
+To Helena also this time of holiday had been very precious. To mark the
+fervour of her chosen one, the energy he threw into Life, Love, and
+Religion, to find him a _man_ and yet a priest, to follow him in thought
+to the ivory gates of his Ideals--these were her uplifting occupations;
+and to all these as they walked and talked, listened to the music at the
+Casino, explored the ancient forest and castle at Arques, or knelt with
+bowed heads as the sacring bell rang and the priests moved about the
+altar--these had been the united bond of the great knowledge and hope
+they shared together.
+
+After the farewells had been said in the noisy station, and Basil's cab
+drove him rapidly towards his new home, he felt wonderfully ready and
+prepared for his new work.
+
+The moving panorama of Victoria Street, the sudden stately vision of
+Palace Yard, the grandeur of the Embankment--all spoke to the young man
+of a vivid, many-coloured, and pulsating life which was waiting for him
+and his activities. Here, indeed, was a fine battlefield and theatre for
+the Holy War.
+
+The cab moved slowly up Chancery Lane and then turned into the sudden
+quiet of Lincoln's Inn. It was almost like going back to Oxford, he
+thought, with a quick glow of pleasure to see himself surrounded by
+mellow, ancient buildings once more.
+
+All his heavy personal effects had been sent up from Walktown some days
+before, and when he had carried up his two portmanteaus he knocked at
+the "oak" or outside door of the chambers, which was shut, and waited
+for a response. He saw that his name was freshly painted on the lintel
+of the door under the two others:
+
+          +---------------------------------------+
+          |                                       |
+          |         MR. HAROLD M. SPENCE.         |
+          |                                       |
+          |           MR. CYRIL HANDS.            |
+          |                                       |
+          |          REV. BASIL GORTRE.           |
+          |                                       |
+          +---------------------------------------+
+
+
+In a minute he heard footsteps. The inner door was opened and he saw a
+tall, thin man, bearded and brown, peering at him through spectacles.
+
+"Ah! Gortre, I suppose," said the other. "We were expecting you. I'm
+Hands, you know, home for another month yet. Give me these bags. Come
+in, come in."
+
+He followed the big, stooping fellow with a sense of well-being at the
+cheery bohemianism of his greeting.
+
+He found himself in a very large room indeed, panelled from floor to
+ceiling, the woodwork painted a sage green. Three great windows, each
+with a cushioned seat in its recess, looked down into the quadrangle
+below. Curtained doors faced him on all sides of the room, which was
+oddly shaped and full of nooks and angles. Books and newspapers covered
+two or three writing-tables and were piled on shelves between the doors.
+A bright fire burned in a large grate and the mantel above was covered
+with Oxford photographs, pipes, and tobacco jars. There was a note of
+comfort everywhere, of luxurious comfort though not of luxury. The
+furniture was not new and it bore the signs of long use no less than
+careful choice. Bohemia it was, but not a squalid Bohemia. If a room can
+have a personality, this was a _gentlemanly_ room. One saw that
+gentlemen lived here, men who, without daintiness or a tinge of the
+sybarite, yet liked a certain order and fitness around them. At once
+Basil felt in key with the place. There was no jarring note anywhere.
+
+"I've got you a sort of meal, Gortre," said Hands, pleasantly, "though
+we were rather in doubt as to what a man could want at four o'clock in
+the afternoon! Spence suggested afternoon tea, as you'll be wanting to
+dine later on. But Mrs. Buscall, our laundress, suggested cold beef and
+Bass's beer--after a sea voyage which she regards as a sort of Columbus
+adventure. So fall to--here you are. Harold is just getting up."
+
+Indeed, as he spoke there came a noise of vigorous splashing from behind
+one of the closed doors and Spence's voice bellowed out a greeting.
+
+Basil looked puzzled for a moment and Hands laughed as he saw it.
+
+"You must remember that Spence doesn't get back from the office till
+three in the morning," he said. "He's writing four leaders a week now,
+and on his late nights, when he comes back, his brain is too alert and
+excited to sleep, so he has some Bovril and just works away at other
+stuff till morning. He won't interfere with us, though. I never hear him
+come in, nor will you. These chambers are a regular rabbit warren for
+size and ramification."
+
+Basil went into the bedroom he was to have, a spacious, clean, and
+simply furnished place, and when he came out again for his meal found
+Spence, in a loose suit of flannels, smoking a cigarette. The journalist
+joined him at the table.
+
+In a very short time Gortre felt thoroughly at home. He knew by a kind
+of instinct that he should be happy in Lincoln's Inn. Hands had still a
+month to spend in London before he went back to Palestine to continue
+his work for the Exploring Society, and he looked forward to many
+interesting talks with him, the actual agent and superintendent of the
+work at Jerusalem, the trained eye and arm of the great and influential
+English Society.
+
+And as for Spence, he had known him intimately ever since his first
+Oxford days, many years ago now. Harold Spence was like a brother to
+him--had always been that.
+
+The first hour's conversation, desultory as it was, in a sense, showed
+him how full and varied his new life promised to be. After the noisy
+seclusion of Walktown he felt that he was now in the centre of things.
+Both Spence and Hands were thoroughly cultured men, and both were
+distinguished above the crowd in their respective spheres.
+
+Basil heard keen, critical, "inside" talk for almost the first time. His
+two companions knew everybody, were at the hub of things. Two nights ago
+Spence had been talking to the Prime Minister for ten minutes.--_The
+Daily Wire_ was the unofficial Government organ. Hands had been at
+Lambeth with the Archbishop, the president and patron of the Palestine
+Society. They were absolute types of the keen, vigorous, and _young_
+mental aristocracy which is always on the active service of English
+life. They belonged to the executive branch.
+
+"I'm sorry, Basil," Spence said suddenly, "I've got a note for you from
+Father Ripon. I forgot to give it to you. He sent it down by a special
+messenger this morning. Here it is."
+
+Father Ripon was the vicar of St. Mary's, Gortre's new chief.
+
+He took the note and opened it, reading as follows:
+
+     "THE CLERGY HOUSE,
+     "ST MARY'S, BLOOMSBURY.
+
+     "DEAR MR. GORTRE,--Friend Spence says that you will arrive in
+     London this afternoon. I don't believe in wasting time and I want a
+     good long talk with you before you begin your work with us.
+     To-night I am due at Bethnal Green to give a lecture. I shall be
+     driving home about ten and I'll call at Lincoln's Inn on my way. If
+     this will not be too late for you, we can then talk matters
+     over.--Sincerely yours in Christ,    ARTHUR RIPON."
+
+Basil passed the note to Spence.
+
+"That'll be all right," he said. "I shall be at work, and Hands will be
+in his own room. What a man Ripon is! He's just the incarnation of
+breezy energy. Brusque, unconventional as Dr. Parker himself, but one of
+the sincerest Christians and best men I ever met or ever shall meet. He
+signs his note like that because he means it. He hates cant, and what in
+some men would appear cant, or at least a rather unnecessary form of
+ending, is to him just an ordinary every-day fact. You will get on with
+Father Ripon, Basil, I'm sure. You'll get to love the man as we all do.
+I never knew any one so absolutely joyous as he is. He's about the
+happiest man in town, I should say. His private income is nearly two
+thousand a year, and his living's worth something too, and yet I don't
+suppose his own expenses are fifty pounds. He lives more or less on
+porridge--when he remembers to eat at all--and his only extravagance is
+hansom cabs, so that he can cram more work into the day."
+
+They all laughed, and Spence began to tell anecdotes of the famous
+"ritualistic" parson who daily filled more stomachs, saved more souls,
+and shocked more narrow-minded people than any two men in Crockford.
+
+At seven o'clock they all went out together--Spence to his adjacent
+office in Fleet Street, the other two to dine quietly at the University
+Club.
+
+"London depresses me," said Hands, when they were seated on the top of
+an omnibus and rolling westward through the Strand. "I am afraid that I
+shall never be in love with London any more. I always dislike my
+vacations, or rather my business visits to town. It's necessary that I
+attend the annual meeting of the Society and see people in authority,
+and I have to give a few lectures too. But I hate it all the same. I
+love the simple life of the East, the sun, the deep blue shadows, my
+silent Arabs. I know of no more beautiful sight than the Holy City--why
+do they call Rome the 'Holy City'? Jerusalem is the Holy City--when the
+hills are covered with the January snows. It is a wonderful, immemorial
+land, Gortre, a silent, beautiful country. Just before I came over here
+I spent a fortnight working at some inscriptions in a very ancient Latin
+monastery. I never knew such peace. The monks are all sad-faced,
+courteous Syrians, and they move along the rock balconies like benignant
+ghosts. And then one comes back and is plunged into this!"
+
+He threw out his hand over the side of the omnibus with a note of
+disgust in his rather dreamy voice. The Strand was all brilliantly lit
+and waiting crowds stood by all the theatre doors. Men and women passed
+in and out of the bright orange light of bars and restaurants, and small
+filthy boys stabbed the deep roar of the traffic with their shrill
+voices as they called out the evening papers.
+
+They dined quietly and simply at the big warm club in Piccadilly. Hands
+did most of the talking and Gortre was content to listen to the pleasant
+monotony of the low, level voice and to fall under the man's peculiar
+spell or charm--a charm that he always exercised upon another artistic
+temperament.
+
+Hands was a poet by nature and sentiment. His strange, lonely life among
+the evidences of the past under the Eastern sky had toned, mellowed,
+and orientalised his vision.
+
+As he listened Gortre also began to feel something of the mystery and
+magic influence of that country of God's birth.
+
+It was half-past nine when they got back to the chambers again. Hands
+went at once to his own room to work and Basil sat down in front of a
+red, glowing fire, gazing into the hot caverns, lost in reverie. It was
+as though he had taken some opiate and there was nothing better in life
+than to sit thus and dream in the warm silence of the firelit room.
+
+A few minutes after ten he was suddenly called out of the clouds by a
+furious knocking at the door of the chambers.
+
+The sound cut into his dreams like a knife.
+
+He went to open the door, and Father Ripon, his new vicar, came in like
+a whirlwind. His voluminous black cloak brought cold air in its folds;
+his breezy, genial personality was so actual a fact, struck such a
+strident, material note, that dreams and reverie fled before it.
+
+Gortre turned up the gas-jets and flooded the room with light.
+
+Father Ripon was a tall, well-made man, too active to be portly, but
+with hints of a tendency towards plumpness, which was never allowed to
+ripen. His iron-grey hair was cropped close to his large, well-shaped
+head. The shrewd, merry eyes, of a rare red-hazel colour, were shaded by
+heavy grey brows, which gave them a singular directness and penetration.
+The nose was aquiline, the lips thin, though the mouth was large, and
+the chin massive and somewhat protruding. The mobile face, lined and
+seamed by the strenuous life of its owner, was very seldom in repose. It
+glowed and flashed continually with changing expression. On those
+occasions when the play of feature sank to rest for a moment, at the
+giving of a benediction or the saying of a solemn prayer in church, a
+nobility and asceticism transformed the face into something saintly. But
+in the ordinary business of life the large humanity of the man gave him
+a readier title to the hearts of his people than their knowledge of the
+underlying saintliness of his character.
+
+"Whisky?" he said, as Gortre asked him to take some. "No, thanks.
+Teetotaler for sake of example, always have been--and don't like the
+stuff either, never did. But I'll have some coffee and some bread and
+butter, if you've got it, and some of those oranges I see there. Forgot
+to lunch and had no time to dine!"
+
+He began ravenously upon the oranges and with little further preamble
+plunged at once into the business of the parish. To emphasise a point,
+he flung a piece of orange peel savagely into the fire now and again.
+
+"Our congregation," he said, "is peculiar to the church. You'll realise
+that when you get among them. I don't suppose in the whole of London
+there is a more difficult class of people to reach than our own. In the
+first place, it's a _young_ congregation, speaking generally. 'Good,'
+you'll say; 'ductible material, plenty of enthusiasm to work on.' Not a
+bit of it. Most of the men are engaged in the City as clerks upon a
+small wage. They are mentally rather "small" men. Their lives are hard
+and monotonous, their outlook upon life petty and vulgar. The lowest and
+the highest classes are far easier to get at because they are
+temperamentally more alike. The anarchists have some right on their side
+when they condemn the _bourgeoisie_! It's difficult to show a small
+brain a big thing. _Our_ difficulty is to explain the stupendous truths
+of Christianity to flabby and inert, machine-like fellows. When we _do_
+get hold of them, the very monotony of their lives makes religion a
+more valuable thing to them. But the temptations of this class are
+terribly strong, living alone in lodgings as they do. The cheap
+music-hall and bar attract them; dissipation forms their society. Their
+views of women are taken from their association with the girls of the
+streets and the theatres. As they have no settled place in society, they
+are horribly afraid of ridicule. They are a far more difficult lot than
+their colleagues who live in the suburbs and have chances for healthier
+recreations.
+
+"Then much of our work lies among women who seem irretrievably lost,
+and, I fear, very often are so. The Bloomsbury district is honeycombed
+with well-conducted dens of impurity. The women of a certain class have
+fixed upon the parish as their home. I don't mean the starving
+prostitute that one meets in the East End, I mean the fairly prosperous,
+utterly vicious, lazy women. You will meet with horrors of vice, a
+marvellous and stony indifference, in the course of your work. To reach
+some of these well-dressed, well-fed, well-housed girls, to show them
+the spiritual and even the economic and material end of their lives,
+requires almost superhuman powers. If an angel came some of them would
+not believe. And in the great and luxurious buildings of flats which
+have sprung up in all the squares, the well-known London
+_demi-mondaines_--people who dance upon the stage and whose pictures
+glare upon one from every hoarding--have made their homes and constantly
+parade before the eyes of others the wealth which is the reward of lust.
+
+"This is a wicked part of London, Gortre. And yet, day by day, in our
+beautiful church, where the Eucharist is celebrated and prayers go up
+unceasingly, we have evidences that our work is acceptable and that the
+Power is with us. Magdalen still comes with her jewels and her tears of
+repentance. I ask and beg of you to remember certain things--keep them
+always before your eyes--during your ministry among us. Whenever a man
+or woman comes to you, either at confession or otherwise, and tells of
+incredible sins, welcome the very slightest movement towards the light.
+Cultivate an all-embracing sympathy. I firmly believe that more souls
+have been lost by a repellent manner on the part of a priest, or an
+apparent lack of understanding, than any one has any idea of. Remember
+that when a thoroughly evil and warped nature has made a great effort
+and laid its spiritual case before a priest, it expects in its inner
+consciousness a pat on the back for its new efforts. It wants
+commendation. One _must_ fight warily, with a thorough psychological
+knowledge, with a broad humanity. To take even the slightest signs of
+repentance as a matter of course, to throw any doubt upon its reality or
+permanence, is to accept an awful responsibility. Err rather on the side
+of sentiment. Who are we to judge?"
+
+Gortre had listened with deep attention to Father Ripon's earnest words.
+He began to realise more clearly the difficulties of his new life. And
+yet the obstacles did not daunt him. They seemed rather a trumpet note
+for battle. Ripon's enthusiasm was contagious; he felt the exhilaration
+of the tried soldier at a coming contest.
+
+"One more thing," said the vicar. "In all your teaching and preaching
+hammer away at the great central fact of the Incarnation. No system of
+morals will reach these people--however plausible, however pure--unless
+you constantly bring the supernatural side of religion before them.
+Preach the Incarnation day in, day out. Don't, like so many men, regard
+it as an accepted fact merely, using it as a postulate on which to found
+a scheme of conduct. Once get the central truth of all into the hearts
+of a congregation, and then all else will follow. Now, good-night. I've
+kept you late, but I wished to have a talk with you. A good deal will
+devolve upon you. I have especially arranged that you should not live in
+the Clergy House with Stokes, Carr, and myself. I would rather that your
+environment should be more secular. Stokes and Carr are perhaps a little
+too priestly, too "professional" in manner, if you understand what I am
+driving at. Keep yourself from that. If you go among the young men, see
+them at home, smoke with them, and take what they offer you in the way
+of refreshment. Well, good-bye. You are to preach at Sunday Evensongs
+you know. Sir Michael Manichoe, our patron, will be there, and there
+will be a large congregation."
+
+He turned, said good-night with sudden abruptness, as if he had been
+lingering too long and was displeased with himself, and hurried away. It
+was his usual manner of farewell.
+
+A few minutes afterwards Gortre went to bed. He found it difficult to
+believe that he had walked down the Faubourg de la Barre that morning.
+It had been a crowded day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE RESURRECTION SERMON
+
+
+Sir Michael Manichoe was the great help and standby of St. Mary's. His
+father had been a wealthy banker in Rome, and a Jew. The son, who had
+enormously increased his inherited wealth, was an early convert to
+Christianity during his Oxford days in England. He was the Conservative
+member for a division in Lincolnshire, where his great country house was
+situated, and had become a pillar of the Church and State in England. In
+the House of Commons he presented the somewhat curious spectacle of a
+Jew by birth leading the moderate "Catholic" party. He was the great
+antagonist of Constantine Schuabe, and with equal wealth and position,
+though Schuabe was by far the more brilliant of the two men, he devoted
+all his energies to the opposition of the secular and agnostic
+influences of his political rival.
+
+Every Sunday during the session, when he was in London, Sir Michael
+drove to St. Mary's for both morning and evening service. He was church
+warden, and intimately concerned in all the parochial business, while
+his purse was always open at Father Ripon's request.
+
+Gortre had been introduced to Sir Michael during the week, and he knew
+the great man purposed attending to hear his first sermon at St. Mary's
+on the Sunday evening.
+
+He prepared his discourse with extreme care. A natural wish to make a
+good first impression animated him; but, as he sat late on the Saturday
+night, finally arranging his notes, he began to be conscious of new and
+surprising thoughts about the coming event. Earlier in the evening he
+had been talking to Hands, but the archaeologist had gone to bed and left
+him alone.
+
+The day had been a gloomy one. A black pall of fog fell over London at
+dawn, and had remained all day, almost choking him as he said evensong
+in the almost empty church.
+
+All day long he had felt strangely overweighted and depressed. A chance
+paragraph in an evening paper, stating that Mr. Schuabe, M.P., had
+returned from a short Continental trip, started an uneasy and gloomy
+train of thought. The memory of the terrible night at Walktown recurred
+to him with a horrible sense of unreality, the picture blurred somewhat,
+as if the fingers of the disease which had struck him down had already
+been pressing on his brain when he had been alone with the millionaire.
+Much of what he remembered of that dread interview must have been
+delusion. And yet in all other matters he was sane and unprejudiced
+enough. Many times he had met and argued with unbelievers. They had
+saddened him, but no more. Why was it that this man, notorious atheist
+as he was, filled him with a shuddering fear, a horror for which he had
+no name?
+
+Then also, what had been the significance of the incident at Dieppe--its
+true significance? Sir Robert Llwellyn had also inspired him with a
+feeling of utter loathing and abhorrence, though perhaps in a less
+degree. There was the sudden glimpse of Schuabe's signature on the
+letter. What was the connection between the two men? How could the
+Antichristian be in friendly communion with the greatest Higher Critic
+of the time?
+
+He recalled an even more sinister occurrence, or so it had seemed to
+him. Two days after his first introduction to Llwellyn and the dinner
+at the Pannier d'Or he had seen him enter the Paris train _with Schuabe_
+himself, who had just arrived from England. He had said nothing of the
+incident to Mr. Byars or Helena. They would have regarded it as ordinary
+enough. They knew nothing of what had passed between him and Schuabe.
+The deliberate words of Sir Robert at the restaurant recurred to him
+again and again, taking possession of his brain and ousting all other
+thoughts. What new discoveries was the Professor hinting at?
+
+What did the whole obsession of his brain mean?
+
+Curiously enough, he felt certain that these thoughts were in no way
+heralds of a new attack of brain fever. He knew this for a certainty. It
+seemed as if the persistent whisperings within him were rather the
+results of some spiritual message, as if the unseen agency which
+prompted them had some definite end and purpose in view.
+
+The more he prayed the stronger his premonitions became; added force was
+given to them, as if they were the direct causes of his supplications.
+
+It almost seemed that God was speaking to him.
+
+He had questioned Hands cautiously, trying to learn if any new and
+important facts bearing upon Biblical history were indeed likely to be
+discovered in the near future.
+
+But the answer did not amount to very much. The new and extensive
+excavations, under the permission of the lately granted firman from the
+Turkish Government, were only just beginning. The real work was to
+commence when Hands had finished his work in London and had returned to
+take charge of the operations.
+
+Of course, Hands had said there were possibilities of discovery of
+first-class importance, but he doubted it. The locality of Golgotha and
+the Holy Sepulchre was already established, in Hands's opinion. He had
+but little doubt of the authenticity of the established sites.
+Llwellyn's theories he scouted altogether, while agreeing with him in
+his negation of the Gordon Tomb.
+
+So there had been very little from Hands that was in any way
+satisfactory to Basil.
+
+But as he sat in the great silence of the night and read over the heads
+of the sermon a great sense of comfort came to him. He felt a mysterious
+sense of power, not merely because he knew the work was good, but
+something beyond that. He was conscious that for some reason or other
+that particular sermon which he was about to preach was one on which
+much depended. He could not say how or why he knew the thing was fraught
+with destiny to himself or others. He only knew it.
+
+Many years afterwards he remembered that quiet night, and the help which
+seemed to come to him suddenly, a renewed hope and confidence after the
+mental misery of the day.
+
+When he looked back on the terrible and stupendous events in which he
+had played so prominent a part, he was able to see clearly the chain of
+events, and to place his experience about what he always afterwards
+called his "Resurrection sermon" in their proper sequence.
+
+Looking back through the years, he saw that a more than mortal power was
+guiding him towards the fulfilment of a Divine purpose.
+
+But that night as he said his prayers before going to sleep he only felt
+a sweet security as he glanced at the MS. on the chair by his bedside.
+
+The future was not yet revealed to him. God spared him the torture of
+foreknowledge.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The pulpit was high above the heads of the people, much higher than is
+usual, a box of stone set in the great arch of the chancel.
+
+As Gortre stood for a moment, after the prayer, he kissed the stole and
+placed it, as a yoke, upon his shoulders. He looked down the great
+building and saw the hundreds of watchful, expectant faces, with an
+uplifting sense of power. He felt as if he were a mouthpiece of strange,
+unseen forces. The air seemed full of wings.
+
+For a moment the preacher paused and sent a keen glance over the
+congregation below. He saw Sir Michael Manichoe, dark, aquiline,
+Semitic, sitting in his front pew. A few seats behind him, with a sudden
+throb of surprise but nothing else, the calm and evil beauty of
+Constantine Schuabe's face looked up at him.
+
+The strangeness of the appearance and the shock of it had at that moment
+no menace or intimidation for him. Standing there to deliver God's
+message, in God's house, his enemy seemed to have no power to throw his
+brain into its old fear and tumult.
+
+Another face, unknown to him, arrested his attention.
+
+The sexes were not separated for worship in St. Mary's. In the same seat
+where Schuabe sat was a woman, dark, handsome, expensively dressed.
+
+She also was Jewish in appearance, though it was obvious that there was
+no connection between her and the millionaire. Her face, as the young
+clergyman's eyes rested on it for a second, seemed to be curiously
+familiar, as if he saw it every day of his life, but it nevertheless
+struck no _personal_ note.
+
+Gortre began to speak, taking for his text part of a verse from the
+Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans--"_Declared to be the Son of God with
+power, according to the spirit of holiness, by the resurrection of the
+dead._"
+
+"In this world of to-day," he began calmly, and with a certain
+deliberation and precision in his utterance, "what men in general are
+hungering after is a positive assurance of actual spiritual agency in
+the world. They crave for something to hold by which is outside
+themselves, and which cannot have grown out of the inner persuasions of
+men. They cannot understand people who tell them that, whether the
+events of the Gospels actually passed upon earth or not, they may
+fashion their own dispositions all the same, on the supposition that
+these events occurred. If I can to-night show that any appearance of the
+Risen Lord is attested in the same way as are certain facts commonly
+accepted as history, I shall have accomplished as much as I can hope."
+
+Then, very carefully, Gortre went through the scientific and historical
+evidences for the truth of the Resurrection. Gradually, as he marshalled
+his proofs and brought forth one after the other, he began, by a sort of
+unconscious hypnotism of the eye, to make the seat where Schuabe and the
+strange woman sat his objective.
+
+Many speakers have this automatic habit of addressing one or two persons
+as if they were the ear of the whole congregation. It is said that by
+such means, even if unconsciously employed, the brain becomes more
+concentrated and clearer for the work in hand.
+
+Slowly the preacher's voice became more resonant and triumphant. To many
+of the congregation the overwhelming and stupendous evidences for the
+truth of the Gospel narratives which the study of late years has
+collected was entirely new. The Higher Criticism, the fact that it is
+not only in science that "discoveries" can be made, the excavations in
+the East and the newly discovered MSS., with their variations of
+reading, the possibility that the lost Aramaic original of St. Matthew's
+Gospel may yet be discovered, were all things which came to them for
+the first time in their lives. Gortre's words began to open up to them
+an entirely new train of thought. Their interest was profoundly
+quickened.
+
+Very few clergymen of middle age are cognisant of the latest theological
+thought. Time, money, and lack of education alike prevent them. The
+slight mental endowment and very ordinary education which are all that
+is absolutely necessary for an ordination candidate, are not realised by
+the ordinary member of a church congregation. The mass of the English
+clergy to-day are content to leave such questions alone, to do their
+duty simply, to impose upon their flock the necessity of "faith," and to
+deny the right of individual judgment and speculation.
+
+They do not realise that the world of their middle age is more educated,
+and so more intelligent, than the world of their youth, and that, if the
+public intellect is nurtured by the public, those whose duty it is to
+keep it within the fold of Christianity must provide it with a food
+suited to its development.
+
+Gortre, in his sermon, had crystallised and boiled down into pregnant
+paragraphs, without circumlocution or obscurity, all the brilliant work
+of Latham, Westcott, Professor Ramsay, and Homersham Cox. He quoted
+Renan's passage from _Les Apotres_, dealing with the finding of the
+empty tomb, and showed the flaws and fallacies in that brilliant piece
+of antichristian suggestion.
+
+As he began to bring his arguments to a close he was conscious that the
+people were with him. He could feel the brains around him thinking in
+unison; it was almost as if he _heard_ the thoughts of the congregation.
+The dark, handsome woman stared straight up at him. Trouble was in her
+eyes, an awakened consciousness, and Gortre knew that the truth was
+dropping steadily into her mind, and that conviction was unwelcome and
+alarming.
+
+And he felt also the bitter antagonism which was alive and working
+behind the impassive face and half-closed eyes of the millionaire below.
+It was a silent duel between them. He knew that his words were full of
+meaning, _even of conviction_, to the man, and yet he was subjectively
+conscious of some _reserve_ of force, some hidden sense of fearful
+power, a desperate resolve which he could not overcome.
+
+His soul wrestled in this dark, mysterious conflict as with a devil, but
+could not prevail.
+
+He finished all his argument, the last of his proofs. There was a hushed
+silence in the church.
+
+Then swiftly, with a voice which trembled with the power that was given
+him, he called them to repentance and a new life. _If_, he said, his
+words had carried conviction of the truth of Christ's resurrection, of
+His divinity, then, believing that, there was but one course open to
+them all. For to know the truth, and to believe it, and to continue in
+indifference, was to kill the soul.
+
+It was over. Father Ripon had pronounced the blessing, the great organ
+was thundering out the requiem of another Sunday, and Sir Michael was
+shaking hands warmly with Basil in the vestry.
+
+Gortre was tired and shaken by the long, nervous strain, but the evident
+pleasure of Father Ripon and Sir Michael, the knowledge that he had
+acquitted himself well, was comforting and sustaining.
+
+He walked home, down quiet Holborn, curiously dead without the traffic
+of a week day and the lights of the shop fronts, and not reanimated by
+the strolling pedestrians, young people of the lower classes from the
+East End, who thronged it.
+
+Lincoln's Inn was wonderfully soothing and quiet as his footsteps echoed
+in the old quadrangle. After a lonely, tranquil supper--Hands was at a
+dinner-party somewhere in Mayfair and Spence was at the office of _The
+Daily Wire_ preparing for Monday's paper--he wheeled a small
+writing-desk up to the fireside and began a long letter of news and
+thankfulness to Helena.
+
+He pictured the pleasant dining-room at Walktown, the Sunday night's
+supper,--an institution at the Vicarage after the labours of the busiest
+day in the week,--with a guest or two perhaps.
+
+He knew they would be thinking of him, as he of them, and pictured the
+love-light in his lady's sweet, calm eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+"NEITHER DO I CONDEMN THEE"
+
+
+Autumn came to London, a warm, lingering season. There was a hint of the
+South in the atmosphere of town. All business moved with languor; there
+was more enjoyment in life as people went and came through the streets
+under so ripe and genial a sun.
+
+Gortre had settled down to steady, regular work. At no time before had a
+routine been so pleasant to him. His days were full of work, which, hard
+as it was, came to him with far more appeal than his duties at Walktown.
+Nothing ever stagnated here, at the very hub and centre of things.
+
+The splendid energy and force of Father Ripon, the magnificent
+unconvention of his methods, animated his staff to constant and
+unflagging exertions.
+
+Gortre felt that he was suddenly "grown up," that his life before had
+been spent in futile playtime compared to the present.
+
+One central fact in St. Mary's parish held all the great organisation
+together. This was the daily services in the great church. Priests,
+deacons, sisters of mercy, school teachers, and lay helpers all drew
+their strength and inspiration from this source. The daily Eucharist,
+matins, evensong, were both a stimulus and stimulant of enormous power.
+
+Church brought the mysteries in which they lived, moved, and had their
+being into intimate relation with every circumstance of daily life.
+
+The extraordinary thing, which many of Father Ripon's staff were almost
+unable to understand, was that more people did not avail themselves of
+what they regarded--viewing the thing from a standpoint of personal
+experience--such helpful opportunities.
+
+"They are always coming to me," Father Ripon had said on one occasion,
+"and complaining that they find such a tremendous difficulty in leading
+a holy life--say that the worldly surroundings and so forth kill their
+good impulses--and yet they _won't_ come to church. People are such
+fools! My young men imagine that they can become good Christians by a
+sort of sudden magic--a low beast on Saturday night, the twentieth of
+August, and, after a nerve storm in church and a few tears in the
+vestry, a saint for evermore! And then when they get drunk or do
+something beastly the next week, they rail against the Christian Faith
+because it isn't a sort of spiritual hand cuffs! And yet if you told
+them you could manage a bank after merely experience in a shipping
+office, they would see the absurdity of that at once. Donkeys!"
+
+This with a genial smile of tenderness and compassion, for this
+Whirlwind in a Cassock loved his flock.
+
+So from the very first Basil had found his life congenial. Privately he
+blessed his good fortune in living in Lincoln's Inn with Spence. On the
+nights when the journalist was free from the office, and not otherwise
+engaged, the two men sat late with pipes and coffee, enjoying that
+vigorous communion of two keen, young, and virile brains which is one of
+the truly stimulating pleasures of life.
+
+Gortre admired Spence greatly for some of his qualities. His intellect
+was, of course, first class--his high position on the great daily paper
+guaranteed that. His reading and sympathies were wide. Moreover, the
+clergyman found a great refreshment in the fact that, in an age of
+indifference, at a time when the best intellects of younger London life
+were professedly agnostic, Harold Spence was an avowed Christian and
+Churchman. As Gortre got to know him better, when the silence and
+detachment of midnight in the old Inn broke down reticence, he realised
+with a sense of thankfulness, and sometimes of fear also, how a thorough
+belief in religion kept the writer straight and captain of his own soul.
+
+For the man was a creature of strong passions and wayward desires. He
+had not always been the clean gentleman of the present. As is so often
+the case with a refined and cultured temperament, he had a dark and ugly
+side to his nature. The coarse vices of the blood called to him long and
+often with their hollow siren voices. Evil came to him with swift
+invitation and cunning allurement. He had hinted to Basil of days of sin
+and secret shame. And now, very soberly and without any emotion, he
+clung to Christ for help.
+
+And he had conquered.
+
+This was ever a glorious fact to Basil, another miracle in those
+thousands of daily miracles which were happening all around him. But his
+fear for Harold came from his realisation of his friend's exact
+spiritual grip. Spence's Christianity was rather too _utilitarian_ for
+safety. Perhaps the deep inward conviction was weak. It seemed sometimes
+as if it were a barren, thorny thing--too much fetish, too much a return
+for benefits received, a sort of half-conscious bargain. He often prayed
+long that nothing should ever occur to shake Spence's belief; for he
+felt, if that should happen, the disaster would prove irreparable. A
+dammed river is a dangerous thing.
+
+But he kept all these thoughts locked in his heart, and never spoke of
+them to Harold.
+
+Since the evening of his first sermon he had never seen Schuabe again.
+Now and then the thought of him passed through his brain, and his mental
+sight seemed obscured for a moment, as though great wings hid the sun
+from him. But since the silent duel in the church, the curious and
+malign influence of the millionaire had waned. It was prominent no
+longer, and when it troubled him it did so without power and force. Fine
+health, the tonic of constant work, the armour of continual prayer, had
+their way and were able to banish much of what he now looked back on as
+morbidity, sinister though it had been.
+
+Nevertheless, one thing often reminded him of that night. The dark,
+Jewish-looking lady he had seen sitting in the same pew with Schuabe
+often came to church on Sunday nights when he was preaching. The bold
+and insolently beautiful face looked up at him with steady interest. The
+fierce regard had something passionate and yet wistful in it.
+
+Sometimes Basil found himself preaching almost directly to the face and
+soul of the unknown woman. There was an understanding between them. He
+knew it; he felt it most certainly.
+
+Sometimes she would remain in her seat after the mass of the
+congregation had shuffled away into the night. She did not pray, but sat
+still, with her musing eyes fixed on the huge ten-foot crucifix that
+swung down from the chancel arch.
+
+Once, as he passed the pew on the way to baptise the child of a poor
+woman of the streets--brought in furtively after the Sunday
+evensong--she made a movement as if to speak to him. He had waited in
+expectation for a moment, but she remained still, and he passed on to
+the font, with its sad cluster of outcasts, its dim gas-jets, and the
+tiny child of shame with its thin cry of distress.
+
+He was asking the tremendous question--
+
+     "_Dost thou, in the name of this child, renounce the devil and all
+     his works, the vain pomp and glory of the world, with all covetous
+     desires of the same, and the carnal desires of the flesh, so that
+     thou wilt not follow nor be led by them?_"
+
+when he saw that the unknown woman was standing by within the shadow of
+a pillar. A gleam of yellow light fell through the dark on her rich
+dress, her eye glittered behind her white veil. He thought there was a
+tear in it. But when he was saying the exhortation he saw that the tall,
+silent figure had departed.
+
+He often wondered who the woman was,--if he should ever know her.
+
+Something told him that she wanted help. Something assured him that he
+should some day give it to her.
+
+And beyond this there was an unexplained conviction within him that the
+stranger was in some way concerned and bound up in the part he was to
+play in life.
+
+Long ago he had realised that it was idle to deny the interference of
+supernatural personalities in human life. Accepting the Incarnation, he
+accepted the Communion of Saints. And he was always conscious of hidden
+powers moulding, directing him.
+
+The episode of the cigarettes happened in this way.
+
+Stokes, one of Gortre's fellow-curates, came to supper one night in
+Lincoln's Inn.
+
+Spence was there also, as it was one of his free nights.
+
+About ten o'clock supper was over and they proposed to have a little
+music. Stokes was a fine pianist, and he had brought some of the
+nocturnes and ballads of Chopin with him, to try on the little
+black-cased piano which stood at an obtuse angle with the end of the
+large sitting-room.
+
+"Will you smoke, Stokes?" Spence said.
+
+"Thank you, I'll have a cigarette," the young man replied. "I can't
+stand cigars, and I've left my pipe at the Clergy House."
+
+They looked for cigarettes in the silver box lined with cedar which
+stood on the mantel-shelf, but some one had smoked them all and the box
+was empty.
+
+"Never mind," Spence said; "I've been meaning to run out and get a late
+_Westminster_ and I'll buy some cigarettes, too. There's a shop at the
+Holborn end of the Lane, next to the shop where the oysters come from,
+and it won't be shut yet."
+
+In a few minutes he came back with several packets of cigarettes in his
+hand. "I've brought Virginian," he said; "I know you can't stand
+Egyptian, none of us can, and if these are cheap, they're good, too."
+
+Till eleven o'clock Stokes played to them--Chopin's wild music of
+melancholy and fire--and as the hour struck he went home.
+
+Gortre and Spence sat and talked casually after he had gone, about the
+music they had heard, the cartoon in the evening paper, anything that
+came.
+
+Basil had not been smoking during the evening. He had been too intent
+upon the nocturnes, and now he felt a want of tobacco. One of the
+packets of cigarettes lay by him on the table. He pulled up the flaps
+and took one. Without thinking what he was doing he drew a little
+photograph, highly finished and very clear, from the tiny cardboard
+case.
+
+He glanced at it casually.
+
+The thing was one of those pictures of burlesque actresses which are
+given away with this kind of tobacco. A tall girl with short skirts and
+a large picture hat was shown in a coquettish attitude that was meant to
+be full of invitation.
+
+Basil looked at it steadily with a curious expression on his face. Then
+he took a large reading-glass from the table and examined it again,
+magnifying it to many times its original size.
+
+He scrutinised it with great care. It was the portrait of the strange
+girl who came to St. Mary's.
+
+Basil had told Spence of this woman, and now he passed the photograph on
+to him.
+
+"Harold, that is the girl who comes to church and looks so unhappy. She
+is an actress, of course. The name is underneath--Miss Gertrude Hunt.
+Who is Miss Gertrude Hunt?"
+
+Spence took the thing. "How very queer!" he said, "to find your unknown
+like this. Gertrude Hunt? Why, she is a well-known musical comedy girl,
+sings and dances at the Regent, you know. There are all the usual
+stories about the lady, but possibly they are all lies. I'm sure I don't
+know. I've chucked that sort of society long ago. Are you sure it's the
+same person?"
+
+"Oh, quite sure! Of course, this shows the girl in a different dress and
+so on, but it's she without a doubt. I am glad she comes to church. It
+is not what one expects from what one hears of that class of woman, and
+it's not what one generally finds in the parish."
+
+He sighed, thinking of the many chilling experiences of the last few
+months in the vice-haunted streets and squares of Bloomsbury.
+
+"Well," said Spence, "experiments with that type are generally failures,
+and sometimes dangerous to the experimenter. You remember Anatole
+France's _Thais_? But this damsel is no Thais certainly, and you aren't
+a bit like Paphuntius. I hope you will be able to do some good.
+Personally, anything of the sort would be quite impossible to me.
+Good-night, old man. I'm going to turn in. I've a hard day's work
+to-morrow. Sleep well."
+
+He went out of the room with a yawn.
+
+When he was left alone, with his little mystery solved in so commonplace
+a fashion, Basil was conscious of a curious disappointment. It was an
+anti-climax.
+
+He had no narrow objection to the theatre. Now and then he had been to
+see famous actors in great plays. His occasional visits to the theatres
+of Irving or Wyndham had given him pleasure, nevertheless he had always
+felt a slight instinctive dislike to the trade of a mime. All voluntary
+sacrifices of personal dignity affect the average English temperament in
+this way more or less. However much the apologists of the stage may cry
+"art" or "beneficial influence," your British thinker is not convinced
+that there is anything very worthy in painting the face and making the
+body a public show for a wage. And there is sometimes a kind of wonder
+in the heart of a sincere Christian who attends a theatre as he
+remembers that the body is the Temple of the Holy Spirit.
+
+Still Basil was tolerant enough. But this case which had thrust itself
+before him was quite different. He knew that the burlesque, the modern
+music play, made, first and foremost, a frank appeal to the senses. Its
+hopeless vulgarity and coarseness of sentiment, its entire lack of
+appeal to anything that was not debased and materialistic, were ordinary
+indisputable facts of every-day life. And so his lady of evensong was a
+high-priestess of nothing better than this cult of froth and gaudy
+sensuality. More than all others, his experiences of late had taught him
+that women of this class seemed to be very nearly soulless. Their souls
+had dissolved in champagne, their consciences were burnt up by the
+feverish excitement and pleasure of their lives. They sold themselves
+for luxury and the adulation of coarse men.
+
+His very chagrin made him bitter and contemptuous more than his wont.
+
+Then his eye lit upon a photogravure hung upon the opposite wall. It
+was the reproduction of a quaint, decorative, stilted picture by an
+artist of the early Umbrian school, and represented St. Mary Magdalene.
+
+The coincidence checked his contemptuous thoughts.
+
+He began to reconstruct the scene in his brain, a favourite and
+profitable exercise of his, using his knowledge and study of the old dim
+times to animate the picture and make it vivid.
+
+They were all resting, or rather lying, around the table, the body
+resting on the couch, the feet turned away from the table in the
+direction of the wall, while the left elbow rested on the table.
+
+And then, from the open courtyard, up the verandah step, perhaps through
+an antechamber, and by the open door, passed the figure of a woman into
+the festive reception-room and dining-hall. How had she gained access?
+How incongruous her figure must have been there! In those days the
+Jewish prejudice against any conversation with women--even those of the
+most lofty character--was extreme.
+
+The shadow of her form must have fallen on all who sat at meat. But no
+one spoke, nor did she heed any but One only.
+
+The woman had brought with her an _alabastron_ of perfume. It was a
+flask of precious _foliatum_, probably, which women wore round the neck,
+and which hung over the breast. The woman stood behind Him at His feet,
+and as she bowed reverently a shower of tears, like sudden summer rain,
+"bedewed" His feet.
+
+Basil went through the whole scene until the final, "Go _into_ peace"
+not go _in_ peace, as the logical dogmatics would have had it.
+
+And so she, the first who had come to Him for spiritual healing, went
+out into the better light, and into the eternal peace of the Kingdom of
+Heaven.
+
+Basil tore up the vulgar little photograph and forgot that aspect of the
+dancer. He remembered rather the dim figure by the font.
+
+There was a sudden furious knocking on the outer door of the chambers,
+and he went to open it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+POWERS OF GOOD AND EVIL
+
+
+Gortre felt certain that his vicar stood without. His knocking was full
+of militant Christianity. The tumultuous energy of the man without
+communicated its own stir and disturbance to Basil's brain by the most
+subtle of all forms of telepathy--that "telepathy" which, in a few more
+years, will have its definite recipes and formulae.
+
+Father Ripon refused to live by any standard of measured time. He
+refused--so he said--to believe that a wretched little clock really knew
+what the great golden sun was doing. He had found it impossible to call
+on Gortre before this late hour, and he came regardless of it now. He
+wished to see Basil, and he came now with a supreme and simple
+carelessness of conventional time.
+
+As usual, the worthy man was hungry, and the _debris_ of supper on the
+table reminded him of that. He sat down at once and began to eat
+rapidly, telling his story between mouthfuls.
+
+"I bring you news of a famous opportunity," he said. "If you go to work
+in the right way you may win a soul. It's a poor _demi-mondaine_
+creature, a dancer at the theatres. She came to me in her brougham, her
+furs, and finery, and had a chat in my study. I gave her tea and a
+cigarette--you know I always keep some cigarettes for the choir-men or
+teachers when they call. All these women smoke. It's a great thing to
+treat these people with understanding and knowledge, Gortre. Don't
+'come the priest' over them, as a coster said to me last week. When they
+realise that one is a man, _then_ they are fifty times more willing to
+allow the other and more important thing.
+
+"Well, this poor girl told me all about it, the same very sordid story
+one is always hearing. She is a favourite burlesque actress, and she
+lives very expensively in those gorgeous new flats--Bloomsbury Court.
+Some wealthy scoundrel pays for it all. A man 'in a very high position,'
+as she said with a pathetic little touch of pride which made me want to
+weep. Oh, my dear fellow, if the world only knew what I know! Great and
+honoured names in the senate, the forum, the Court, unsullied before the
+eyes of men. And then these hideous establishments and secret ties! This
+is a wicked city. The deadly lusts which war against the soul are great,
+powerful, and militant all around us.
+
+"This poor woman has been coming regularly to church on Sundays. The
+first time was when you preached your capital sermon on the
+Resurrection. Now, she is dying from a slow complaint. She will live a
+year or two, the doctors think, and that is all. It does not prevent her
+from living her ordinary life, but it will strike her down suddenly some
+day.
+
+"She has expressed a wish to see you to talk things over with you. She
+thinks you can help her. Go to her and save her. We _must_."
+
+He handed Gortre a visiting-card, on which he saw the name of Gertrude
+Hunt with a curious lack of surprise.
+
+"Well, I must be off," said Father Ripon, rising from the table with a
+large hunk of bread and cheese in one hand.
+
+"Go and see this poor woman to-morrow evening. She tells me she isn't
+acting for a week or two,--rehearsing some new play. Isn't it wonderful
+to think of the things that are going on every day? Just think of the
+Holy Spirit pouring into this sinning creature's heart, catching her in
+the middle of her champagne and frivolity, and just turning her, almost
+_compelling_ her towards Christ! And men like John Morley or Constantine
+Schuabe say there is no truth in Christianity!--I'll take one of these
+apples--poor fools! Now I must go and write my sermon."
+
+He was gone in a clattering rush.
+
+For a long time Basil sat thinking. The mysterious links of some great
+chain were being revealed inch by inch. Wonderful as these circumstances
+already seemed to him, he felt sure there was far more behind them than
+he knew as yet. There was some unseen tie, some influence that drew his
+thoughts ever more and more towards the library in the palace at
+Manchester.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next evening a maid showed Gortre into the hall of the flat of
+Bloomsbury Court Mansions, eyeing him curiously as she did so.
+
+He passed down the richly carpeted passage with a quickening of all his
+pulses, noticing the Moorish lamps of copper studded with turquoise
+which threw a dim crimson light over everything, marking the
+ostentatious luxury of the place with wonder.
+
+Gertrude Hunt lay back in a low arm-chair. She was dressed in a long,
+dull red teagown of cashmere, with a broad white band round the neck
+opening of white Indian needlework, embroidered with dark green leaves.
+
+Her face was pale and tired.
+
+Despite the general warmth of the time, a fire burnt steadily on the
+hearth.
+
+Gortre sat down at her invitation, and they fell into a desultory
+conversation. He waited for her to open on the real subjects that had
+brought him there.
+
+He watched the tired, handsome face. Coarse it certainly was, in
+expression rather than feature, but that very coarseness gave it power.
+This woman, who lived the life of a doll, had character. One saw that.
+Perhaps, he thought, as he looked at her, that the very eagerness and
+greed for pleasure marked in her face, the passionate determination to
+tear the heart and core out of life, might still be directed to purer
+and nobler ends.
+
+Then she began to talk to him quite frankly, and with no disguise or
+slurring over the facts of her life.
+
+"I'm sick and tired of it all, Mr. Gortre," she said bitterly. "You
+can't know what it means a bit--lucky for you. Imagine spending all your
+life in a room painted bright yellow, eating nothing but chocolate
+creams, with a band playing comic songs for ever and ever. And even then
+you won't get it."
+
+Basil shuddered. There was something so poignant and forceful in her
+words that they hurt, stung like a whip-lash. He was being brought into
+terrible contact not only with sin and the satiety of sin, but with its
+results. The hideous staleness and torture of it all appalled him as he
+looked at this human personification of it in the crimson gown.
+
+"That's how it was at first," she continued. "I knew there was something
+more than this in life, though. I could read it in people's faces. So I
+came to the service at your church one Sunday evening. I'd never made
+fun of religion and all that at any time. I simply couldn't believe it,
+that was all. Then I heard you preach on the Resurrection. I heard all
+the proofs for the first time. Of course, I could see there wasn't any
+doubt about the matter at all. Then, curiously, directly I began to
+_believe_ in it I began to hate the way I was going on, so I went to
+Father Ripon, who was very nice, and he said you'd call."
+
+"I quite understand you, Miss Hunt," said Gortre. "That's the beauty of
+faith. When once you believe, then you've _got_ to change. It's a great
+pity, a very great pity, that clergymen don't attempt to explain things
+more than they do. If one isn't built in a certain way, I can quite
+understand and sympathise with any one who isn't able to take a parson's
+mere statement on trust, so to speak. But that's beside the way. _You_
+believe at any rate. And now what are you going to do? I'm here to help
+you in every possible way. I want to hear your views, just as you have
+thought them out."
+
+"I like that," she said. "That's practical and sensible. I've never
+cared very much for sentimental ways of looking at things. You know I
+can't live very long. I've got enough to live quietly on for some years,
+put away in a bank, money I've made acting. I haven't spent a penny of
+my salary for years--I've made the men pay for everything. I shall go
+quietly away to the country and be alone with my thoughts, close to a
+little quiet church. You'll find a place for me, won't you? That's what
+I want to do. But there's something in the way, and a big something,
+too."
+
+"I'm here to help that," said Basil.
+
+"It's Bob," she answered. "The man that keeps me. I'm afraid of him.
+He's been away for months, out of England, but he's coming back at once.
+To-morrow as likely as not, he couldn't say to a day. I had a letter
+from Brindisi last week. He's been to Palestine, _via_ Alexandria."
+
+A quick premonition took hold of the young man.
+
+"Who is he?" he asked.
+
+She took a photograph from the mantel-shelf and gave it to him. It was
+one of the Stereoscopic Company's series of "celebrities." Under the
+portrait was printed--"Sir Robert Llwellyn."
+
+Gortre started violently.
+
+"I know him," he said thickly. "I felt when I met him--What does it all
+mean?"
+
+He dropped his head into his hands, filled with the old, nameless,
+unreasoning fear.
+
+She looked steadily at him, wondering at his manner.
+
+There was a tense silence for a time.
+
+In the silence suddenly they heard a sound, clear and distinct. A key
+was being inserted into the door of the flat.
+
+They waited breathlessly. Gertrude Hunt grew very white. Without any
+words from her, Basil knew whose fingers were even now upon the handle
+of the door.
+
+Llwellyn entered. His huge form was dressed in a light grey suit and he
+carried a straw hat in his hand. His face was burned a deep brown.
+
+He stopped suddenly as he saw Gortre and an ugly look flashed out on the
+sensual, intellectual face. Some swift intuition seemed to give him the
+key of the situation or something near it.
+
+"The curate of Dieppe!" he said in a cold, mirthless voice. "And what,
+Mr. Gortre, may I ask, are you doing here?"
+
+"Miss Hunt has asked me to come and see her," answered Basil.
+
+"Consoling yourself with the Church, Gertie, while your proprietor is
+away?" Llwellyn said with a sneer.
+
+Then his manner changed suddenly.
+
+He turned to Gortre. "Now then, my man," he snarled, "get out of this
+place at once. You may not know that I pay the rent and other expenses
+of this establishment. It is _mine_. I know all about you. Your
+reputation has reached me from sources you have little idea of. And I
+saw you at Dieppe. I don't propose to resume our acquaintance in London;
+kindly go at once."
+
+Basil looked at the woman. He saw pleading, a terrible entreaty in her
+eyes. If he left her now, the power of this man, his strength of will,
+might drag her back for ever into hell. He could see the girl regarded
+him with terror. There was a great surprise in her face also. The man
+seemed so strong and purposeful. Even Gortre remembered that he had worn
+no such indefinable air of confidence and triumph six months ago in
+France.
+
+"Miss Hunt wants me to stay, sir," he answered quietly, "and so I'm
+going to stay. But perhaps you had better be given an explanation at
+once. Miss Hunt is going to leave you to-morrow. She will never see you
+again."
+
+"And may I ask," the big man answered, "why you have interfered in my
+private affairs and why you _think_--for she is going to do nothing of
+the sort--Miss Hunt is going from here?"
+
+"Simply because the Holy Spirit wills it so," said the clergyman.
+
+Llwellyn looked steadily at him and then at the woman.
+
+Something he saw in their faces told him the truth.
+
+He laughed shortly. "Let me tell you," he said in a voice which quivered
+with ugly passion, "that in a short time all meddling priests will lose
+their power over the minds of others for ever. Your Christ, your God,
+the pale dreamer of the East, shall be revealed to you and all men at
+last!"
+
+His manner had changed once more. Fierce as it was, there was an intense
+_meaning_ and power in it. He spoke as one having authority, with also a
+concentrated hate in his words, so real and bitter that it gave them a
+certain fineness.
+
+"Yes!" he continued, lifting his arm with a sudden gesture:
+
+    "'Far hence He lies
+      In the lorn Syrian town,
+    And on His grave, with shining eyes,
+      The Syrian stars look down.'"
+
+Gortre answered him:
+
+"You lie and you know you lie! and by the powers given to me I'll tell
+you so from God Himself. Christ is risen! And as the day follows the
+night so the Spirit of God remains upon the earth God once visited, and
+works upon the hearts of men."
+
+"Are you going?" said Llwellyn, stepping towards Gortre.
+
+"No," the young man answered in sharp, angry tones. "It's you that are
+going, Sir Robert. You know as well as I do that I can do exactly as I
+like with you if it comes to force. And really I am not at all
+disinclined to do so, despite my parson's coat. Then you will have your
+remedy, you know. The newly made knight fighting a clergyman under such
+very curious circumstances! If this thing is to become open talk, then
+let us have it so. You can do me no harm. I came here at my vicar's
+request and Miss Hunt's. You know best if you can stand a scandal of
+this kind in your position. Now I'm going to use my last argument. Are
+you going at once or shall I knock you down and kick you out?"
+
+He could not help a note of exultation in his voice, try as he would. He
+was still a young man, full of power and virility. His life had brought
+no trace of effeminacy with it. And as he saw this splendid lying
+intellect, the slave of evil, and rejoicing in it, as he heard the
+arrogant denial of Christ's Godhead coming sonorously from those
+polluted lips, a wild longing flared up in him. Like a sudden flame,
+the impulse to strike a clean, hard blow fired all his blood. The old
+Oxford days of athletic triumphs on field, flood, and river came back to
+him.
+
+He measured the man scientifically with his eyes, judging his distance,
+alert to strike.
+
+But Llwellyn made no further movement of aggression and uttered no word
+of menace. He did not seem in the least afraid of Gortre or in any way
+intimidated by him. Indeed, he laughed, a laugh which was very hollow,
+mirthless, and cold.
+
+"Ah, my boy," he said, "I have a worse harm to work you than you can
+dream of yet. You will remember me some day. You can't frighten me now.
+I will go. I want no scandal. Good-bye, Gertrude. You also will remember
+and regret some day. Good-bye."
+
+He went noiselessly out of the room, still with the strange flickering
+smile of prescience and fate upon his evil face.
+
+When he had gone, Gertrude fell into a passion of weeping. The strain
+had been too great. Basil comforted her as well as he could, and before
+he went promised to see Father Ripon that night and make arrangements
+that she should quietly disappear the next day to some distant
+undiscoverable haven.
+
+Then he also went out into the night, through the silent squares of
+sleeping houses towards the Clergy House of St. Mary's. Once more his
+nerves were unstrung and the old fears and the sense of
+waiting--Damocles-like for some blow to fall--poured over him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sir Robert walked swiftly to Oxford Street, where he found a cab. He
+ordered the man to drive him to the Sheridan Club. On the way he stopped
+at Charing Cross Station and ordered his luggage to be sent home at
+once to his house in Upper Berkeley Street. He had only been in London
+two or three hours, having crossed from Calais that afternoon.
+
+He washed when he had arrived at the famous club, and then went
+up-stairs to the grill-room for some supper. It was the hour when the
+Sheridan is full of the upper Bohemian world. Great actors and
+musicians, a judge on his way through town from one watering-place to
+another,--for it was now the long vacation,--a good many well-known
+journalists, all sorts and conditions of men. All were eminent in their
+work, for that was a condition of membership.
+
+Llwellyn was welcomed on all sides, though men noticed that he seemed
+preoccupied. His healthy appearance was commented on, his face browned,
+as was supposed, by the sun of the Riviera, his general fitness of
+manner and carriage.
+
+He took supper by himself at a small table, choosing the menu with his
+usual extreme care, and more than once summoning the head waiter to
+conference. Although he kept glancing at his watch, as if expecting an
+arrival, he made a good meal, mixing his own salad of crisp white
+lettuce with deliberation.
+
+He had sent a page early on his arrival to find out if Mr. Constantine
+Schuabe was in the club.
+
+He was standing at the desk in the middle of the room, paying his bill,
+when the swing-doors were pushed open and Schuabe entered. He was in
+evening dress and carried a light overcoat on his arm.
+
+Llwellyn gathered up his change and went to meet him. Had there been an
+attentive observer to mark the meeting of the two men he would have
+perhaps been a little surprised at the fashion of it.
+
+Although Llwellyn was a six-months' stranger to London, and the meeting
+between the two men was obviously prearranged, _neither of the two men
+smiled as they shook hands_. Both were expectant of each other, pale,
+almost with some apprehension, it might have been fancied; and though
+the meeting seemed a relief to each, there was little human kindliness
+in it.
+
+"Come down to the Hotel," said Schuabe; "we can't possibly say anything
+here, every room is full."
+
+They walked out of the club together, two figures of noticeable
+distinction, very obviously belonging to the ruling classes of England.
+The millionaire's pale and beautiful face was worn and lined.
+
+"Schuabe seems a bit done up," one man in the hall said to another as
+the two friends passed through.
+
+"Heat, I suppose," answered his companion. "Handsome chap, though;
+doesn't seem to care for anything worth having, only books and politics
+and that. Wish I'd his money."
+
+"So do I. But give me Bob Llwellyn of these two. Thoroughly decent sort
+_he_ is. Invented two new omelettes and a white soup. Forgets all about
+his thing-um-bobs--old Egyptian or something--they knighted him for
+directly he leaves the Museum."
+
+"That's the sort," answered a third man who had joined them. "I don't
+object to a Johnny having a brain, and knowing a devil of a lot, if
+he'll only jolly well keep it to himself. Bob does that. I'm going
+up-stairs to have a turn at poker. You fellows coming?"
+
+Schuabe and Llwellyn walked to the Cecil, no great distance, saying
+little by the way, and presently they were in the millionaire's great
+room, with its spacious view over the river.
+
+The place was beautifully cool and full of flowers. A great block of ice
+rose from a copper bowl placed on a pedestal. The carpet had been
+covered with light matting of rice straw, brought from Rawal-pindi. All
+the windows leading to the balcony were wide open, and the balcony was
+covered with striped awning, underneath which the electric lights glowed
+on the leaves of Japanese palms, seeming as if they had been cunningly
+lacquered a metallic green colour, and on low chairs of white bleached
+rushes.
+
+The two men sat down in the centre of the room on light chairs, with a
+small Turkish table and cool drinks between them.
+
+"You've had all my letters, my last from Jaffa?" asked Sir Robert.
+
+"Yes, all of them," said Schuabe; "each one was carefully destroyed
+after I had read it and memorialised the contents. Let me say now that
+you have done your work with extraordinary brilliance. It has been an
+intellectual pleasure of a high order to follow your proceedings and
+know your plans. There is not another man in the world who could do what
+you have done. Everything seems guarded against, all is secure."
+
+"You are right, Schuabe," said Llwellyn, in a matter-of-fact voice. "You
+bade me make a certain thing _possible_. You paid me proportionately to
+the terrible risks and for my unrivalled knowledge. Well, you and I are
+going to shake the whole world as no two other men have ever done, and
+what will be the end?"
+
+"The end!" cried Schuabe, in a high, strained, unnatural voice. "Who
+shall say? What man can know? For ever more the gigantic fable of the
+Cross and the Man God will be overthrown. The temples of the world will
+fall into the abomination of desolation, and you and I, latter-day
+bringers of light--Lucifers!--will kill the pale Nazarene more surely
+than the Sanhedrists and soldiers of the past."
+
+There was a thin madness in his voice. The great figure of the _savant_
+shifted uneasily in its chair.
+
+"That fellow Gortre, that abominable young priest, has been getting in
+my way to-night," he said with a savage curse. "I found him with
+Gertrude Hunt, the woman I've spent thousands on! The priests have got
+her; she's going to 'lead a new life.' She has 'found Christ'!"
+
+Schuabe smiled horribly, a cunning smile of unutterable malice.
+
+"He has crossed my path also," he said; "in some way, by a series of
+coincidences, he has become slightly involved in our lives. Leave the
+matter to me. So small a thing as the fanaticism of one obscure youth is
+nothing to trouble us. I will see to his future. But he shall live to
+know what is coming to the world. Then--it is easy enough. He thwarted
+_me_ one night also."
+
+They were silent for a minute or two. Sir Robert lifted a long glass to
+his lips. His hand shook with passion, and the ice in the liquid clinked
+and tinkled.
+
+"Everything is now ready," he said at last, glancing at Schuabe. "Every
+detail. Ionides knows what he has to do when he receives the signal. He
+is a mere tool, and knows and cares nothing of what will happen. He is
+to direct the excavators in certain directions, that is all. It will be
+three months, so I calculate, after we have set the machinery in motion,
+before the blow will fall. It rests with you now to begin."
+
+"The sign shall go at once," said Schuabe. His eyes glittered, his mouth
+worked with emotion.
+
+"It is a letter with a single sign on it."
+
+"What is the sign?"
+
+"A drawing of a broken cross."
+
+"Before the day dawns we will send the broken cross to Jerusalem."
+
+
+END OF BOOK I
+
+
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+"A horror of great darkness."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+WHILE LONDON WAS SLEEPING
+
+
+In the winter, two or three weeks before Christmas, Gortre asked Father
+Ripon for a ten days' holiday, and went to Walktown to spend the time
+with Mr. Byars and Helena. Christmas itself could be no time of vacation
+for him,--the duties of St. Mary's were very heavy,--so he snatched a
+respite from work before the actual time of festival.
+
+Harold Spence was left alone in the chambers at Lincoln's Inn. The
+journalist found himself discontented, lonely, and bored. He had not
+realised before how much Basil's society had contributed to his
+happiness during the past few months. It had grown to be a necessity to
+him gradually, and, as is the case with all gradual processes, the lack
+of it surprised him with its sense of incompleteness and loss.
+
+He had spent a hard summer and autumn over very uncongenial work. For
+months there had been a curious lull and calm in the news-world. Yet day
+by day the _Daily Wire_ had to be filled. Not that there was any lack of
+material,--even in the dullest season the expert journalist will tell
+one that his difficulty is what to _leave out_ of his paper, not what to
+_put in_,--but that the material was uninteresting and dull.
+
+He felt himself that his leaders were growing rather stale, lacking in
+spontaneity. His style did not glitter and ring quite as usual. And
+Basil had helped him through this time wonderfully.
+
+One Wednesday--he remembered the day afterwards--Spence awoke about
+mid-day. He had been late at the office the night before and afterwards
+had gone to a club, not going to bed till after four.
+
+He heard the laundress moving about the chambers preparing his
+breakfast. He shouted to her, and in a minute or two she came in with
+his letters and a cup of tea. She went to the window and pulled up the
+blind, letting a dreary grey-yellow December light into the room.
+
+"Nasty day, Mrs. Buscall," he said, sipping his tea.
+
+"It is so, sir," the woman said, a lean, kindly-faced London drudge from
+a court in Drury Lane. "Gives me a frog in my throat all the time, this
+fog does. You'd better let me pour a drop of hot water in your bath,
+sir. I've got the kettle on the gas stove."
+
+The laundress had an objection to baths, deep-rooted and a matter of
+principle. The daily cold tub she regarded as suicidal, and when Gortre
+had arrived, her pained surprise at finding him also--a clergyman
+too!--addicted to such adventurous and injudicious habits had been as
+extreme as her disappointment.
+
+Spence agreed to humour her, and she began to prepare the bath.
+
+"Letter from Mr. Cyril, I see, sir," she remarked. Mrs. Buscall loved
+the archaeologist with more strenuousness than her other two charges. The
+unusual and mysterious has a real fascination for a certain type of
+uneducated Cockney brain. Hands's rare sojourns at the chambers, the
+Eastern dresses and pictures in his room, his strange and perilous
+life--as she considered it--in the veritable Bible land, where Satan
+actually roamed the desert in the form of a lion seeking whom he might
+devour, all these stimulated her crude imagination and brought colour
+into the dreary purlieus of Drury Lane.
+
+Most of the women around Mrs. Buscall drank gin. The doings of Cyril
+Hands were sufficient tonic for her.
+
+Spence glanced at the bulky packet with its Turkish stamps and peculiar
+aroma--which the London fog had not yet killed--of ships and alien suns.
+Hands was a good correspondent. Sometimes he sent general articles on
+the work he was doing, not too technical, and Ommaney, the editor of
+Spence's paper, used and paid well for them.
+
+But on this morning Spence did not feel inclined to open the packet. It
+could wait. He was not in the humour for it now. It would be too
+tantalising to read of those deep skies like a hard, hollow turquoise,
+of the flaming white sun, the white mosques and minarets throwing purple
+shadows round the cypress and olive.
+
+"_Neque enim ignari sumus_," he muttered to himself, recalling the swing
+and freedom of his own travels, the vivid, picturesque life where, at
+great moments, he had been one of the eyes of England, flashing electric
+words to tell his countrymen of what lay before him.
+
+And now, after the chill of his bath and the rasping torture of shaving
+in winter, he must light all the gas-jets as he sat down to breakfast in
+his sitting-room!
+
+He opened the _Wire_ and glanced at his own work of the night before.
+How lifeless it seemed to him!
+
+     "Many years ago Bagehot wrote that 'Parliament expresses the
+     nation's opinions in words well, when it happens that words, not
+     laws, are wanted. On foreign matters, where we cannot legislate,
+     whatever the English nation thinks, or thinks it thinks, as to the
+     critical events of the world, whether in Denmark, in Italy or
+     America, and no matter whether it thinks wisely or unwisely, that
+     same something, wise or unwise, will be thoroughly well said in
+     Parliament.'
+
+     "We have never read a finer defence of such Parliamentary
+     discussion as the recent events in certain Continental
+     bureaucracies have given rise to, etc., etc."
+
+Words! words! words! that seemed to him to mean little and matter
+nothing. Yet as he chipped his egg he remembered that the writing of
+this leader had meant considerable mental strain. Oh, for a big
+happening abroad, when he would be sent and another would take up this
+routine work! He knew he was a far better correspondent than leader
+writer. His heart was in that work.
+
+There were one or two invitations among his letters, two books were sent
+by a young publisher, a friend of his, asking if he could get them
+"noticed" in the _Wire_, and a syllabus of some winter lectures to be
+given at Oxford House. His name was there. He was to lecture in January
+on "The Sodality of the Knights of St. John".
+
+After breakfast, the lunch time of most of the world, he found it
+impossible to settle down to anything. He was not due at the office that
+night, and the long hours, without the excitement of his work, stretched
+rather hopelessly before him. He thought of paying calls in the various
+parts of the West End, where he had friends whom he had rather neglected
+of late. But he dismissed that idea when it came, for he did not feel as
+if he could make himself very agreeable to any one.
+
+He wanted a complete change of some sort. He half thought of running
+down to Brighton, fighting the cold, bracing sea winds on the lawns at
+Hove, and returning the next day.
+
+He was certainly out of sorts, liverish no doubt, and the solution to
+his difficulties presented itself to him in the project of a Turkish
+bath.
+
+He put his correspondence into the pocket of his overcoat, to be read
+at leisure, and drove to a hammam in Jermyn Street.
+
+The physical warmth, the silence, the dim lights, and Oriental
+decorations induced a supreme sense of comfort and _bien-etre_. It
+brought Constantinople back to him in vague reverie.
+
+Perhaps, he thought, the Turkish bath in London is the only easy way to
+obtain a sudden and absolute change of environment. Nothing else brings
+detachment so readily, is so instinct with change and the unusual.
+
+In delightful langour he passed from one dim chamber to another, lying
+prone in the great heat which surrounded him like a cloak. Then the
+vigorous kneading and massage, the gradual toning and renovating of each
+joint and muscle, till he stood drenched in aromatic foam, a new, fresh
+physical personality. The swift dive under the india-rubber curtain left
+behind the domed, dim places of heat and silence. He plunged through the
+bottle-green water of the marble pool into the hall, where lounges stood
+about by small inlaid octagonal tables, and a thin whip of a fountain
+tinkled among green palms. Wrapped from head to foot in soft white
+towels, he lay in a dream of contentment, watching the delicate spirals
+from his Cairene cigarette, and sipping the brown froth of a tiny cup of
+thick coffee.
+
+At four a slippered attendant brought him a sole and a bottle of yellow
+wine, and after the light meal he fell once more into a placid,
+restorative sleep.
+
+And all the while the letter from Jerusalem was in his overcoat pocket,
+forgotten, hung in the entrance-hall. The thing which was to alter the
+lives of thousands and ten thousands, that was to bring a cloud over
+England more dark and menacing than it had ever known, lay there with
+its stupendous message, its relentless influence, while outside the
+church bells all over London were tolling for Evensong.
+
+At length, as night was falling, Spence went out into the lighted
+streets with their sudden roar of welcome. He was immensely refreshed in
+brain and body. His thoughts moved quickly and well, depression had left
+him, the activity of his brain was unceasing.
+
+As a rule, especially for the last year or two, Spence was by no means a
+man given to casual amusements. His work was too absorbing for him to
+have time or inclination to follow pleasure. But to-night he felt in the
+humour for relaxation.
+
+He turned into St. James Street, where his club was, intending to find
+some one who would go to a music-hall with him. There was no one he knew
+intimately in the smoking-room, but soon after he arrived Lambert, one
+of the deputy curators from the British Museum, came in. Spence and
+Lambert had been at Marlborough together.
+
+Spence asked Lambert, who was in evening dress, to be his companion.
+
+"Sorry I can't, old man," he answered; "I've got to dine with my uncle,
+Sir Michael. It's a bore, of course, but it's policy. The place will be
+full of High Church bishops, minor Cabinet Ministers, and people of that
+sort. I only hope old Ripon will be there--he's my uncle's tame vicar,
+you know; uncle runs an expensive church, like some men run a
+theatre--for he's always bright and amusing. You're not working
+to-night, then?"
+
+"No, not to-night. I've been and had a Turkish bath, and I thought I'd
+wind up a day of mild dissipation by going to the Alhambra."
+
+"Sorry I can't go too--awful bore. I've had a tiring day, too, and a
+ballet would be refreshing. The governor's been in a state of filthy
+irritation and nerves for the last fortnight."
+
+"Sir Robert Llwellyn, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, he's my chief, and a very good fellow too, as a rule. He went away
+for several months, you know--travelled abroad for his health. When he
+first came back, three months ago, he looked as fit as a fiddle, and
+seemed awfully pleased with himself all round. But lately he's been
+decidedly off colour. He seems worried about something, does hardly any
+work, and always seems waiting and looking out for a coming event. He
+bothers me out of my life, always coming into my room and talking about
+nothing, or speculating upon the possibility of all sorts of new
+discoveries which will upset every one's theories."
+
+"I met him in Dieppe in the spring. He seemed all right then, just at
+the beginning of his leave."
+
+"Well, he's certainly not that now, worse luck, and confound him. He
+interferes with my work no end. Good-bye; sorry I must go."
+
+He passed softly over the heavy carpet of the smoking-room, and Spence
+was left alone once more.
+
+It was after seven o'clock.
+
+Spence wasn't hungry yet. The light meal in the hammam had satisfied
+him. He resolved to go to the Empire alone, not because the idea of
+going seemed very attractive, but because he had planned it and could
+substitute no other way of spending the evening for the first
+determination.
+
+So, about nine o'clock, he strolled into the huge, garish music-hall.
+
+He went into the Empire, and already his contentment was beginning to
+die away again. The day seemed a day of trivialities, a sordid,
+uneventful day of London gloom, which he had vainly tried to disperse
+with little futile rockets of amusement.
+
+He sat down in a stall and watched a clever juggler doing wonderful
+things with billiard balls. After the juggler a coarsely handsome
+Spanish girl came upon the stage--he remembered her at La Scala, in
+Paris. She was said to be one of the beauties of Europe, and a king's
+favourite.
+
+After the Spanish woman there were two men, "brothers" some one. One was
+disguised as a donkey--a veritable _peau de chagrin_!--the other as a
+tramp, and together they did laughable things.
+
+With a sigh he went up-stairs and moved slowly through the thronged
+promenade. The hard faces of the men and women repelled him. One elderly
+Jewish-looking person reminded him of a great grey slug. He turned into
+the American bar at one extremity of the horse-shoe. It was early yet,
+and the big room, pleasantly cool, was quite empty. A man brought him a
+long, parti-coloured drink.
+
+He felt the pressure of a packet in his pocket. It was Cyril Hands's
+letter, he found as he took it out. He thought of young Lambert at the
+club, a friend of Hands and fellow-worker in the same field, and
+languidly opened the letter.
+
+Two women came in and sat at a table not far from him as he began to
+read. He was the only man in the place, and they regarded him with a
+tense, conscious interest.
+
+They saw him open a bulky envelope with a careless manner. He would look
+up soon, they expected.
+
+But as they watched they saw a sudden, swift contraction of the brows, a
+momentous convulsion of every feature. His head bent lower towards the
+manuscript. They saw that he became very pale.
+
+In a minute or two what had at first seemed a singular paleness became a
+frightful ashen colour.
+
+"That Johnny's going to be ill," one of the women said to the other.
+
+As she spoke they saw the face change. A lurid excitement burst upon it
+like a flame. The eyes glowed, the mouth settled into swift purpose.
+
+Spence took up his hat and left the room with quick, decided steps. He
+threaded his way through the crowd round the circle--like a bed of
+orchids, surrounded by heavy, poisonous scents--and almost ran into the
+street.
+
+A cab was waiting. He got into it, and, inspired by his words and
+appearance, the man drove furiously down dark Garrick Street, and the
+blazing Strand towards the offices of the _Daily Wire_.
+
+The great building of dressed stone which stood in the middle of Fleet
+Street was dark. The advertisement halls and business offices were
+closed.
+
+Spence paid his man and dived down a long, narrow passage, paved, and
+with high walls on either side. At the end of the passage he pushed open
+some battered swing-doors. A _commissionaire_ in a little hutch touched
+his cap as Spence ran up a broad flight of stone stairs.
+
+The journalist turned down a long corridor with doors on either side.
+The glass fanlights over the doors showed that all the rooms were
+brilliantly lit within. The place was very quiet, save for the distant
+clicking of a typewriter and the thud of a "column-printer" tape machine
+as the wheel carrier shot back for a new line.
+
+He opened a door with his own name painted on it and went inside. At a
+very large writing-table, on which stood two shaded electric lights, an
+elderly man, heavily built and bearded, was writing on small slips of
+paper. There was another table in the room, a great many books on
+shelves upon the walls, and a thick carpet. The big man looked up as
+Spence came in, lifted a cup of tea which was standing by him, and drank
+a little. He nodded without speaking, and went on with his leading
+article.
+
+Spence took off his hat and coat, drew the sheets of Hands's letter from
+his pocket, and went out into the passage. At the extreme end he opened
+a door, and passing round a red baize screen found himself in Ommaney's
+room, the centre of the great web of brains and machinery which daily
+gave the _Wire_ to the world.
+
+Ommaney's room was very large, warm, and bright. It was also extremely
+tidy. The writing-table had little on it save a great blotting-pad and
+an inkstand. The books on chairs and shelves were neatly arranged.
+
+The editor sat at a table in the centre of the room, facing several
+doors which led into various departments of the staff. The chief
+sub-editor, a short, alert person, spectacled and Jewish in aspect,
+stood by Ommaney's side as Spence came in. He had proof of page three in
+his hand--that portion of the paper which consisted of news which had
+accumulated through the day. He was submitting it to the editor, so that
+the whole sheet might be finally "passed for press" and "go to the
+foundry," where the type would be pressed into _papier-mache_ moulds,
+from which the final curved plates for the roller machines would be
+cast.
+
+"Not at all a bad make-up, Levita," Ommaney said, as he initialled the
+margin in blue pencil. The sub-editor hurried from the room.
+
+Ommaney was slim and pale, carefully dressed, and of medium height. He
+did not look very old. His moustache was golden and carefully tended,
+his pale, honey-coloured hair waved over a high, white forehead.
+
+"I shall want an hour," Spence said. "I've just got what may be the most
+stupendous news any newspaper has ever published."
+
+The editor looked up quickly. A flash of interest passed over his pale,
+immobile face and was gone. He knew that if Spence spoke like this the
+occasion was momentous.
+
+He looked at his watch. "Is it news for to-night's paper?" he said.
+
+"No," answered Spence. "I'm the only man in England, I think, who has it
+yet. We shall gain nothing by printing to-night. But we must settle on a
+course of action at once. That won't wait. You'll understand when I
+explain."
+
+Ommaney nodded. On the writing-table was a mahogany stand about a foot
+square. A circle was described on it, and all round the circle, like the
+figures on the face of a clock, were little ivory tablets an inch long,
+with a name printed on each. In the centre of the circle a vulcanite
+handle moved a steel bar working on a pivot. Ommaney turned the handle
+till the end of the bar rested over the tablet marked
+
+                 +--------------------+
+                 |   COMPOSING ROOM   |
+                 +--------------------+
+
+He picked up the receiver and transmitter of a portable telephone and
+asked one or two questions.
+
+When he had communicated with several other rooms in this way Ommaney
+turned to Spence.
+
+"All right," he said, "I can give you an hour now. Things are fairly
+easy to-night."
+
+He got up from the writing-table and sat down by the fire. Spence took a
+chair opposite.
+
+He seemed dazed. He was trembling with excitement, his face was pale
+with it, yet, above and beyond this agitation, there was almost fear in
+his eyes.
+
+"It's a discovery in Palestine--at Jerusalem," he said in a low,
+vibrating voice, spreading out the thin, crackling sheets of foreign
+note-paper on his knee and arranging them in order.
+
+"You know Cyril Hands, the agent of the Palestine Exploring Fund?"
+
+"Yes, quite well by reputation," said Ommaney, "and I've met him once or
+twice. Very sound man."
+
+"These papers are from him. They seem to be of tremendous importance, of
+a significance that I can hardly grasp yet."
+
+"What is the nature of them?" asked the editor, rising from his chair,
+powerfully affected in his turn by Spence's manner.
+
+Harold put his hand up to his throat, pulling at his collar; the apple
+moved up and down convulsively.
+
+"The Tomb!" Spence gasped. "The Holy Tomb!"
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Ommaney. "Another supposed burial-place of
+Christ--like the _Times_ business, when they found the Gordon Tomb, and
+Canon MacColl wrote such a lot?"
+
+His face fell a little. This, though interesting enough, and fine "news
+copy," was less than he hoped.
+
+"No, no," cried Spence, getting his voice back at last and speaking like
+a man in acute physical pain. "_A new tomb has been found. There is an
+inscription in Greek, written by Joseph of Arimathaea, and there are
+other traces._"
+
+His voice failed him.
+
+"_Go on, man, go on!_" said the editor.
+
+"_The inscription--tells that Joseph--took the body of Jesus--from his
+own garden tomb--he hid it in this place--the disciples never knew--it
+is a confession_----"
+
+Ommaney was as white as Spence now.
+
+"_There are other contributory proofs_," Spence continued. "_Hands says
+it is certain. All the details are here, read_----"
+
+Ommaney stared fixedly at his lieutenant.
+
+"_Then, if this is true_," he whispered, "_it means?_----"
+
+"THAT CHRIST NEVER ROSE FROM THE DEAD, THAT CHRISTIANITY IS ALL A LIE."
+
+Spence slipped back in his chair a little and fainted.
+
+With the assistance of two men from one of the other rooms they brought
+him back to consciousness before very long. Then while Ommaney read the
+papers Spence sat nervously in his chair, sipping some brandy-and-water
+they had brought him and trying to smoke a cigarette with a palsied
+hand.
+
+The editor finished at last. "Pull yourself together, Spence," he said
+sharply. "This is no time for sentiment. I know your beliefs, though I
+do not share them, and I can sympathise with you. But keep yourself off
+all private thoughts now. We must be extremely careful what we are
+doing. Now listen carefully to me."
+
+The keen voice roused Spence. He made a tremendous effort at
+self-control.
+
+"It seems," Ommaney went on, "that we alone know of this discovery. The
+secretary of the Palestine Exploring Society will not receive the news
+for another week, Hands says. He seems stunned, and no wonder. In about
+a fortnight his detailed papers will probably be published. I see he has
+already telegraphed privately for Dr. Schmoeulder, the German expert. Of
+course you and I are hardly competent to judge of the value of this
+communication. To me--speaking as a layman--it seems extremely clear.
+But we must of course see a specialist before publishing anything. _If
+this news is true_--and I would give all I am worth if it were not,
+though I am no Christian--of course you realise that the future history
+of the world is changed? I hold in my hand something that will come to
+millions and millions of people as an utter extinction of hope and
+light. It's impossible to say what will happen. Moral law will be
+abrogated for a time. The whole moral fabric of Society will fall into
+ruin at once until it can adjust itself to the new state of things.
+There will be war all over the world; crime will cover England like a
+cloud----"
+
+His voice faltered as the terrible picture grew in his brain.
+
+Both of them felt that mere words were utterly unable to express the
+horrors which they saw dawning.
+
+"We don't know the truth yet," said Spence, at length.
+
+"No," answered Ommaney. "I am not going to speculate on it either. I am
+beginning to realise what we are dealing with. One man's brain cannot
+hold all this. So let me ask you to regard this matter _for the present_
+simply from the standpoint of the paper, and through it, of course, from
+the standpoint of public policy----"
+
+He broke off suddenly, for there was a knock at the door. A
+_commissionaire_ entered with a telegram. It was for Spence. He opened
+the envelope, read the contents with a groan, and passed it to the
+editor.
+
+The telegram was from Hands:
+
+     "Schmoeulder entirely confirms discovery, is communicating first
+     instance with Kaiser privately, fuller details in mail, confer
+     Ommaney, make statement to Secretary Society, use Wire medium
+     publicity, leave all to you, see Prime Minister, send out Llwellyn
+     behalf Government immediately, meanwhile suggest attitude suspended
+     decision, personally fear little doubt.--HANDS."
+
+"We must act at once," said Ommaney. "We have a fearful responsibility
+now. It's not too much to say that everything depends on us. Have you
+got any of that brandy left? My head throbs like an engine."
+
+A sub-editor who came in and was briefly dismissed told his colleagues
+that something was going on in the editor's room of an extraordinary
+nature. "The chief was actually drinking a peg, and his hand shook like
+a leaf."
+
+Ommaney drank the spirits--he was an absolute teetotaler as a rule,
+though not pledged in any way to abstinence--and it revived him.
+
+"Now let us try and think," he said, lighting a cigarette and walking up
+and down the room.
+
+Spence lit a cigarette also. As he did so he gave a sudden, sharp,
+unnatural chuckle. He was smoking when the Light of the World--the whole
+great world!--was flickering into darkness.
+
+Ommaney saw him and interpreted the thought. He pulled him up at once
+with a few sharp words, for he knew that Spence was close upon hysteria.
+
+"From a news point of view," he continued, "we hold all the cards. No
+one else knows what we know. I am certain that the German papers will
+publish nothing for a day or two. The Emperor will tell them nothing,
+and they can have no other source of information; so I gather from this
+telegram. Dr. Schmoeulder will not say anything until he has instructions
+from Potsdam. That means I need not publish anything in to-morrow's
+paper. It will relieve me of a great responsibility. We shall be first
+in the field, but I shall still have a few hours to consult with
+others."
+
+He pressed a bell on the table. "Tell Mr. Jones I wish to see him," he
+told the boy who answered the summons.
+
+A young man came in, the editor of the "personal" column.
+
+"Is the Prime Minister in town, Mr. Jones?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, sir; he's here for three more days."
+
+"I shall send a message now," said Ommaney, "asking for an interview in
+an hour's time. I know he will see me. He knows that I would not come at
+this hour unless the matter were of national importance. As you know, we
+are very much in the confidence of the Cabinet just now. I dare not wait
+till to-morrow." He rapidly wrote a note and sent for Mr. Folliott
+Farmer.
+
+The big-bearded man from Spence's room entered, smoking a briar pipe.
+
+"Mr. Farmer," said Ommaney, "I suppose you've done your leader?"
+
+"Sent it up-stairs ten minutes ago," said the big man.
+
+"Then I want you to do me a favour. The matter is so important that I do
+not like to trust any one else. I want you to drive to Downing Street at
+once as hard as you can go. Take this letter for Lord ----. It is making
+an appointment for me in an hour's time. He _must_ see it himself at
+once--take my card. One of the secretaries will try and put you off, of
+course. This is irregular, but it is of international importance. When I
+tell you this you will realise that Lord ---- _must_ see the note. Bring
+me back the answer as rapidly as you can."
+
+The elderly man--his name was a household word as a political writer all
+over England and the Continent--nodded without speaking, took the
+letter, and left the room. He knew Ommaney, and realised that if he made
+a messenger boy of him, Folliott Farmer, the matter was of supreme
+importance.
+
+"That is the only thing to do," said Ommaney. "No one else would be
+possible. The Archbishop would laugh. We must go to the real head. I
+only want to put myself on the safe side before publishing. If they
+meet me properly, then for the next few days we can control public
+opinion. If not, then it is my duty to publish, and if I'm not
+officially backed up there may be war in a week. Macedonia would be
+flaming, Turkish fanatics would embroil Europe. But that will be seen at
+once in Downing Street, unless I'm very much mistaken."
+
+"It's an awful, horrible risk we are running," said Spence. He was
+forgetting all personal impressions in the excitement of the work; the
+journalist was alive in him. "Hands's letter and diagrams seem so
+flawless; he has exhausted every means of disproving what he says; but
+still supposing that it is all untrue!"
+
+"I look at it this way," said Ommaney. "It's perfectly obvious, at any
+rate, that the discovery is of the first importance, regarded as news.
+Hands has the reputation of being a thoroughly safe man, and now he is
+supported by Schmoeulder. Schmoeulder is, of course, a man of world-wide
+reputation. As these two are certain, even if later opinion or discovery
+proves the thing to be untrue, the paper can't suffer. Our attitude
+will, of course, be non-committal, until certainty one way or the other
+comes. At any rate, it seems to me that you have brought in the greatest
+newspaper 'scoop' that has ever been known or thought of. For my part, I
+have little doubt of the truth of this. Can't go into it now, but it
+seems so very, very probable. It _explains_, and even _corroborates_,
+and that's the wonderful thing, so much of the Gospel narrative. We
+shall see what Llwellyn says. I've more to go into, but, meanwhile, I
+must make arrangements for setting up Hands's papers. Then there are the
+inscriptions, too. Of course they must be reproduced in facsimile. As we
+can't print in half-tone, I must have the photograph turned into an
+absolutely correct line drawing, and have line blocks made. I shall
+have pulls of the whole thing prepared and sent by post to-morrow at
+midnight to the editors of all the dailies in London and Paris, and to
+the heads of the Churches. I shall also prepare a statement, showing
+exactly how the documents have come into our possession and what steps
+we are taking. I shall write the thing to-night, after I have seen the
+Prime Minister."
+
+He went to his writing-table once more, moved the telephone indicator,
+and summoned the foreman printer.
+
+In a few moments a lean Scotchman in his shirt sleeves--one of the most
+autocratic and important people connected with the paper--came into the
+room.
+
+"I want an absolutely reliable linotype operator, Burness," said
+Ommaney. "He will have to set up some special copy for me after the
+paper's gone to press. It'll take him till breakfast-time. I want a man
+who will not talk. The thing is private and important. And it must be a
+man who can set up from the Greek font by hand also. There are some
+quotations in Greek included in the text."
+
+"Well, sirr," said the man, with a strong Scotch accent, "I can find ye
+a guid operrator to stay till morning, but aboot his silence--if it's of
+great moment--I wouldn't say, and aboot his aptitude for setting up
+Greek type I hae nae doot whatever. There's no a lino operrator in the
+building wha can do it. Some of the men at the case might, but that'll
+be keeping two men. Is it verra important, Mr. Ommaney?"
+
+"More important than anything I have ever dealt with."
+
+"Then ye'll please jist give the copy into my own hands, sirr. I'll do
+the lino and the case warrk mysel' and pull a galley proof for ye too.
+No one shall see the copy but me."
+
+"Thank you, Burness," said the editor. "I'm very much obliged. I shall
+be here till morning. I shall go out in an hour and be back by the time
+the machines are running down-stairs. Then the composing-room will be
+empty and you can get to work."
+
+"I'll start directly the plates have gone down to the foundry and the
+men are off, just keeping one hand to see to the gas-engine."
+
+"And, Burness, lock up the galley safely when you come down with the
+proof."
+
+"I'll do it, sir," and the great man--indispensable, and earning his six
+hundred a year--went away with the precious papers.
+
+"That is perfectly safe with Burness," said Spence, as the foreman
+compositor retired. "He will make no mistakes either. He is a capital
+Greek scholar, corrects the proof-readers themselves often."
+
+"Yes," answered Ommaney, "I know. I shall leave everything in his hands.
+Then late to-morrow night, just before the forms go to the foundry, I
+shall shove the whole thing in before any one knows anything about it,
+and nothing can get round to any other office. Burness will know about
+it beforehand, and he'll be ready to break up a whole page for this
+stuff. Of course, as far as leaders go and comment, I shall be guided
+very much by the result of my interview to-night and others to-morrow
+morning. I shall send off several cables before dawn to Palestine and
+elsewhere."
+
+Once more the editor began to pace up and down the room, thinking
+rapidly, decisively, deeply. The slim, fragile body was informed with
+power by the splendid brain which animated it.
+
+The rather languid, silent man was utterly changed. Here one could see
+the strength and force of the personality which directed and controlled
+the second, perhaps the first, most powerful engine of public opinion in
+the world. The millionaires who paid this frail-looking, youthful man
+an enormous sum to direct their paper for them knew what they were
+about. They had bought one of the finest living executive brains and
+made it a potentate among its fellows. This man who, when he was not at
+the office, or holding some hurried colloquy with one of the rulers of
+the world, was asleep in a solitary flat at Kensington, knew that he had
+an accepted right to send a message to Downing Street, such as he had
+lately done. No one knew his face--no one of the great outside public;
+his was hardly even a name to be recognised in passing, yet he, and
+Spence, and Folliott Farmer could shake a continent with their words.
+And though all knew it, or would at least have realised it had they ever
+given it a thought, the absolute self-effacement of journalism made it a
+matter of no moment to any of them.
+
+While Englishmen read their dicta, and unconsciously incorporated them
+into their own pronouncements, mouthing them in street, market, and
+forum, these men slept till the busy day was over, and once more with
+the setting of the sun stole out to their almost furtive and yet
+tremendous task.
+
+Every now and then Ommaney strode to the writing-table and made a rapid
+note on a sheet of paper.
+
+At last he turned to Spence.
+
+"I am beginning to have our line of action well marked out in my brain,"
+he said. "The thing is grouping itself very well. I am beginning to see
+my way. Now about you, Spence. Of course this thing is yours. At any
+rate you brought it here. Later on, of course, we shall show our
+gratitude in some substantial way. That will depend upon the upshot of
+the whole thing. Meanwhile, you will be quite wasted in London. I and
+Farmer and Wilson can deal with anything and everything here. Of course
+I would rather have you on the spot, but I can use you far better
+elsewhere."
+
+"Then?" said Spence.
+
+"You must go to Jerusalem at once. Start for Paris to-morrow morning at
+nine; you'd better go round to your chambers and pack up now and then
+come back here till it's time to start. You can sleep _en route_. I
+shall be here till breakfast-time, and I can give you final
+instructions."
+
+He used the telephone once more and his secretary came in.
+
+"Mr. Spence starts for Palestine to-morrow morning, Marriott," he said.
+"He is going straight through to Jerusalem as fast as may be. Oblige me
+by getting out a route for him at once, marking all the times for
+steamers and trains, etc., in a clear scheme for Mr. Spence to take with
+him. Be very careful with the Continental timetables indeed. If you can
+see any delay anywhere which will be likely to occur, go down to Cook's
+early in the morning and make full inquiries. If it is necessary,
+arrange for any special trains that may be necessary. Mr. Spence must
+not be delayed a day. Also map out various points on the journey, with
+the proper times, where we can telegraph instructions to Mr. Spence. Go
+down to Mr. Woolford and ask him for a hundred pounds in notes and give
+them to Mr. Spence. You will arrange about the usual letter of credit
+during the day and wire Mr. Spence at Paris after lunch."
+
+The young man went out to do his part in the great organisation which
+Ommaney controlled.
+
+"Then you'll be back between three and four?" Ommaney said.
+
+"Yes, I'll go and pack at once," Spence answered. "My passport from the
+Foreign Office is all right now."
+
+He rose to go, vigorous, and with an inexpressible sense of relief at
+the active prospect before him. There would be no time for haunting
+thought, for personal fears yet. He was going, himself, to the very
+heart of things, to see and to gain personal knowledge of these events
+which were shadowing the world.
+
+The door opened as he rose and Folliott Farmer strode in. With him was a
+tall, distinguished man of about five-and-thirty; he was in evening
+dress and rather bald.
+
+It was Lord Trelyon, the Prime Minister's private secretary.
+
+"I thought I would come myself with Mr. Farmer, Mr. Ommaney," he said,
+shaking hands cordially. "Lord ---- will see you. He tells me to say
+that if it is absolutely imperative he will see you. I suppose there is
+no doubt of that?"
+
+"None whatever, I'm sorry to say, Lord Trelyon," the editor answered.
+"Farmer, will you take charge till I return?"
+
+He slipped on his overcoat and a felt hat and left the room with the
+secretary without looking back. Spence followed the two down the
+stairs--the tall, athletic young fellow and the slim, nervous
+journalist. These were just driving furiously towards the Law Courts as
+Spence turned into Fleet Street on his way to Lincoln's Inn.
+
+Fleet Street was brilliantly lit and almost silent. A few cabs hovered
+about and that was all. Presently all the air would be filled with the
+dull roar and hum of the great printing machines in their underground
+halls, but the press hour was hardly yet.
+
+The porter let him into the Inn, and in a few moments he was striking
+matches and lighting the gas. Mrs. Buscall had cleared away the
+breakfast things, but the fire had long since gone out. The big rooms
+looked very bare and solitary, unfamiliar almost, as the gas-jets hissed
+in the silence.
+
+One or two letters were in the box. One envelope bore the Manchester
+post-mark. It was from Basil Gortre. A curious pang, half wonder and
+anticipation, half fear, passed through his mind as he saw the familiar
+handwriting of his friend. But it was a pang for Gortre, not for
+himself. He himself was wholly detached now that the time for action had
+arrived. Personal consideration would come later. At present he was
+starting out on the old trail--"The old trail, the long trail, the trail
+that is always new."
+
+He felt a _man_ again, with a fierce joy and exultation throbbing in all
+his veins after the torpor of the last few weeks.
+
+He sat down at the table, first getting some bread and cheese from a
+cupboard, for he was hungry, and opening a bottle of beer. The beer
+tasted wonderfully good. He laughed exultingly in the flow of his high
+spirits.
+
+He wrote a note to Mrs. Buscall, long since inured to these sudden
+midnight departures, and another to Gortre. To him he said that some
+great and momentous discoveries were made at Jerusalem by Hands, and
+that he himself was starting at once for the Holy City as special
+correspondent for the _Wire_. He would write _en route_, he explained,
+there was no time for any details now.
+
+"Poor chap," he said to himself, "he'll know soon enough now. I hope he
+won't take it very badly."
+
+Then he went into his bedroom and hauled down the great pig-skin
+kit-bag, covered with foreign labels, which had accompanied him half
+over the world.
+
+He packed quickly and completely, the result of long practice. The pads
+of paper, the stylographic pens, with the special ink for hot countries
+which would not dry up or corrode, his revolvers, riding-breeches, boots
+and spurs, the kodak, with spare films and light-tight zinc cases, the
+old sun helmet--he forgot nothing.
+
+When he had finished, and the big bag, with a small Gladstone also, was
+strapped and locked, he changed joyously from the black coat of cities
+into his travelling tweeds of tough cloth. At length everything seemed
+prepared. He sat on the bed and looked round him, willing to be gone.
+
+His eye fell on the opposite wall. A crucifix hung there, carved in
+ebony and ivory. During his short holiday at Dieppe, nearly nine months
+ago now, he had gone into the famous little shop there where carved work
+of all kinds is sold. Basil and Helena were with him and they had all
+bought mementoes. Helena had given him that.
+
+And as he looked at it now he wondered what his journey would bring
+forth. Was he, indeed, chosen out of men to go to this far country to
+tear Christ from that awful and holy eminence of the Cross? Was it to be
+his mission to extinguish the _Lux Mundi_?
+
+As he gazed at the sacred emblem he felt that this could not be.
+
+No, no! a thousand times no. Jesus _had_ risen to save him and all other
+sinners. It _was_ so, must be so, should be so.
+
+The Holy Name was in itself enough. He whispered it to himself. No,
+_that_ was eternally, gloriously true.
+
+Humbly, faithfully, gladly he knelt among the litter of the room and
+said the Lord's Prayer, said it in Latin as he had said it at school--
+
+    _Pater noster!_
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+AVOIDING THE FLOWER PATTERN ON THE CARPET
+
+
+Sir Michael Manichoe, the stay and pillar of "Anglicanism" in the
+English Church, was a man of great natural gifts. The owner of one of
+those colossal Jewish fortunes which, few as they are, have such
+far-reaching influence upon English life, he employed it in a way which,
+for a man in his position, was unique.
+
+He presented the curious spectacle, to sociologists and the world at
+large, of a Jew by origin who had become a Christian by conviction and
+one of the sincerest sons of the English Church as he understood it. In
+political life Sir Michael was a steady, rather than a brilliant, force.
+He had been Home Secretary under a former Conservative administration,
+but had retired from office. At the present moment he was a private
+member for the division in which his country house, Fencastle, stood,
+and he enjoyed the confidence of the chiefs of his party.
+
+His great talent was for organisation, and all his powers in that
+direction were devoted towards the preservation and unification of the
+Church to which he was a convert.
+
+Sir Michael's convictions were perfectly clear and straightforward. He
+believed, with all his heart, in the Catholicity of the Anglican
+persuasion. Roman priests he spoke of as "members of the Italian
+mission"; Nonconformists as "adherents to the lawless bands of Dissent."
+He allowed the validity of Roman orders and spoke of the Pope as the
+"Bishop of Rome," an Italian ecclesiastic with whom the English
+communion had little or nothing to do.
+
+In his intimate and private life Sir Michael lived according to rubric.
+His splendid private chapel at Fencastle enjoyed the services of a
+chaplain, reinforced by priests from a community of Anglican monks which
+Sir Michael had established in an adjacent village. In London, St.
+Mary's was, in some sense, his particular property. He spent fabulous
+sums on the big Bloomsbury Parish and the needs of its great,
+cathedral-like church. There was no vicar in London who enjoyed the
+command of money that Father Ripon enjoyed. Certainly there was no other
+priest in the ranks of the High Churchmen who was the confidential
+friend and spiritual director of so powerful a political and social
+personality.
+
+Yet in his public life Sir Michael was diplomatic enough. He worked
+steadily for one thing, it is true, but he was far too able to allow
+people to call him narrow-minded. The Oriental strain of cunning in his
+blood had sweetened to a wise diplomacy. While he always remembered he
+was a Churchman, he did not forget that to be an effective and helpful
+one he must keep his political and social eminence. And so, whatever
+might take place behind the scenes in the library with Father Ripon, or
+in the Bloomsbury clergy house, the baronet showed the world the face of
+a man of the world, and neither obtruded his private views nor allowed
+them to disturb his colleagues.
+
+The day after the news arrived in Fleet Street from Palestine--while
+nothing was yet known and Harold Spence was rushing through Amiens _en
+route_ for Paris and the East--a house party began to collect at
+Fencastle, the great place in Lincolnshire.
+
+For a day or two a few rather important people were to meet under Sir
+Michael's roof. Now and then the palace in the fen lands was the scene
+of notable gatherings, much talked of in certain circles and commented
+on by people who would truthfully have described themselves as being "in
+the know."
+
+These parties were, indeed, congresses of the eminent, the "big" people
+who quietly control an England which the ignorant and the vulgar love to
+imagine is in the hands of a corrupt society of well-born, "smart," and
+pleasure-seeking people.
+
+The folk who gathered at Fencastle were as remote from the gambling,
+lecherous, rabbit-brained set which glitters so brightly before the eyes
+of the uninformed as any staid, middle-class reader of the popular
+journals.
+
+In this stronghold of English Catholicism--"hot-bed of ritualists" as
+the brawling "Protestant" journals called it, one met a diversity of
+people, widely divided in views and only alike in one thing--the
+dominant quality of their brains and position.
+
+Sir Michael thought it well that even his professed opponents should
+meet at his table, for it gave both him and his lieutenants new data and
+fresh impressions for use in the campaign. Sir Michael's convictions
+were perfectly unalterable, but to find out how others--and those
+hostile--really regarded them only added to the weapons in his armoury.
+
+And, as one London priest once remarked to another, the combination of a
+Jewish brain and a Christian heart was one which had already
+revolutionised Society nearly two thousand years ago in the persons of
+eleven distinguished instances.
+
+As Father Ripon drove to Liverpool Street Station after lunch, to catch
+the afternoon train to the eastern counties, he was reading a letter as
+his cab turned into Cheapside and crawled slowly through the heavy
+afternoon traffic of the city.
+
+     " ... It will be as well for you to see the man _a huisclos_ and
+     form your own opinions. There can be no doubt that he is a force to
+     be reckoned with, and he is, moreover, as I think you will agree
+     after inspection, far more brilliant and able than any other
+     _professed_ antichristian of the front rank. Then there will also
+     be Mrs. Hubert Armstrong. She is a pseudo-intellectual force, but
+     her writings have a certain heaviness and authoritative note which
+     I believe to have real influence with the large class of
+     semi-educated people who mistake an _atmosphere_ of knowledge for
+     knowledge itself. A very charming woman, by the way, and I think
+     sincere. Matthew Arnold and water!
+
+     "The Duke of Suffolk will stop a night on his way home. He writes
+     that he wishes to see you. As you know, he is just back from Rome,
+     and now that they have definitely pronounced against the validity
+     of Anglican orders he is most anxious to have a further chat with
+     you in order to form a working opinion as to _our_ position. From
+     his letter to me, and the extremely interesting account he gives of
+     his interview at the Vatican, I gather that the Roman Church still
+     utterly misunderstands our attitude, and that hopes there are high
+     of the ultimate "conversion" of England. I hope that as a
+     representative of English Churchmen you will be able to define what
+     we think in an unmistakable way. This will have value. Among my
+     other guests you will meet Canon Walke. He is preaching in Lincoln
+     Cathedral on the Sunday, fresh from Windsor. "Render unto Caesar"
+     will, I allow myself to imagine, not be an unlikely text for his
+     homily.--I am, Father, yours most sincerely,
+
+          "M. M."
+
+Still thinking carefully over Sir Michael's letter, Father Ripon bought
+his ticket and made his way to the platform.
+
+He got into a first-class carriage. While in London the priest lived a
+life of asceticism and simplicity which was not so much a considered
+thing as the outcome of an absolute and unconscious carelessness about
+personal and material comfort; when he went thus to a great country
+house, he complied with convention because it was politic.
+
+He was the grandson of a peer, and, though he laughed at these small
+points, he wished to meet his friend's opinions in any reasonable way,
+rather than to flout them.
+
+The carriage was empty, though a pile of newspapers and a travelling rug
+in one corner showed Father Ripon that he was to have one companion at
+any rate upon the journey.
+
+He had bought the _Church Times_ at the bookstall and was soon deeply
+immersed in the report of a Bampton Lecture delivered during the week at
+the University Church in Oxford.
+
+Some one entered the carriage, the door was shut, and the train began to
+move out of the station, but he was too interested to look up to see who
+his companion might be.
+
+A voice broke in upon his thoughts as they were tearing through the
+wide-spread slums of Bethnal Green.
+
+"Do you mind if I smoke, sir? This isn't a smoking carriage, but we are
+alone----"
+
+It was an ordinary query enough. "Oh, dear, no!" said the priest.
+"Please do, to your heart's content. It doesn't inconvenience _me_."
+
+Father Ripon's quick, breezy manner seemed to interest the stranger. He
+looked up and saw a personality. Obviously this clergyman was some one
+of note. The heavy brows, the hawk-like nose, the large, firm, and yet
+kindly mouth, all these seemed familiar in some vague way.
+
+For his part, Father Ripon experienced much the same sensation as he
+glanced at the tall stranger. His hair, which could be seen beneath his
+ordinary hard felt hat, was dark red and somewhat abundant. His features
+were Semitic, but without a trace of that fulness, and often coarseness,
+which sometimes marks the Jew who has come to the period of middle life.
+The large black eyes were neither dull nor lifeless, but simply cold,
+irresponsive, and alert. A massive jaw completed an impression which was
+remarkable in its fineness and almost sinister beauty.
+
+The priest found it remarkable but with no sense of strangeness. He had
+seen the man before.
+
+Recognition came to Schuabe first.
+
+"Excuse me," he said, "but surely you are Father Ripon? I am Constantine
+Schuabe."
+
+Ripon gave a merry chuckle. "I knew I knew you!" he said, "but I
+couldn't think quite who you were for a moment. Sir Michael tells me
+you're going to Fencastle; so am I."
+
+Schuabe leaned back in his seat and regarded Father Ripon with a steady
+and calm scrutiny, somewhat with the manner of a naturalist examining a
+curious specimen, with a suggestion of aloofness in his eyes.
+
+Suddenly Father Ripon smiled rather sternly, and the deep furrows which
+sprang into his cheeks showed the latent strength and power of the face.
+
+"Well, Mr. Schuabe," he said abruptly, "the train doesn't stop anywhere
+for an hour, so willy-nilly you're locked up with a priest!"
+
+"A welcome opportunity, Father Ripon, to convince one that perhaps the
+devil isn't as black as he's painted."
+
+"I've read your books," said Ripon, "and I believe you are sincere, Mr.
+Schuabe. It's not a personal question at all. At the same time, if I had
+the power, you know I should cheerfully execute you or imprison you for
+life, not out of revenge for what you have done, but as a precautionary
+measure. You should have no further opportunity of doing harm." He
+smiled grimly as he spoke.
+
+"Rather severe, Father," said Schuabe laughing. "Because I find that in
+a rational view of history there is no place for a Resurrection and
+Ascension you would give me your blessing and an _auto da fe_!"
+
+"I rather believe in stern measures, sometimes," answered the clergyman,
+with an underlying seriousness, though he spoke half in jest. "Not for
+_all_ heretics, you know--only the dangerous ones."
+
+"You are afraid of _intellect_ when it is brought to bear on these
+questions."
+
+"I thought that would be your rejoinder. Superficially it is a very
+telling one, because there is nothing so insidious as a half-truth. In a
+sense what you say is true. There are a great many Christians whose
+faith is weak and whose natural inclinations, assisted by supernatural
+temptations, are towards a life of sin. Christianity keeps them from it.
+Now, your books come in the way of such people as these far more readily
+and easily than works of Christian apologetics written with equal power.
+An _attack_ upon our position has all the elements of popularity and
+novelty. _It is more seen._ For example, ten thousand people have heard
+of your _Christ Reconceived_ for every ten who know Lathom's _Risen
+Master_. You have said the last word for agnosticism and made it widely
+public, the Master of Trinity Hall has said the last word for
+Christianity and only scholars know of it. It isn't the strength of your
+case which makes you dangerous, it's the ignorance of the public and a
+condition of affairs which makes it possible for you to shout loudest."
+
+"Well, there is at least a half-truth in what you say also, Mr. Ripon,"
+said Schuabe. "But you don't seem to have brought anything to eat. Will
+you share my luncheon basket? There is quite enough for two people."
+
+Father Ripon had been called away after the early Eucharist, and had
+quite forgotten to have any breakfast.
+
+"Thank you very much," he said; "I will. I suddenly seem to be hungry,
+and after all there is scriptural precedent for spoiling the Egyptians!"
+
+Both laughed again, sheathed their weapons, and began to eat.
+
+Each of them was a man of the world, cultured, with a charming
+personality. Each knew the other was impervious to attack.
+
+Only once, as the short afternoon was darkening and they were
+approaching their destination, did Schuabe refer to controversial
+subjects. The carriage was shadowed and dusky as they rushed through the
+desolate fenlands. The millionaire lit a match for a cigarette, and the
+sudden flare showed the priest's face, set and stern. He seemed to be
+thinking deeply.
+
+"What would you say or do, Father Ripon," Schuabe asked, in a tone of
+interested curiosity,--"What would you do if some stupendous thing were
+to happen, something to occur which proved without doubt that Christ was
+not divine? Supposing that it suddenly became an absolute fact, a
+historical fact which every one must accept?"
+
+"Some new discovery, you mean?"
+
+"Well, if you like; never mind the actual means. Assume for a moment
+that it became certain as an historical fact that the Resurrection did
+not take place. I say that the ignorant love of Christ's followers
+wreathed His life in legend, that the true story was from the beginning
+obscured by error, hysteria, and mistake. Supposing something proved
+what I say in such a way as to leave no loophole for denial. What would
+you do? As a representative Churchman, what would you do? This interests
+me."
+
+"Well, you are assuming an impossibility, and I can't argue on such a
+postulate. But, if for a moment what you say _could_ happen, I might not
+be able to deny these proofs, but I should never believe them."
+
+"But surely----"
+
+"Christ is _within_; I have found Him myself without possibility of
+mistake; day and night I am in communion with Him."
+
+"Ah!" said Schuabe, dryly, "there is no convincing a person who takes
+_that_ attitude. But it is rare."
+
+"Faith is weak in the world," said the priest, with a sigh, as the train
+drew up in the little wayside station.
+
+A footman took their luggage to a carriage which was waiting, and they
+drove off rapidly through the twilight, over the bare brown fen with a
+chill leaden sky meeting it on the horizon, towards Fencastle.
+
+Sir Michael's house was an immemorial feature of those parts. Josiah
+Manichoe, his father, had bought it from old Lord Lostorich. To this day
+Sir Michael paid two pounds each year, as "Knight's fee," to the lord of
+the manor at Denton, a fee first paid in 1236. As it stood now, the
+house was Tudor in exterior, covering a vast area with its stately,
+explicit, and yet homelike, rather than "homely," beauty.
+
+The interior of the house was treated with great judgment and artistic
+ability. A successful effort had been made to combine the greatest
+measure of modern comfort without unduly disturbing the essential
+character of the place. Thus Father Ripon found himself in an ancient
+bedroom with a painted ceiling and panelled walls. The furniture was in
+keeping with the design, but electric lamps had been fitted to the
+massive pewter sconces on the wall, and the towel-rail by the
+washing-stand was made of copper tubing through which hot water passed
+constantly.
+
+The dinner-gong boomed at eight and Ripon went down into the great hall,
+where a group of people were standing round an open fire of peat and
+coal.
+
+Mrs. Bardilly, a widowed sister of Sir Michael's, acted as hostess, a
+quiet, matronly woman, very Jewish in aspect, shrewd and placid in
+temper, an admirable _chatelaine_.
+
+Talking to her was Mrs. Hubert Armstrong, the famous woman novelist.
+Mrs. Armstrong was tall and grandly built. Her grey hair was drawn over
+a massive, manlike brow in smooth folds, her face was finely chiselled.
+The mouth was large, rather sweet in expression, but with a slight
+hinting of "superiority" in repose and condescension in movement. When
+she spoke, always in full, well-chosen periods, it was with an air of
+somewhat final pronouncement. She was ever _ex cathedra_.
+
+The lady's position was a great one. Every two or three years she
+published a weighty novel, admirably written, full of real culture, and
+without a trace of humour. In those productions, treatises rather than
+novels, the theme was generally that of a high-bred philosophical
+negation of the Incarnation. Mrs. Armstrong pitied Christians with
+passionate certainty. Gently and lovingly she essayed to open blinded
+eyes to the truth. With great condescension she still believed in God
+and preached Christ as a mighty teacher.
+
+One of her utterances suffices to show the colossal arrogance--almost
+laughable were it not so _bizarre_--of her intellect:
+
+     "_The world has expanded since Jesus preached in the dim ancient
+     cities of the East. Men and women of to-day cannot learn the_
+     complete _lesson of God from him now--indeed they could not in
+     those old times. But all that is most necessary in forming
+     character, all that makes for pureness and clarity of soul--this
+     Jesus has still for us as he had for the people of his own time._"
+
+After the enormous success of her book, _John Mulgrave_, Mrs. Armstrong
+more than half believed she had struck a final blow at the errors of
+Christianity.
+
+Shrewd critics remarked that _John Mulgrave_ described the perversion of
+the hero with great skill and literary power, while quite forgetting to
+recapitulate the arguments which had brought it about.
+
+The woman was really educated, but her success was with half-educated
+readers. Her works excited to a sort of frenzy clergymen who realised
+their insidious hollowness. Her success was real; her influence appeared
+to be real also. It was a deplorable fact that she swayed fools.
+
+By laying on the paint very thick and using bright colours, Mrs.
+Armstrong caught the class immediately below that which read the works
+of Constantine Schuabe. They were captain and lieutenant, formidable in
+coalition.
+
+A short, carelessly dressed man--his evening tie was badly arranged and
+his trousers were ill cut--was the Duke of Suffolk. His face was covered
+with dust-coloured hair, his eyes bright and restless. The Duke was the
+greatest Roman Catholic nobleman in England. His vast wealth and eager,
+though not first-class, brain were devoted entirely to the conversion of
+the country. He was beloved by men of all creeds.
+
+Canon Walke, the great popular preacher, was a handsome man, portly,
+large, and gracious in manner. He was destined for high preferment, a
+_persona grata_ at Court, suave and redolent of the lofty circles in
+which he moved.
+
+Canon Walke was talking to Schuabe with great animation and a sort of
+purring geniality.
+
+Dinner was a very pleasant meal. Every one talked well. Great events in
+Society and politics were discussed by the people who were themselves
+responsible for them.
+
+Here was the inner circle itself, serene, bland, and guarded from the
+crowd outside. And perhaps, with the single exception of Father Ripon,
+who never thought about it at all, every one was pleasantly conscious of
+pulling the strings. They sat, Jove-like, kindly tolerant of lesser
+mortals, discussing, over a dessert, what they should do for the world.
+
+At eleven nearly every one had retired for the night. Father Ripon and
+his host sat talking in the library for another hour discussing church
+matters. At twelve these two also retired.
+
+And now the great house was silent save for the bitter winter wind which
+sobbed and moaned round the towers.
+
+It was the eve of the twelfth of December. The world was as usual and
+the night came to England with no hintings of the morrow.
+
+Far away in Lancashire, Basil Gortre was sleeping calmly after a long,
+quiet evening with Helena and her father.
+
+Father Ripon had said his prayers and lay half dreaming in bed, watching
+the firelight glows and shadows on the panelling and listening to the
+fierce outside wind as if it were a lullaby.
+
+Mrs. Hubert Armstrong was touching up an article for the _Nineteenth
+Century_ in her bedroom. An open volume of Renan stood by her side; here
+and there the lady deftly paraphrased a few lines. Occasionally she
+sipped a cup of black-currant tea--an amiable weakness of this paragon
+when engaged upon her stirring labours.
+
+In the next room Schuabe, with haggard face and twitching lips, paced
+rapidly up and down. From the door to the dressing-table--seven steps.
+From there to the fireplace--ten steps--avoiding the flower pattern of
+the carpet, stepping only on the blue squares. Seven! ten! and then back
+again.
+
+Ten, seven, turn. A cold, soft dew came out upon his face, dried,
+hardened, and burst forth again.
+
+Seven, ten, stop for a glass of water, and then on again, rapidly,
+hurriedly; the dawn is coming very near.
+
+Ten! seven! turn!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+"I, JOSEPH"
+
+
+At about nine o'clock the next morning there was a knock at Father
+Ripon's door and Lindner, Sir Michael's confidential man, entered.
+
+He seemed slightly agitated.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Father," he said, "but Sir Michael instructed me to
+come to you at once. Sir Michael begs that you will read the columns
+marked in this paper and then join him at once in his own room."
+
+The man bowed slightly and went noiselessly away.
+
+Impressed with Lindner's manner, Father Ripon sat up in bed and opened
+the paper. It was a copy of the _Daily Wire_ which had just arrived by
+special messenger from the station.
+
+The priest's eyes fell first upon the news summary. A paragraph was
+heavily scored round with ink.
+
+     "_Page 7._--A communication of the utmost gravity and importance
+     reaches us from Palestine, dealing with certain discoveries at
+     Jerusalem, made by Mr. Cyril Hands, the agent of the Palestine
+     Exploring Fund, and Herr Schmoeulder, the famous German historian."
+
+Ripon turned hastily to the seventh page of the paper, where all the
+foreign telegrams were. This is what he read:
+
+     "NOTE
+
+     "_In reference to the following statements, the Editor wishes it to
+     be distinctly understood that he prints them without comment or
+     bias. Nothing can yet be definitely known as to the truth of what
+     is stated here until the strictest investigations have been made.
+     Our special Commissioner left London for the East twenty-four hours
+     ago. The Editor of this paper is in communication with the Prime
+     Minister and His Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury. A special
+     edition of the 'Daily Wire' will be published at two o'clock this
+     afternoon._
+
+     "MOMENTOUS NEWS FROM JERUSALEM
+
+     "For the last three months, under a new firman granted by the
+     Turkish Government, the authorities of the Palestine Exploring
+     Society have been engaged in extensive operations in the waste
+     ground beyond the Damascus Gate at Jerusalem.
+
+     "It is in this quarter, as archaeologists and students will be
+     aware, that some years ago the reputed site of Calvary and the Holy
+     Sepulchre was placed. Considerable discussion was raised at the
+     time and the evidence for and against the new and the traditional
+     sites was hotly debated.
+
+     "Ten days ago, Mr. Cyril Hands, M.A., the learned and trusted
+     English explorer, made a further discovery which may prove to be
+     far-reaching in its influence on Christian peoples.
+
+     "During the excavations a system of tombs were discovered, dating
+     from forty or fifty years before Christ, according to Mr. Hands's
+     estimate. The tombs are indisputably Jewish and not Christian, a
+     fact which is proved by the presence of _kokim_, characteristic of
+     Jewish tombs in preference to the usual Christian _arcosolia_. They
+     are Herodian in character.
+
+     "These tombs consist of an irregularly cut group of two chambers.
+     The door is coarsely moulded. Both chambers are crooked, and in
+     their floors are four-sided depressions, 1 foot 2 inches deep in
+     the outer, 2 feet in the inner chamber. The roof of the outer
+     chamber is 6 feet above its floor, that of the inner 5 feet 2
+     inches.
+
+     "The doorway leading to the inner tomb was built up into stone
+     blocks. Fragments of that coating of broken brick and pounded
+     pottery, which is still used in Palestine under the name _hamra_,
+     which lay at the foot of the sealed entrance, showed that it had at
+     one time been plastered over, and was in the nature of a secret
+     room.
+
+     "In the depression in the floor of the outer room was found a
+     minute fragment of a glass receptacle containing a small quantity
+     of blackish powder. This has been analysed by M. Constant Allard,
+     the French chemist. The glass vessel he found to be an ordinary
+     silicate which had become devitrified and coloured by oxide of
+     iron. The contents were finely divided lead and traces of antimony,
+     showing it to be one of the cosmetics prepared for purposes of
+     sepulture.
+
+     "When the interior of the second tomb had been reached, a single
+     _loculus_ or stone slab for the reception of a body was found.
+
+     "Over the _loculus_ the following Greek inscription in uncial
+     characters was found in a state of good preservation, with the
+     exception of two letters:
+
+     "[_See drawing of inscription on this page, made from photographs
+     in our possession. We print the inscription below in cursive Greek
+     text, afterwards dividing it into its component words and giving
+     its translation.--Editor, Daily Wire._]
+
+
+     FACSIMILE IN MODERN GREEK SCRIPT
+
+     =Egoiosephoapoarimatheiaslabo
+     ntosomatouiesoutouapona**
+     retapotoumnemeiouopoutoprot
+     onekeitoentotopotoutoenekrypsa=
+
+     **=lacunae of two letters.
+
+
+     FINAL READING OF THE INSCRIPTION
+
+     =Ego Ioseph ho apo Arimatheias labon to soma tou Iesou
+     tou apo Na[za]ret apo tou mnemeiou hopou to proton
+     ekeito en to topo touto enekrypsa=
+
+     [] = letters supplied.
+
+
+     "TRANSLATION INTO ENGLISH OF THE INSCRIPTION
+
+     "I, JOSEPH OF ARIMATHAEA, TOOK THE BODY OF
+     JESUS, THE NAZARENE, FROM THE TOMB WHERE IT
+     WAS FIRST LAID AND HID IT IN THIS PLACE.
+
+
+     "The slight mould on the stone slab, which may or may not be that
+     of a decomposed body, has been reverently gathered into a sealed
+     vessel by Mr. Hands, who is waiting instructions.
+
+     "Dr. Schmoeulder, the famous _savant_ from Berlin, has arrived at
+     Jerusalem, and is in communication with the German Emperor
+     regarding the discovery.
+
+     "At present it would be presumptuous and idle to comment upon these
+     stupendous facts. It seems our duty, however, to quote a final
+     passage from Mr. Hands's communication, and to state that we have a
+     cablegram in our possession from Dr. Schmoeulder, which states that
+     he is in entire agreement with Mr. Hands's conclusions.
+
+     "To sum up. There now seems no shadow of doubt that the
+     disappearance of The Body of Christ from the first tomb is
+     accounted for, and that the Resurrection as told in the Gospels did
+     not take place. Joseph of Arimathaea here confesses that he stole
+     away the body, probably in order to spare the Disciples and friends
+     of the dead Teacher, with whom he was in sympathy, the shame and
+     misery of the final end to their hopes.
+
+     "The use of the first aorist '=enekrypsa=,' 'I hid,' seems to
+     indicate that Joseph was making a confession to satisfy his own
+     mind, with a very vague idea of it ever being read. Were his
+     confession written for future ages, we may surmise that the perfect
+     '=kekrypha=,' 'I have hidden,' would have been used."
+
+So the simple, bald narrative ended, without a single attempt at
+sensationalism on the part of the newspaper.
+
+Just as Father Ripon laid down the newspaper, with shaking hands and a
+pallid face, Sir Michael Manichoe strode into the room.
+
+Tears of anger and shame were in his eyes, he moved jerkily,
+automatically, without volition. His right arm was sawing the air in
+meaningless gesticulation.
+
+He glanced furtively at Father Ripon and then sank into a chair by the
+bedside.
+
+The clergyman rose and dressed hastily. "We will speak of this in the
+library," he said, controlling himself by a tremendous effort.
+"Meanwhile----"
+
+He took some sal volatile from his dressing-case, gave some to his host,
+and drank some also.
+
+As they went down-stairs a brilliant sun streamed into the great hall.
+The world outside was bright and frost-bound.
+
+The bell of the private chapel was tolling for matins.
+
+The sound struck on both their brains very strangely. Sir Michael
+shuddered and grew ashen grey. Ripon recovered himself first.
+
+He placed his arm in his host's and turned towards the passage which led
+to the chapel.
+
+"Come, my friend," he said in low, sweet tones, "come to the altar. Let
+us pray together for Christendom. Peace waits us. Say the creed with me,
+for God will not desert us."
+
+They passed into the vaulted chapel with the seven dim lamps burning
+before the altar, and knelt down in the chancel stalls. Some of the
+servants came in and then the chaplain began the confession.
+
+The stately monotone went on, echoing through the damp breath of the
+morning.
+
+Father Ripon and Sir Michael turned to the east. The sun was pouring
+through the great window of stained glass, where Christ was painted
+ascending to heaven.
+
+The two elderly men said the creed after the priest in firm, almost
+triumphant voices:
+
+"I believe in God the Father ... and in Jesus Christ His only Son our
+Lord.... The third day he arose again from the dead. He ascended into
+heaven...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And those two, as they came gravely out of church and walked to the
+library, _knew_ that a great and awful lie was resounding through the
+world, for the Risen Christ had spoken with them, bidding them be of
+good courage for what was to come.
+
+The voice of Peter called down the ages:
+
+     "This Jesus hath God raised up, whereof we are all witnesses."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE DOMESTIC CHAPLAIN'S TESTIMONY
+
+
+When Mrs. Armstrong came down to breakfast her hostess told her, with
+many apologies, that Sir Michael had left for London with Father Ripon.
+They had gone by an early train. Matters of great moment were afoot.
+
+As this was being explained Mr. Wilson, the private chaplain, Schuabe,
+and Canon Walke entered the room. The Duke of Suffolk did not appear.
+
+A long, low room panelled in white, over which a huge fire of logs cast
+occasional cheery reflections, was used as a breakfast-room. Here and
+there the quiet simplicity of the place was violently disturbed by great
+gouts of colour, startling notes which, so cunningly had they been
+arranged in alternate opulence and denial, were harmonised with their
+background.
+
+A curtain of Tyrian purple, a sea picture full of gloom and glory, red
+light and wind; a bronze head, with brilliant, lifelike enamel eyes, the
+features swollen and brutal, from Sabacio--these were the means used by
+the young artist employed by Sir Michael to decorate the room.
+
+The long windows, hewn out of a six-foot wall, presented a sombre vista
+of great leafless trees standing in the trackless snow, touched here and
+there with the ruddiness of the winter sun.
+
+The glowing fire, the luxurious domesticity of the round table, with
+its shining silver and gleaming china, the great quiet of the park
+outside, gave a singular peace and remoteness to the breakfast-room.
+Here one seemed far away from strife and disturbance.
+
+This was the usual aspect and atmosphere of all Fencastle, but as the
+members of the house-party came together for the meal the air became
+suddenly electrified. Invisible waves of excitement, of surmise, doubt,
+and fear radiated from these humans. All had seen the paper, and though
+at first not one of them referred to it, the currents of tumult and
+alarm were knocking loudly at heart and brain, varied and widely diverse
+as were the emotions of each one.
+
+Mrs. Hubert Armstrong at length broke the silence. Her speech was
+deliberate, her words were chosen with extreme care, her tone was hushed
+and almost reverential.
+
+"To-day," she said, "what I perceive we have all heard, may mean the
+sudden dawning of a New Light in the world. If this stupendous statement
+is true--and it bears every hall-mark of the truth even at this early
+stage--a new image of Jesus of Nazareth will be for ever indelibly
+graven on the hearts of mankind. That image which thought, study, and
+research have already made so vivid to some of us will be common to the
+world. The old, weary superstitions will vanish for all time. The real
+significance of the anthropomorphic view will be clear at last. The
+world will be able to realise the Real Figure as It went in and out
+among Its brother men."
+
+She spoke with extreme earnestness. No doubt she saw in this marvellous
+historical confirmation of her attitude a triumph for the school of
+which she had become the vocal chieftainess, that would ring and glitter
+through the world of thought. The mental arrogance which had already led
+this woman so far was already busy, opening a vista that had suddenly
+become extremely dazzling, imminently near.
+
+At her words there was a sudden movement of relief among the others. The
+ice had been broken; formless and terrifying things assumed a shape that
+could be handled, discussed. Her words acted as a precipitate, which
+made analysis possible.
+
+The lady's calm, intellectual face, with its clear eyes and smooth bands
+of hair, waited with interest, but without impatience, for other views.
+
+Canon Walke took up her challenge. His words were assured enough, but
+Schuabe, listening with keen and sinister attention, detected a faint
+tremble, an alarmed lack of conviction. The courtier-Churchman, with his
+commanding presence, his grand manner, spoke without pedantry, but also
+without real force. His language was beautifully chosen, but it had not
+the ring of utter conviction, of passionate rejection of all that warred
+with Faith.
+
+A chaplain of the Court, the husband of an earl's daughter, a friend of
+royal folk, a future bishop, there were those who called him
+time-serving, exclusively ambitious. Schuabe realised that not here,
+indeed, was the great champion of Christianity. For a brief moment the
+Jew's mind flashed to a memory of the young curate at Manchester, then,
+with a little shudder of dislike, he bent his attention to Canon Walke's
+words.
+
+"No, Mrs. Armstrong," he was saying, "an article such as this in a
+newspaper will be dangerous; it will unsettle weak brains for a time
+until it is proved, as it will be proved, either a blasphemous
+fabrication or an ignorant mistake. It cannot be. Whatever the upshot of
+such rumours, they can only have a temporary effect. It may be that
+those at the head of the Church will have to sit close, to lay firm hold
+of principles, or anything that will steady the vessel as the storm
+sweeps up. This may be an even greater tempest than that which broke
+upon the Church in the days of the first George, when Christianity was
+believed to be fictitious. What did Bishop Butler say to his chaplain?
+He asked: 'What security is there against the insanity of individuals?
+The doctors know of none. Why, therefore, may not whole communities be
+seized with fits of insanity as well as individuals?' It is just that
+which will account for so much history tells us of wild revolt against
+Truth. It may be--God grant that it will not--that we are once more upon
+the eve of one of these storms. But, despite your anticipations, Mrs.
+Armstrong, you will see that the Church, as she has ever done, will
+weather the storm. I myself shall leave for town at mid-day, and follow
+the example of our host. My place is there. The Archbishop will,
+doubtless, hold a conference, if this story from Palestine seems to
+receive further confirmation. Such dangerous heresies must not be
+allowed to spread."
+
+Then Schuabe took up the discussion. "I fear for you, Canon Walke," he
+said, "and for the Church you represent. This news, it seems to me, is
+merely the evidence for the confirmation of what all thoughtful men
+believe to-day, though the majority of them do not speak out. There is a
+natural dislike to active propaganda, a timidity in combination to upset
+a system which is accepted, and which provides society as an ethical
+programme, though founded on initial error. But now--and I agree with
+Mrs. Armstrong in the extreme probability of this news being absolute
+fact, for Hands and Schmoeulder are names of weight--everything must be
+reconstructed and changed. The churches will go. Surely the times are
+ripe, the signs unmistakable? We are face to face with what is called an
+anti-clerical wave--a dislike to the clergy as the representatives of
+the Church, a dislike to the Church as the embodiment of religion, a
+dislike to religion as an unwelcome restraint upon liberty of thought.
+The storm which will burst now has been muttering and gathering here in
+England no less than on the Continent. You have heard its murmur in the
+debates on the Education Act, in the proposed State legislation for your
+Church. Your most venerable and essential forms are like trees creaking
+and groaning in the blast; public opinion is rioting to destroy. But
+perhaps until this morning it has never had a weapon strong enough to
+attack such a stronghold as the Church with any hope of victory. There
+has been much noise, but that is all. It has been a matter of _feeling_;
+_conviction_ has been weak, because it could only be supported by
+probabilities, not by certainties. The antichristian movement has been
+guided by emotions, hardly by principles. At last the great discovery
+which will rouse the world to sanity appears to have been made. Even as
+I speak in this quiet room the whole world is thrilling with this news.
+It is awakening from a long slumber."
+
+Walke heard his ringing words with manifest uneasiness. The man was
+unequal to the situation. He represented the earthly pomp and show of
+Christianity, wore the ceremonial vestments. He feared the concrete
+power, the vehement opposition of the mouthpiece of secularism. He saw
+the crisis, but from one side only. The deep spiritual love was not
+there.
+
+"You are exultant, Mr. Schuabe," he said coldly, "but you will hardly be
+so long."
+
+"You do not appreciate the situation, sir," Schuabe answered. "I can see
+further than you. A great intellectual peace will descend over the
+civilised world. Should one not exult at that, even though men must give
+up their dearest fetishes, their secret shrines; even though sentiment
+must be sacrificed to Truth? The religion of Nature, which is based
+upon the determination not to believe anything which is unsupported by
+indubitable evidence, will become the faith of the future, the
+fulfilment of progress. It is as Huxley said, '_Religion ought to mean
+simply reverence and love for the Ethical Ideal, and the desire to
+realise that Ideal in life._' Miracles do not happen. There has been no
+supernatural revelation, and nothing can be known of what Herbert
+Spencer calls the Infinite and Eternal Energy save by the study of the
+phenomena about us. And I repeat that the discovery we hear of to-day
+makes a thorough intellectual sanity possible for each living man. Doubt
+will disappear."
+
+"Yes, Mr. Schuabe," said Mrs. Armstrong, "you are right, incalculably
+right. It is to human intellect and that alone--the great Intellect of
+The Nazarene among others--that we must look from henceforth. Already by
+his unaided efforts man's achievements are everywhere breaking down
+superstition. The arts, the laws of gravitation, force, light, heat,
+sound, chemistry, electricity, and all that these imply--botany,
+medicine, bacteria, the circulation of the blood, the functions of the
+brain and nervous system (last-named abolishing all witchcraft and
+diabolic possession, such as we read of in the 'inspired' writings)--all
+these are but incidents in a progress never aided by the supernatural,
+but always impeded by the professors of it. Christians tortured the man
+who discovered the rotation of the earth, and in every church to-day
+absolutely false accounts of the origin of the world are publicly read.
+And as long as the world was content to believe that Jesus rose from the
+dead so long error has hindered development."
+
+"Yes," replied Schuabe, "all this will, I believe, inevitably follow the
+discovery of the professors in Palestine. And what does Christianity, as
+it is at present accepted, bring to the Christians? Localise it, and
+look at the English Church--Canon Walke's Church. At one time every one
+is a rigid Puritan and decries the bare accessories of worship, at
+another a Ritualist who twists and turns everything into fantastic
+shapes, as if he were furnishing an aesthetic bazaar. At another time
+these people are swayed with the doctrines of 'Christian Science,' and
+believe that pain is a pure trick of the diseased fancy, and matter the
+morbid creation of an unhealthy mind. Then we hear priests who tell us
+that the Old Testament (which in the same breath they announce to be
+witnessed to by Christ and His Apostles and the unbroken continuity of
+the Catholic Church) is an enlarged and plagiarised version of the days
+of a fantastic god discovered on a burnt brick at Babylon. And others
+sit anxiously waiting to know the precise value which this or that
+Gospel may possess, as its worth fluctuates like shares in the money
+market, with the last quotation from Germany! All this will cease."
+
+The while these august ones had been speaking, Father Wilson, the
+domestic chaplain at Fencastle, had remained silent but attentive.
+
+He was a lean, dark man, monk-like in appearance, somewhat saturnine on
+the surface. It was Sir Michael's wish, not the chaplain's, that he
+should sit with the guests as one of them, and make experience of the
+great ones of the world. For he had but little interest in worldly
+things or people.
+
+Schuabe's voice died away. Every one was a little exhausted, great
+matters had been dealt with. There came a little clink and clatter as
+they sought food.
+
+Suddenly Wilson looked up and began to speak. His voice was somewhat
+harsh and unsympathetic, his manner was uncompromising and without
+charm. As he spoke every one realised, with a sense of unpleasant
+shock, that he cared little or nothing for the society he was in.
+
+"It's very interesting, sir," he said, turning to Schuabe, "to hear all
+you have been saying. I have seen the paper and read of this so-called
+discovery too. Of course such a thing harmonises exactly with the
+opinions of those who want to believe it. But go and tell a devoted son
+of the Church that he has been fed with sacraments which are no
+sacraments, and all that he has done has been at best the honest mistake
+of a deceived man, and he will laugh in your face, as I do! There are
+memories, far back in his life, of confirmation, when his whole being
+was quickened and braced, which refuse to be explained as the
+hallucinations of a well-meaning but deceived man. There are memories
+when Christ drew near to his soul and helped him. Struggles with
+temptation are remembered when God's grace saved him. He also says,
+'Whether He be a sorcerer or not I know not; one thing I know, that
+whereas I was blind, now I see.' It is easy to part with one in whom we
+have never really believed. We can easily surrender what we have never
+held. But you haven't a notion of the real Christian's convictions, Mr.
+Schuabe. Your estimate of the future is based upon utter ignorance of
+the Christian's heart. You are incapable of understanding the heart to
+which experience has made it clear that Jesus was indeed the very
+Christ. There are many people who are _called_ Christians with whom your
+sayings and writings, and those of this lady here, have great power. It
+is because they have never found Christ. Unreal words, shallow emotions,
+unbalanced sentiment, leave such as these without armour in a time of
+tumult and conflicting cries. But if we _know_ Him, if we can look back
+over a life richer and fuller because we _have_ known Him, if we know,
+every man, the plague of his own heart, then your explorers may
+discover anything and we shall not believe. It is easy to prophesy as
+you have been doing all this meal-time--it is popular once more to shout
+the malignant 'Crucify'--but events will show you how utterly wrong you
+are in your estimate of the Christian character."
+
+They all stared at the chaplain. His sudden vigorous outburst, the
+harsh, unlovely voice, the contempt in it, was almost stupefying at
+first.
+
+Indeed, though they had certainly no cue from Sir Michael, they had
+regarded the silent, rather forbidding priest, in his cassock and robe,
+a dress which typified his reserve and detachment from all their
+interests, in the light of an upper servant, almost. Nor was it so much
+his interference they resented as his manner of interfering. The supreme
+confidence of the man galled them; it was patronising in its strength.
+
+Mrs. Armstrong heard the outburst with a slight frown of displeasure,
+which, as the priest continued, changed into a smile of kindly
+tolerance, the attitude of a housemaid who spares a spider. She
+remembered that, after all, her duty lay in being kind to those of less
+power than herself.
+
+The speech touched Schuabe more nearly. He seemed to hear a familiar
+echo of a voice he hated and feared. There was something chilling in
+these men who drew a confidence and certainty, sublime in its
+immobility, from the Unseen. He felt, as he had felt before, the hated
+barrier which he could in no wise pass, this calm fanaticism which would
+not even listen to him, which was beyond his influence. The bitter hate
+which welled up in his heart, the terrible scorn which he had to repress
+at these insults to his evil and devilish egoism, gave him almost a
+sense of physical nausea. His pale face became pallid, but he showed no
+other sign of the insane tempest within. He smiled slightly. That was
+all.
+
+As for Canon Walke, his feelings were varied. His face flickered with
+them in rapid alternation. He was quite conscious of the lack of life,
+fire, and conviction in what he himself had said. His own windy
+commonplaces shrank to nothingness and failure before the witnessing of
+the undistinguished priest. Before the two hostile intellects, the man
+and the woman, he had left the burden of the fight to this nobody. He
+was quick and jealous to mark the strength of Wilson's words, and his
+own failure had put him in an entirely false position. And yet a shrewd
+blow had been struck at Schuabe and Mrs. Armstrong; there was
+consolation in the fact.
+
+Father Wilson, when he had finished what he had to say, rose from his
+seat without more ado. "I will say a grace," he said. He made the sign
+of the Cross, muttered a short Latin thanksgiving, and strode from the
+room.
+
+"A fanatic," said Mrs. Armstrong.
+
+Neither Walke nor Schuabe replied.
+
+It was getting late in the morning. The sun had risen higher and flooded
+the level wastes of snow without. The little party finished their meal
+in silence.
+
+In the chapel Wilson knelt on the chancel step, praying that help and
+light might come to men and the imminent darkness pass away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+DEUS, DEUS MEUS, QUARE DERELIQUISTI!
+
+
+The Prime Minister was a man deeply interested in all philosophic
+thought, and especially in the Christian system of philosophy. He had
+written two most important books, weighty, brilliant contributions to
+the mass of thought by which his school laboured to make theism
+increasingly credible to the modern mind.
+
+He had proved that science, ethics, and theology are all open to the
+same kind of metaphysical difficulties, and that, therefore, to reject
+theology in the name of science was impossible. It was fortunate that,
+at this juncture, such a one should be at the head of affairs.
+
+The vast network of cables and telegraph wires, those tentacles which
+may be called the nerves of the world's brain, throbbed unceasingly
+after the tremendous announcement for which Ommaney had undertaken the
+responsibility.
+
+A battalion of special correspondents from every European and American
+paper of importance followed hot upon Harold Spence's trail.
+
+Nevertheless, for the first two or three days the world at large hardly
+realised the importance of what was happening. Nothing was certain. The
+whole statement depended upon two men. To the mass of people these two
+names--Hands, Schmoeulder--conveyed no meaning whatever. Nine tenths of
+the population of England knew nothing of the work of archaeologists in
+Palestine, had never even heard of the Exploring Society.
+
+Had Consols fallen a point or two the effect would have been far
+greater, the fact would have made more stir.
+
+The great dailies of equal standing with the _Wire_ were making every
+private preparation for a supply of news and a consensus of opinion. But
+all this activity went on behind the scenes, and nothing of it was yet
+allowed to transpire generally. The article in the _Wire_ was quoted
+from, but opinions upon it were printed with the greatest caution and
+reserve. Indeed, the general apathy of England at large was a source of
+extreme wonder to the unthinking, fearing minority.
+
+The mass of the clergy, at any rate in public, affected to ignore, or
+did really honestly dismiss as impossible, the whole question. A few
+words of earnest exhortation and indignant denial were all they
+permitted themselves.
+
+But beneath the surface, and among the real influencers of public
+opinion, great anxiety was felt.
+
+The Patriarch of the Greek Church called a council of Bishops, and Dr.
+Procopides, an ephor of antiquities from Athens, was sent immediately to
+Palestine.
+
+The following paragraph, in substance, appeared in the leader page of
+all the English papers. It was disseminated by the Press Association:
+
+     "We are in a position to state, that in order to allay the feeling
+     of uneasiness produced among the churches by a recent article in
+     the _Daily Wire_ making extraordinary statements as to a discovery
+     in Jerusalem, a conference was held yesterday at Lambeth. Their
+     Graces the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, the Bishops of
+     Manchester, Gloucester, Durham, Lincoln, and London were present.
+     Other well-known Churchmen consisted of Sir Michael Manichoe, Lord
+     Robert Verulam, Canons Baragwaneth and Walke, the Dean of
+     Christchurch and the Master of Trinity Hall. The Prime Minister was
+     not present, but was represented by Mr. Alured King. Mr. Ommaney,
+     the editor of the _Daily Wire_, was included in the conference.
+     Although, from the names mentioned, it will be seen that the
+     conference is considered to be of great importance, nothing has
+     been allowed to transpire as to the result of its deliberations."
+
+This paragraph appeared on the morning of the third day after the
+initial article. It began to attract great attention throughout the
+United Kingdom during the early part of the day.
+
+The _Westminster Gazette_ in its third edition then published a further
+statement. The public learned:
+
+     "Professor Clermont-Ganneau, the Professor of Biblical Antiquities
+     at the French University of La Sorbonne, arrived in London
+     yesterday night. He drove straight to the house of Sir Robert
+     Llwellyn, the famous archaeologist. Early this morning both
+     gentlemen drove to Downing Street, where they remained closeted
+     with the Prime Minister for an hour. While there, they were joined
+     by Dr. Grier, the learned Bishop of Leeds, and Dr. Carr, the Warden
+     of Wyckham College, Oxford. The four gentlemen were later driven to
+     Charing Cross Station in a brougham. On the platform from which the
+     Paris train starts they were met by Major-General Adams, the
+     Vice-President of the Palestine Exploring Society, and Sir Michael
+     Manichoe. The distinguished party entered a reserved saloon and
+     left, _en route_ for Paris, at mid-day. We are able to state on
+     undeniable authority that the party, which represents all that is
+     most authoritative in historical research and archaeological
+     knowledge, are a committee from a recent conference at Lambeth, and
+     are proceeding to Jerusalem to investigate the alleged discovery in
+     the Holy City."
+
+This was the prominent announcement, made on the afternoon of the third
+day, which began to quicken interest and excite the minds of people in
+England.
+
+All that evening countless families discussed the information with
+curious unrest and foreboding. In all the towns the churches were
+exceptionally full at evensong. One fact was more discussed than any
+other, more particularly in London.
+
+Although the six men who had left England so suddenly, almost furtively,
+were obviously on a mission of the highest importance, no reputable
+paper published more than the bare fact of their departure. Comment upon
+it, more detailed explanation of it, was sought in the columns of all
+the journals in vain.
+
+The next morning was big with shadow and gloom. A shudder passed over
+the country. Certain telegrams appeared in all the papers which struck a
+chill of fear to the very heart of all who read them, Christian and
+indifferent alike.
+
+It was as though a great and ominous bell had begun to toll over the
+world.
+
+The faces of people in the streets were universally pale.
+
+It was remarked that the noises of London, the traffic, the movement of
+crowds engaged upon their daily business, lost half their noise.
+
+The shops were full of Christmas gifts, but no one seemed to enter them.
+
+In addition to the telegrams a single leading article appeared in the
+_Daily Wire_, which burnt itself, as the extremest cold burns, into the
+brains of Englishmen.
+
+
+     "(1) TERRIBLE RIOTS IN JERUSALEM
+
+     "The French Consul-General and Staff, who were paying a ceremonial
+     visit to the Latin Patriarch, have been attacked by fanatical
+     Moslems, and only escaped from the fury of the crowd with great
+     difficulty, aided by the Turkish Guards. A vast concourse of
+     Armenian Christians, Russian pilgrims, and Aleppine Greeks
+     afterwards gathered round the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The
+     strange discovery said to have been made by the English excavator,
+     Mr. Hands, and the German Doctor Schmoeulder, has aroused the mob to
+     furious protest against it. For nearly an hour fervent cries of
+     '_Hadda Kuber Saidna_,' 'This is the tomb of our Lord,' filled all
+     the air. The Mohammedans and lower-class Jews made a wild attack
+     upon the protesting Christians in the courtyard of the church. Many
+     hundreds are dead and dying.
+
+          "REUTER."
+
+     "LATER.--Strong drafts of Turkish troops have marched into
+     Jerusalem. By special order from the Sultan to the Governor of the
+     city, the 'New Tomb,' discovered by Mr. Hands and Doctor
+     Schmoeulder, is guarded by a triple cordon of troops. The two
+     gentlemen are guests of the Governor. The concentration of troops
+     round the 'New Tomb' has left various portions of the city
+     unguarded. Naked Mohammedan fanatics, armed with swords, are
+     calling for a general massacre of Christians. The city is in a
+     state of utter anarchy. By the Jaffa gate and round the Mosque of
+     Omar the dervishes are preaching massacre."
+
+
+     "(2) SIR ROBERT LLWELLYN'S PARTY TO BE CONVEYED IN A WAR-SHIP
+
+     "MALTA.--Orders have been received here from the Admiralty that the
+     gunboat _Velox_ is to proceed at once to Alexandria, there to
+     await the coming of Sir Robert Llwellyn and the other members of
+     the English Commission by the Indian mail steamer from Brindisi.
+     The _Velox_ will then leave at once for Jaffa with the six
+     gentlemen. At Jaffa an escort of mounted Turkish troops will
+     accompany the party on the day's ride to Jerusalem."
+
+
+     "(3) BERLIN.--The German Emperor has convened the principal clergy
+     of the empire to meet him in conference at Potsdam. The conference
+     will sit with closed doors."
+
+
+     "(4) ROME.--A decree, or short letter, has just been issued from
+     the Vatican to all the 'Patriarchs, Primates, Archbishops, Bishops
+     and other local ordinaries having peace and communion with the Holy
+     See.' The decree deals with the alleged discoveries in Jerusalem.
+     In it Catholics are forbidden to read newspaper accounts of the
+     proceedings in Palestine, nor may they discuss them with their
+     friends. The decree has had the effect of drawing great attention
+     to the affairs in the East, and has excited much adverse comment
+     among the secularist party, and in the _Voce della Populo_."
+
+
+Quite suddenly, as if a curtain were withdrawn, the world began to
+realise the fact that something almost beyond imagination was taking
+place in the far-off Syrian town.
+
+These detached and sinister messages which flashed along the cables,
+with their stories of princes and potentates alarmed and active, made
+the general silence, the lack of detail, more oppressive. The unknown,
+or dimly guessed at, rather, laid hold on men's minds like some mighty
+convulsion of nature, imminent, and presaged by fearful signs. Thus the
+_Daily Wire_:
+
+     "The story of the recent gathering of great Churchmen at Lambeth
+     has not yet been made public, but there can be little doubt in the
+     minds of those who watch events that it must eventually take a
+     place among the great historical occurrences of the world's
+     history. While the men and women of England were going to and fro
+     about their business, the ecclesiastical princes of this realm were
+     met together in doubt, astonishment, and fear, confronted with a
+     problem so tremendous that we find comment upon it presents almost
+     insuperable difficulties.
+
+     "We do not therefore propose to take the widest view of probable
+     contingencies and events, for that would be impossible within the
+     limits of a single article. It must be enough that with a sense of
+     the profoundest responsibility, and with the deep emotions which
+     must arise in the heart of every man who is confronted by a vast
+     and sudden overthrow of one of the binding forces of life, we
+     briefly recapitulate the events of the last few days, and attempt a
+     forecast of what we fear must lie before us here in England.
+
+     "Four days ago we published in these columns the first account of a
+     discovery made by Mr. Cyril Hands, M.A., and confirmed by Dr.
+     Herman Schmoeulder, in the red earth _debris_ by the 'Tombs of the
+     Kings,' beyond the Damascus gate of Jerusalem. The news arrived at
+     this office through a private channel, in the form of a long and
+     detailed account written by Mr. Hands, the archaeologist and agent
+     of the Palestine Exploring Society. Before publishing the statement
+     the editor was enabled to discuss the advisability of doing so with
+     the Prime Minister. A long series of telegrams passed between the
+     office of this paper, the Foreign Office, and the gentlemen at
+     Jerusalem during the day preceding our publication of the document.
+     Hour by hour new details and a mass of contributory evidence came
+     to hand. All these papers, together with photographs, drawings,
+     and measurements, were placed by us in the hands of the Archbishop
+     of Canterbury. A conference of the greatest living English scholars
+     was summoned. The result of that meeting has been that a committee
+     representing the finest intellect and the most unsullied integrity
+     is now on its way to Jerusalem. Upon the verdict of Sir Robert
+     Llwellyn and his fellow-members, together with the distinguished
+     foreign _savants_ M. Clermont-Ganneau and Dr. Procopides, the
+     Ephor-General of Antiquities in the Athens Museum, the Christian
+     world must wait with terrible anxiety, but with a certainty that
+     the highest human intelligence is concentrated on its deliberation.
+
+     "What that verdict will be, seems, it must be boldly said and
+     faced, almost a foregone conclusion. We feel that we should be
+     lacking in our duty to our readers were we to withhold from them
+     certain facts. Not unnaturally His Grace the Archbishop and many of
+     his advisers have wished the press to preserve a complete silence
+     as to the result of the conference, a silence which should continue
+     until the report of the International Committee of Investigation is
+     published. We have endeavoured to preserve a reticence for two
+     days, but at this juncture it becomes our duty to inform the people
+     of England what we know. And we do not take this step without
+     careful consideration.
+
+     "We have informed the Prime Minister of our intention, and may
+     state that, despite the opposition of the Church Party, Lord ----
+     is in sympathy with it.
+
+     "Briefly, then, Sir Robert Llwellyn, the acknowledged leader of
+     archaeological research, has given it as his opinion that Mr.
+     Hands's discovery must be genuine. Sir Robert alone has had the
+     courage to speak out bravely, though he did so with manifest
+     emotion and reluctance. The other members of the conference have
+     refused to express an opinion, though of at least three from among
+     their number there can be little doubt that they concur with Sir
+     Robert's view.
+
+     "Private telegrams, which we have hitherto refrained from
+     publishing, show that the cultured people of Germany, from the
+     Emperor downwards, are persuaded that the story of Jesus of
+     Nazareth has at last been told. Many of the most eminent public men
+     of France agree with this view. These are statements borne out by
+     the evidence of our correspondents in foreign capitals who have
+     secured a series of interviews with those who represent public
+     opinion of the expert kind.
+
+     "The Roman Church, on the other hand, with that supreme isolation
+     and historic indifference to all that helps the cause of Progress
+     and Truth, has not only loftily declined to recognise the fact that
+     any discovery has been made at all, has not only absolutely
+     declined to be represented at Jerusalem, but has issued a
+     proclamation forbidding Roman Catholics to think of or discuss the
+     events which are shaking the fabric of Christendom.
+
+     "In saying as much as we have already said, in placing our
+     melancholy conviction on record in this way, we lay ourselves open
+     to the charge of prejudging the most important decision affecting
+     the welfare of mankind that any body of men have ever been called
+     upon to make. Not even the startling and overwhelming mass of
+     support we have received would have led us to do this were it not
+     our conviction that it is the wisest course to pursue in regard to
+     what we feel almost certain will happen in the future. It seems far
+     better to prepare the minds of Christian English men and women for
+     the terrible shock that they will have to endure by a more gradual
+     system of disclosure than would be possible were we to adopt the
+     suggestion of the bishops and keep silent.
+
+     "And now, in the concluding portion of this article, we must
+     briefly consider what the news that it has been our responsible and
+     painful duty to give first to the world will mean to England.
+
+     "We fear that the mental anguish of countless thousands must for a
+     time cloud the life of our country as it has never been clouded and
+     darkened before. The proof that the Divinity of the Greatest and
+     Wisest Teacher the world has ever known, or ever will know, is but
+     a symbolic fable, will for a time overwhelm the world. A great
+     upheaval of English society is beginning. Old and venerated
+     institutions will be swept away, minds fed upon the Christian
+     theory from youth, instinct with all its hereditary tradition, will
+     be for a while as men groping in the dark. But the light will come
+     after this great tempest, and it will be a broader, finer, more
+     steadfast light than before, because founded on, and springing
+     from, Eternal Truth. The mission of beneficent illusion is over.
+     Error will yet linger for a generation or two. That much is
+     certain. There will be more who will base their objections to the
+     New Revelation upon 'the unassailable and ultimate reality of
+     personal spiritual experience,' forgetting the psychological
+     influences of hereditary training, which have alone produced those
+     experiences. But, alas! the knell of the old and beautiful
+     superstitions is ringing. The Doom is begun. The Judge is set, who
+     shall stay it? Let us rather turn from the saddening spectacle of a
+     fallen creed and rejoice that the 'Infinite and eternal energy' men
+     and have called God--Jah-weh, =theos=--that mysterious law of
+     Progress evolution, is about to reveal man to himself more than ever
+     completely in its destruction of an imagined revelation."
+
+During the afternoon preceding the publication of the above article, the
+three principal proprietors had met at the offices of the paper and had
+held a long conference with Mr. Ommaney, the editor.
+
+It had been decided, as a matter of policy and in order to maintain the
+leading position already given to the paper by the first publication of
+Hands's dispatch, that a strong and definite line should be taken at
+once.
+
+The other great journals were already showing signs of a cautious
+"trimming" policy, which would allow them to take up any necessary
+attitude events might dictate. They feared to be explicit, to speak out.
+So they would lose the greater glory.
+
+Once more commercial and political influences were at work, as they had
+been two thousand years before. The little group of Jewish millionaires
+who sat in Ommaney's room had their prototypes in the times of Christ's
+Passion. Men of the modern world were once more enacting the awful drama
+of the Crucifixion.
+
+Constantine Schuabe was among the group; his words had more weight than
+any others. The largest holding in the paper was his. The tentacles of
+this man were far-reaching and strong.
+
+"For my part, gentlemen," Ommaney said, "I am entirely with Mr. Schuabe.
+I agree with him that we should at once take the boldest possible
+attitude. Sir Robert's opinion before he left was conclusive. We shall
+therefore publish a leader to-morrow taking up our standpoint. We will
+have it quite plain and simple. Strong and simple, but with no
+subtleties to puzzle and obscure the ordinary reader. It's no use to
+touch on history or metaphysics, or anything but pure simplicity."
+
+"Then, Mr. Ommaney," Schuabe had said, "since we are exactly agreed on
+the best thing to do, and since these other gentlemen are prepared to
+leave the thing in our hands, if you will allow me I will write the
+leading article myself."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+     HARNESS THE HORSES; AND GET UP, YE HORSEMEN, AND STAND FORTH WITH
+     YOUR HELMETS; FURBISH THE SPEARS, AND PUT ON THE BRIGANDINES.--JER.
+     XLVI: 4
+
+Father Ripon sat alone in his study at the Clergy House of St. Mary's.
+The room was quite silent, save for the occasional dropping of a coal
+upon the hearth, where a bright, clear fire glowed.
+
+Three walls of the room were lined with books. There was no carpet on
+the floor; the bare boards showed, except for a strip of worn matting in
+front of the little cheap brass fender. Over the mantel a great crucifix
+hung on the bare wall, painted, or rather washed with dark red colour.
+
+The few chairs which stood about were all old-fashioned and rather
+uncomfortable. A great writing-table was covered with papers and books.
+Two candles stood upon it and gave light to the room. The only other
+piece of furniture was a deal praying-stool, with a Bible and
+prayer-book upon the ledge.
+
+A rugged, ascetic place, four walls to work and pray in, with just the
+necessary tools and no more. Yet there was no _affectation_ of
+asceticism, the effect was not a considered one in any way. For example,
+there was an oar, with college arms painted on one blade, leaning
+against the wall, a memory of old days when Father Ripon had rowed four
+and his boat at Oxford had got to the head of the river one Eight's
+week. The oar looked as if it were waiting to be properly hung on the
+wall as a decorative trophy, which indeed it was. But it had been
+waiting for seven years. The priest never had time to nail it up. He did
+not despise comfort or decoration, pretend to a pose of rigidness; he
+simply hadn't the time for it himself. That was all. He was always
+promising himself to put up--for example--a pair of crimson curtains a
+sister had sent him months back. But whenever he really determined to
+get them out and hang them, some sudden call came and he had to rush out
+and save a soul.
+
+Father Ripon looked ill and worn. A pamphlet, a long, thin book bound in
+blue paper, with the Royal Arms on the top of the folio, lay upon the
+table. It was the report of the Committee of Investigation, and the
+whole world was ringing with it.
+
+The report had now appeared for two days.
+
+The priest took up _The Tower_, a weekly paper, the official organ, not
+of the pious Evangelical party within the Church, but of the
+ultra-Protestant.
+
+His hand shook with anger and disgust as he read, for the third time,
+the leading article printed in large type, with wider spaces than usual
+between the lines:
+
+     "We have hitherto refrained from any comment on the marvellous
+     discovery in Jerusalem, being content simply to record the progress
+     of the investigations, which have at last satisfied us that a
+     genuine discovery has been made.
+
+     "In the daily special issues of the organs of the sacerdotal party
+     we find much more freedom of expression. They have run the whole
+     gamut--Disbelief, Doubt, Desolation, Detraction, Demoralisation,
+     and Dismay. Rome and Ritualism have received a shock which
+     demolishes and destroys the very foundation of their sinful
+     system.
+
+     "Carnal in its conception it cannot survive.
+
+     "'The worship of the corporeal presence of Christ's natural flesh
+     and blood' (_vide_ the so-called _Black_ rubric at the end of the
+     order of the administration of the Lord's Supper) was always
+     prohibited in the Protestant Reformed Communion, but this
+     idolatrous practice has been the glory and boast of Babylon, and
+     the aim and object of the Traitors, within the Established Church
+     of England, whom we have habitually denounced.'
+
+     "'The times of this ignorance God winked at, but now commandeth all
+     men everywhere to repent.'
+
+     "Hidden by the Divine Providence till the fulness of time, a simple
+     inscription has taught us the full meaning of Paul's mysterious
+     words, 'Yea, though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now
+     henceforth know we Him no more.'--2 Cor. v. 16.
+
+     "Paul and Protestantism are vindicated at last. 'There is a natural
+     body and there is a spiritual body.' The spiritual body that
+     manifested the resurrection of Jesus to His disciples has too long
+     been identified with the natural body that was piously laid to rest
+     by Joseph and Nicodemus. Much that has been obscure in the Gospel
+     narratives is now explained.
+
+     "Men have always wondered that the Apostles, in preaching their
+     risen Lord, attempted no explanation of His manifestations of
+     Himself.
+
+     "We can understand now why it was that they were divinely protected
+     from imagining that the spiritual Body is a dead body revived.
+
+     "How often have perplexed believers been troubled by the questions
+     of our modern scientists as to the physical possibilities of a
+     future resurrection of the body! The material substance of humanity
+     is resolved into its elements, and again and again through the
+     centuries is employed in other organisms.
+
+     "'How then,' men have asked, 'can you believe that the body you
+     have deposited beneath the earth shall collect from the universe
+     its dissipated particles and rise again?'
+
+     "Hitherto we have been content to put the question aside with a
+     simple faith that 'with God all things are possible.' But to-day we
+     are enabled to have a further comprehension of the Lord's words,
+     'It is the spirit that quickeneth, the flesh profiteth nothing.'
+
+     "Doubtless those who, even among our own company of Evangelical
+     Protestants, have attached too much importance to the teaching of
+     the so-called 'Fathers of the Church' (who so early corrupted the
+     sweet simplicity of the Gospel) will find themselves compelled to a
+     more spiritual explanation of some passages of Holy Scripture; but
+     Faith will find little difficulty in rightly dividing and
+     interpreting the word of Truth.
+
+     "The Protestant cause has little to fear from facts. We have been
+     by God's Providence gradually prepared for a great elucidation of
+     the truth about the Resurrection.
+
+     "Those who studied with attention the treatise of the late
+     Frederick W. H. Myers (the man who, of all moderns, has best
+     appreciated the personality of Paul the apostle) had come to a
+     conviction on the survival of Human Personality after death on
+     scientific grounds.
+
+     "The Resurrection of the Lord Jesus was no longer to them 'a thing
+     incredible,' its unique character was recognised as consisting in
+     its spiritual power.
+
+     "'Some doubted,' as on the mountain in Galilee. Protestantism on
+     the Continent, especially in Germany, the home of what is misnamed
+     the 'Higher Criticism,' has been hampered in this way by the study
+     of the 'letter,' and so in some degree has lost the assistance of
+     'the spirit which giveth life.'
+
+     "But the great heart of Protestant England is still sound, and
+     whilst Rome and Ritualism are aghast as the foundation of their
+     fabric of lies crumbles into dust, we stand sure and steadfast,
+     rejoicing in hope.
+
+     "Some readjustment of formularies may be conceded to weak brethren.
+
+     "Our great Reformers drew up that marvellous manifesto of the
+     Protestant faith--'Articles agreed upon by the archbishops and
+     bishops of Both Provinces, and the whole clergy in the Convocation
+     holden at London in the year 1562 for the avoiding of diversities
+     of opinions, and for the establishing of consent touching True
+     Religion.'
+
+     "England was at that time--alas, how often has it been
+     so!--inclined to compromise.
+
+     "There were timid men amongst the great divines who brought us out
+     of Babylon, and the 4th article of the Thirty-nine was notoriously
+     drawn up in antagonism to the teaching of the holy Silesian
+     nobleman, Caspar Schwenckfeld, to satisfy the scruples of the
+     sacerdotal party, which clung to the benefices of the Establishment
+     then as now.
+
+     "The omission of twelve words would remove all doubt as to its
+     interpretation. We may be content to affirm that 'Christ did truly
+     rise again from death' without stating further 'and took again his
+     body with flesh, bones, and all things appertaining.'
+
+     "It has always been the curse of Christendom that man desired to
+     express in words the ineffable.
+
+     "'Intruding into those things which he hath not seen, vainly puffed
+     up by his fleshly mind.'
+
+     "But it need not now be difficult with the aid of a Protestant
+     Parliament, which has so recently and so gloriously determined on
+     the expulsion of sacerdotalists, to modify, in deference to pious
+     scruples, too rigid definitions. Time will suffice for these
+     necessary modifications of sixteenth-century theology.
+
+     "In the present, the gain is ours. We shall hear less of the cultus
+     of the 'Sacred Heart' in future. The blasphemous mimicry of the
+     Mass will perish from amongst us.
+
+     "No man, in England at least, will dare to affirm that the flesh in
+     which the Saviour bore our sins upon the Cross is exposed for
+     adoration on the so-called 'altar.'
+
+     "As Matthew Arnold put it, on the true grave of Jesus 'the Syrian
+     stars look down,' but the risen Christ, glorious in His _Spiritual_
+     Body, reigns over the hearts of his true followers, and we look
+     forward in faith to our departure from the earthly tabernacle,
+     which is dissolved day by day, knowing that we also have a
+     spiritual house not made with hands eternal in the heavens."
+
+As he read the clever trimming article and marked the bitterness of its
+tone, the priest's face grew red with anger and contempt.
+
+This facile acceptance of the Great Horror, this insolent conversion of
+it to party ends, this flimsy pretence of reconciling statements, which,
+if true, made Christianity a thing of nought, to a novel and trumped-up
+system of adherence to it, filled him with bitter antagonism.
+
+But, useful as the article was as showing the turn many men's minds were
+taking, there was no time to trouble about it now.
+
+To-morrow the great meeting of those who still believed Christ died and
+rose again from the dead was to be held.
+
+The terrible "Report" had been issued. During the forty hours of its
+existence everything was already beginning to crumble away. To-morrow
+the Church Militant must speak to the world.
+
+It was said, moreover, that the great wave of infidelity and mockery
+which was sweeping hourly over the country would culminate in a great
+riot to-morrow....
+
+Everything seemed dark, black, hopeless....
+
+He picked up the Report once more to study it, as he had done fifty
+times that day.
+
+But before he opened it he knelt in prayer.
+
+As he prayed, so sweet and certain an assurance came to him, he seemed
+so very near to the Lord, that doubt and gloom fled before that
+Presence.
+
+What were logic, proofs of stone-work, the reports of archaeologists, to
+This?
+
+Here in this lonely chamber Christ was, and spoke with His servant,
+bidding him be of good comfort.
+
+With bright eyes, full of the glow of one who walks with God, the priest
+opened the pamphlet once more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE HOUR OF CHAOS
+
+
+Although, during the first days of the Darkness, hundreds of thousands
+of Christian men and women were chilled almost to spiritual death, and
+although the lamp of Faith was flickering very low, it was not in London
+that the far-reaching effects of the discovery at Jerusalem were most
+immediately apparent.
+
+In that great City there is an outward indifference, bred of a million
+different interests, which has something akin to the supreme
+indifference of Nature. The many voices never blend into one, so that
+the ear may hear them in a single mighty shout.
+
+But in the grimmer North public opinion is heard more readily, and is
+more quickly visible. In the great centres of executive toil the vital
+truths of religion seem to enter more insistently into the lives of men
+and women whose environment presents them with fewer distractions than
+elsewhere. Often, indeed, this interest is a political interest rather
+than a deeply Christian one, a matter of controversy rather than
+feeling. Certain it is that all questions affecting religious beliefs
+loom large and have a real importance in the cities of the North.
+
+It was Wednesday evening at Walktown.
+
+Mr. Byars was reading the service. The huge, ugly church was lit with
+rows of gas-jets, arranged in coronae painted a drab green. But the
+priest's voice, strained and worn, echoed sadly and with a melancholy
+cadence through the great barn-like place. Two or three girls, a couple
+of men, and half a dozen boys made up the choir, which had dwindled to
+less than a fifth of its usual size. The organ was silent.
+
+Right down the church, those in the chancel saw row upon row of
+cushioned empty seats. Here and there a small group of people broke the
+chilling monotony of line, but the worshippers were very few. In the
+galleries an occasional couple, almost secure from observation,
+whispered to each other. The church was warm, the seats not
+uncomfortable; it was better to flirt here than in the cold, frost-bound
+streets.
+
+Never had Evensong been so cheerless and gloomy, even in that vast,
+unlovely building. There was no sermon. The vicar was suffering under
+such obvious strain, he looked so worn and ill, that even this lifeless
+congregation seemed to feel it a relief when the Blessing was said and
+it was free to shuffle out into the promenade of the streets.
+
+The harsh trumpeting of Mr. Philemon, the vestry clerk's final "Amen,"
+was almost jubilant.
+
+As Mr. Byars walked home he saw that the three great Unitarian chapels
+which he had to pass _en route_ were blazing with light. Policemen were
+standing at the doors to prevent the entrance of any more people into
+the overcrowded buildings. A tremendous life and energy pulsated within
+these buildings. Glancing back, with a bitter sigh, the vicar saw that
+the lights in St. Thomas were already extinguished, and the tower, in
+which the illuminated clock glowed sullenly, rose stark and cold into
+the dark winter sky.
+
+The last chapel of all, the Pembroke Road Chapel, had a row of finely
+appointed carriages waiting outside the doors. The horses were covered
+with cloths, the grooms and coachmen wore furs, and the breaths of men
+and beasts alike poured out in streams of blue vapour. These men stamped
+up and down the gravel sweep in front of the chapel and swung their arms
+in order to keep warm.
+
+On each side of the great polished mahogany doors were large placards,
+printed in black and red, vividly illuminated by electric arc lights.
+These announced that on that night Mr. Constantine Schuabe, M.P., would
+lecture on the recent discovery in Jerusalem. The title of the lecture,
+in staring black type, seemed to Mr. Byars as if it possessed an almost
+physical power. It struck him like a blow.
+
+     THE DOWNFALL OF CHRISTIANITY
+
+And then in smaller type,
+
+     ANTHROPOMORPHISM AN EXPLODED SUPERSTITION
+
+He walked on more hurriedly through the dark.
+
+All over the district the Church seemed tottering. The strong forces of
+Unitarianism and Judaism, always active enemies of the Church, were
+enjoying a moment of unexampled triumph. Led by nearly all the wealthy
+families in Walktown, all the Dissenters and many lukewarm Church people
+were crowding to these same synagogues. At the very height of these
+perversions, when Christianity was forsworn and derided on all sides,
+Schuabe had returned to Mount Prospect from London.
+
+His long-sustained position as head of the antichristian party in
+Parliament, in England indeed, his political connection with the place,
+his wealth, the ties of family and relationship, all combined to make
+him the greatest power of the moment in the North.
+
+His speeches, of enormous power and force, were delivered daily and
+reported _verbatim_ in all the newspapers. He became the Marlborough of
+a campaign.
+
+On every side the churches were almost deserted. Day by day ominous
+political murmurs were heard in street and factory. The time had come,
+men were saying, when an established priesthood and Church must be
+forced to relinquish its emoluments and position. The Bishop of
+Manchester, as he rolled through the streets in his carriage, leaning
+back upon the cushions, lost in thought, with his pipe between his lips,
+according to the wont and custom which had almost created a scandal in
+the neighbourhood, was hissed and hooted as he went on his way.
+
+With a sickness of heart, an utter weariness that was almost physical
+nausea, the vicar let himself into his house with a latch-key.
+
+There was a hushed, subdued air over the warm, comfortable house, felt
+quite certainly, though not easy to define. It was as though one lay
+dead in an upper chamber.
+
+Mr. Byars turned into his study. Helena rose to meet him. The beautiful,
+calm face was very pale and worn as if by long vigils. Minute lines of
+care had crept round the eyes, though the eyes themselves were as calm
+and steadfast as of old.
+
+"Basil feels much stronger to-night, Father," she said. "He is dressing
+now, and will come down to supper. He wishes to have a long talk with
+you, he says."
+
+For two weeks Gortre had lain prostrate in the house of his future
+father-in-law.
+
+It was as though he had watched the waters gradually rising round him
+until at last he was submerged in a merciful unconsciousness. The doctor
+said that he was enduring a very slight attack of brain-fever, but one
+which need cause no one any alarm, and which was, in fact, nothing at
+all in comparison to his former illness.
+
+His fine physical strength asserted itself and helped him to an easy
+_bodily_ recovery.
+
+To Basil himself, with returning health and a clearer brain came a
+renewal of mental power. A great strain was removed, the strain of
+waiting and watching, the tension of a sick anticipation.
+
+"It was almost as if I was conscious of this terrible thing that has
+happened," he said to Helena. "I am sure that I felt it coming
+instinctively in some curious psychic way. But now that we know the
+worst, I am my own man again. Soon, dear, I shall be up and about again,
+ready to fight against this blackness, to take my place in the ranks
+once more."
+
+To her loving solicitude he seemed to have some definite plan or
+purpose, but when she questioned him his reserve was impenetrable, even
+to her.
+
+During the days of darkness Helena's lot was hard, her heart heavy.
+While Mr. Byars was at least active, militant, she must eat her heart
+out in sorrow at home. The doctor had forbidden any talk on those
+subjects which were agitating the world, between her and Basil. She was
+denied that consolation. So while her father was attending the
+conferences at the Bishop's palace, speaking at meetings, visiting the
+sick with passionate, and, alas, how often useless! assurance that the
+Truth would prevail and the Light of the World once more shine out
+undimmed, she must live and pray alone.
+
+Helena's faith had never weakened. All through the trying days and
+nights it had burned steadily, clear, and pure. But all around her she
+saw the enemies of Christ prevailing. Nor was it with the slow movement
+of ordinary secularism, but with a great shout of triumph and exultation
+which resounded through the world. Men were deserting their posts, the
+Church she loved seemed tottering, a horrid confusion and anarchy was
+everywhere.
+
+And all that she could do was to pray. But as the girl moved about her
+simple household duties, as she tended the sick man with an almost
+wifely care, her prayers went on unceasingly and every action was
+interwoven with supplication.
+
+Pale, subdued, but with a quiet clearness and resolution in his eye,
+Basil came down to the meal. There was but little conversation during
+it. Afterwards, Helena went to her own room, knowing that her father and
+Gortre wished to be left alone.
+
+In the study the two men sat on either side of the fireplace. Basil wore
+a long dressing-gown of camel's-hair. He would not smoke, the doctor had
+forbidden it, but Mr. Byars lit his pipe with a sigh of satisfaction.
+
+"To think, Basil," the older man said in a broken voice, "to think that
+Christmas is upon us now! It's the vigil of Christmas, and never since
+our Lord's Passion has the world been in such a state. And worse than
+all is our utter impotence!" His voice grew almost angry. "We _know_,
+know as surely as we know anything, that this terrible business is some
+stupendous mistake or fraud. But there isn't the slightest possibility
+of any one listening to us. On one side the weightiest expert proof, on
+the other nothing but a conviction to oppose to what appear to be the
+hardest facts. I cannot blame any non-Christian for acquiescing in this
+discovery. Viewing the thing clearly and without prejudice, I can't
+blame any one. It is only the smallest minority, even of professing
+Christians, whose faith is strong enough to keep them from an utter
+denial of our Lord's Divinity. It is simply a matter of long personal
+experience that gives you and me and Helena our confidence in this
+utter darkness. But in comparison to the rest of the world, how many
+have that confidence?"
+
+He put down his pipe on the table and rested his head in his
+outstretched hands, a grey and venerable head. "It's awful, Basil," he
+said in a broken voice, and with his eyes full of tears. "In my old age
+I have seen this. I wish that I had gone with my dear wife. 'Help, Lord;
+for the godly man ceaseth; for the faithful fail from among the children
+of men.' But what is so bitter to me, my dear boy, is the sight of the
+utter overthrow of Faith. It all shows how terribly weak the majority of
+Christians are. Surface and symbol! symbol and surface!"
+
+"It will not last long," said Gortre, gravely. "For my part, Father, I
+think that this terrible trial is allowed and permitted by God to bring
+about a great and future triumph for His Son, which will marshal,
+organise, and consolidate Faith as nothing has ever done before. I am
+convinced of it."
+
+"Yes, it must be that," answered the vicar; "undoubtedly that is God's
+purpose. But I would that the light might come in my time. And I fear I
+shall not live to see it. I'm an old man now, Basil; this has aged me
+very much, and I shall not live much longer. It is God's will, but it is
+hard to know that one will die seeing Christ dethroned in the hearts of
+men, the Cross broken."
+
+"While I have been quietly up-stairs," said Gortre, "many strange
+thoughts have come to me, of which I want to speak to you to-night. I
+have things to tell you which I have mentioned to no one as yet. But
+before I go into these matters--very dark and terrible ones, I fear--I
+want you to give me a _resume_ of the position of things as they are
+now. The present state is not clear in my mind. I have not read many of
+the papers, and I want a sort of bird's-eye view of what is going on."
+
+"The position at present," said Mr. Byars, "from our point of view, is a
+kind of anarchy. Within every denomination those who absolutely refuse
+to credit the truth of the discovery are in the minority. Abroad, in
+France especially, wild free-thought of the rabid Tom Paine order has
+broken out everywhere in a kind of hysterical rage against Christianity.
+The immediate social result has been an appalling increase in crimes of
+lust and cruelty. Great alarm is felt by the authorities. All the papers
+are taking a horribly cynical view. They say that the delusion of
+Christianity has clouded men's brains for so long that they are now
+incapable of bearing the truth, and that the best way to govern the
+State is to go on making believe. On the other hand, the vast majority
+of Roman Catholics, both abroad and in England, have remained utterly
+uninfluenced. It is one of the most marvellous triumphs of discipline
+and order that history has ever witnessed. The Pope forbade the
+slightest notice of the discovery to be taken by priests or people in
+the first instance. Then, when the Report of the Committee was issued,
+with only one dissentient voice--Sir Michael Manichoe's--a Papal Bull
+was issued. Here it is, translated in _The Tablet_, magnificent in its
+brevity and serenity."
+
+He took a paper from the table beside him and began to read:
+
+     "VENERABLE BRETHREN,--HEALTH AND APOSTOLIC BENEDICTION
+
+     "It has seemed good to Us to address you on certain points dealing
+     with the decay of faith in divine things, which is the effect of
+     pride and moral corruption. And this is the natural result of
+     pride; for when this vice has taken possession of the heart it is
+     inevitable that the Christian Faith, which demands a most willing
+     docility, should languish, and that a murky darkness in regard to
+     divine truths should close upon the mind, so that in the case of
+     many these words should be made good, 'whatever things they know
+     not they blaspheme' (St. Jude). We, however, so far from being
+     hereby turned aside from the design which We have taken in hand,
+     are, on the contrary, determined all the more zealously and
+     diligently to guide the well-disposed, so that they may be saved
+     from the perils of secular unbelief.
+
+     "And, with the help of the united prayers of the faithful, We
+     earnestly implore forgiveness for those who speak evil of holy
+     things.
+
+     "And inasmuch as certain persons not being members of the Holy
+     Catholic Church have in an extremity of criminal madness laid claim
+     to discoveries which are pretended and put forth as affecting the
+     eternal Truths of the Faith, We command you, Venerable Brethren,
+     that it shall be stated in all the churches such pretences are void
+     of truth and utterly abominable. The enemies of Christ cry out, 'We
+     will not have this man to reign over us' (Luke xix. 14), and make
+     themselves loudly heard with the utterance of that wicked purpose,
+     'Let us make away with Him.'
+
+     "We therefore charge all Christians having peace and communion with
+     the Holy Church that they shall give no ear or countenance to these
+     onslaughts upon the Faith. It is forbidden for them to speak of
+     these things among themselves, or to listen to others concerning
+     them.
+
+     "With these injunctions, Venerable Brethren, We, as a presage of
+     the divine liberality, and as a pledge of our own charity, most
+     lovingly bestow on each of you, and on the clergy and flock
+     committed to the care of each, our Apostolic Benediction."
+
+"That is the gist of it," said Mr. Byars, "though I have missed out a
+few paragraphs. The result has been that, with a few exceptions, the
+whole army of Romanists, so to speak, have closed ranks and utterly
+refused to listen to what is going on."
+
+"It's very fine, very fine indeed, as a spectacle," Gortre answered. "I
+wish we had something like that unity and discipline. But is that
+submission, possibly without the fire of an inward conviction, worth
+very much? I doubt it."
+
+"It is not for us to judge," answered the vicar. "But the result has
+been that the Catholic Church, both here and on the Continent, is
+undergoing a storm of persecution and popular hatred. There have been
+fearful fights in Liverpool, and riots between the Irish dock-labourers
+and a mob of people who called themselves Protestants last year and
+'Rationalists' to-day.
+
+"The attitude of the Low Church party is varied. Many of them are openly
+deserting to Unitarianism. Others have accepted the discovery as being a
+true one, and evolved an entirely new theory from it, while using it as
+a party weapon also. This attitude is reflected in _The Tower_ in an
+article which says that, though the actual body of Christ is now proved
+never to have risen from the dead, the _spiritual_ body was what the
+Disciples saw. It is a clever piece of work, which has attracted an
+immense number of people, and is directed entirely against the Holy
+Eucharist.[1] The Moderate and High Church parties are in some ways in a
+worse position than any other. They find themselves unable to
+compromise. "At the great meeting in the Albert Hall the other day,
+which ended up in something like a free fight, all the conclusion the
+majority of the clergy could come to was that it was utterly impossible
+to accept the discovery and remain Christian. The result everywhere is
+chaos; men are resigning their livings, there have been several
+suicides--isn't it horrible to think of?--congregations are dwindling
+everywhere, and disestablishment seems a certainty in a very short time.
+The papers are full of nothing else, of course. We are fighting tooth
+and nail upon the standpoint of personal spiritual experience, which
+nothing can alter, but in a material way how little that helps! The
+Methodists and Wesleyans are more successful than any one. They are
+holding revival meetings all over the country. Very few of these two
+bodies have joined the infidel ranks. Dissent has always implied an act
+of choice, which, at any rate, means a man is not indifferent to the
+whole thing. I suppose that is why the Wesleyans seem to be making a
+firmer and more spiritual stand than any of us. To my shame I say it,
+but the Churchmen of England are not bearing witness as these others
+are."
+
+"And the Bishops?"
+
+"Most of them don't know what to do. Of course, the great leaders of
+spiritual thought, W----, for instance, and G----, have written that
+which has brought comfort and conviction to hundreds. But see the horror
+of the position. The only way in which this awful thing can be combated
+is by just the methods which only scholars and cultivated people can
+understand. How are people who read the hard, material, logical speeches
+of people like Schuabe, or that abominable woman, Mrs. Hubert Armstrong,
+going to be convinced by the subtleties of the intellect or by the
+reiteration of a personal conviction which they cannot share? Then the
+Court party, the Archbishop, Walke, and all those, are leaning more and
+more towards the 'spiritual' body theory, though they hesitate to commit
+themselves as yet. It is all to be shelved until Convocation meets. They
+want to see how things will go in Parliament. The Erastian spirit is
+rampant. They are nearly all afraid of any ecclesiastical action. They
+are following the lead of Germany under the Kaiser."
+
+"It is all very terrible to see how much less Christianity means to
+mankind than earnest Christians believed," said Gortre, sadly. "To see
+the edifice tumbling round one like a house of paper when one thought it
+so secure and strong. What a terrible lesson this will be in the future
+to every one; what frightful shame and humiliation will come to those
+who have denied their Lord when this is over!"
+
+"When will that be, Basil?" said the vicar, wearily. "It seems as if the
+real hour of test were at hand, and that now, finally and for ever, God
+means to separate the true believers from the rest. I have thought that
+all this may be but a prelude to the Last Day of all, and that Christ's
+Second Coming is very near. But what I _cannot_ understand, what is
+utterly beyond the power of any of us to appreciate, is what this all
+_means_. How can this new tomb have been discovered after all these
+years? Can all these great experts have been deceived? There have been
+historical forgeries before, but surely this cannot be one. And yet, I
+_know_, you _know_, that our Lord rose from the dead."
+
+"I believe that to me, of all men in England, The Hand of God has given
+the key to the mystery," said Gortre.
+
+Mr. Byars started and looked uneasily at him.
+
+"Basil," he said, "I have been thoughtless. We've talked too long. You
+are not quite clear as to what you are saying. Let us read compline
+together and go to bed."
+
+He watched Basil as he spoke, but before he had finished his sentence he
+saw something in the young man's face which sent the blood leaping and
+tearing through his veins.
+
+In a sudden, utterly unreasoning way, he saw a truth, a certain
+knowledge, in Gortre's eyes which flooded his whole heart and soul with
+exaltation and joy.
+
+His good and almost saintly face looked as John's might have looked
+when, after the octave of the Resurrection Day, the eight heavy-hearted
+men were once more returning to the daily round and common task, and saw
+the Lord upon the shore.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+THE FIRST LINKS
+
+
+"I have been piecing things together gradually, as I lay silent
+up-stairs," said Gortre, drawing his chair a little closer to the fire.
+
+"Slowly, little by little, I have added link and link to a chain of
+circumstantial evidence which has led me to an almost incredible
+conclusion. When you have heard what I have to say you will realise two
+things. One is that there are depths of human wickedness so abysmal and
+awful that the mind can hardly conceive of them. The other is that, for
+what reason it is not for us to try and divine, I have been led, by a
+most extraordinary series of events and coincidences, to something very
+near the truth about the discovery in Jerusalem. My story begins some
+months ago, on the night before I was struck down with brain-fever. You
+will remember that Constantine Schuabe"--he spoke the name with a
+shudder of horror that instinctively communicated itself to Mr.
+Byars--"that Schuabe called here on that night about the school
+scholarships. When I went away, I left the house with him. He invited me
+to go on to Mount Prospect and I did so. Earlier in the evening we had
+been talking of the antichrist and I had said to you that I saw in
+Schuabe a modern type of the old mediaeval idea. My mind was peculiarly
+sensitive on these points that night, awake, alert, and inquiring. When
+Schuabe invited me to his house, something impelled me to go, something
+outside of myself. I went, feeling that I was on the threshold of some
+discovery."
+
+He paused for a moment, white and tired with the intensity of his
+narrative.
+
+"When we got to Schuabe's house we began upon the controversial points
+which we had carefully avoided here. At first our talk was quite quiet,
+mere argument between two people having different points of view on
+religion. He went out to get some supper--the servants were all in bed.
+While he was gone, again I felt the strange assurance of something by me
+directing my actions. I felt a sense of direct spiritual protection. I
+went to the bookshelf and took down a Bible. I opened it, half ashamed
+of myself for the tinge of superstition, and my eyes fell upon the text:
+
+     "'WATCH AND PRAY.'
+
+"I could not help taking it as a direct message. Schuabe came back.
+Gradually, as I saw his bitter hatred and contempt for our Lord and the
+Christian Church becoming revealed, I was uplifted to rebuke him. He had
+dropped the veil of an _intellectual_ disagreement. Some power was given
+to me to see far into the man's soul. He knew that also, and all
+pretence between us was utterly swept away. Then I told him that his
+hate was real and active, that I saw him as he was. And these were the
+words in which he answered me, standing like Lucifer before me. For
+months they have haunted me. They are burnt in upon my brain for all
+time. '_I tell you, paid priest as you are, a blind man leading the
+blind, that a day is coming when all your boasted fabric of
+Christianity will disappear. It will go suddenly and be swept utterly
+away. And you, you shall see it. You shall be left naked of your Faith,
+stripped and bare, with all Christendom beside you. Your pale Nazarene
+shall die among the bitter laughter of the world, die as surely as he
+died two thousand years ago, and no man nor woman shall resurrect him.
+You know nothing, but you will remember my words of to-night, until you
+also become as nothing and endure the inevitable fate of mankind!_'"
+
+Mr. Byars started. As yet he realised nothing of where Basil's story was
+to lead. "A prophecy!" he cried. "It is as if he were gifted to know the
+future. Something of what he said has already come to pass."
+
+"My story is a long one, Father," said Gortre, "and as yet it is only
+begun. You will see plainer soon. Well, as he said these words I knew
+with certainty that this man was _afraid of God_. I saw his awful secret
+in his eyes, this man, antichrist indeed, _believes in our Lord_, and in
+terrible presumption dares to lift his hand against Him. Little more of
+importance happened upon that night. The next day, as you know, I fell
+ill and was so for some weeks. When I recovered and remembered perfectly
+all that had happened--do you remember how the picture of Christ fell
+and broke when Schuabe came?--I saw that I must keep all these things
+locked within my own brain. What could I do or say more than that I, a
+fanatical curate--that is what people would have said--had had a row
+with the famous agnostic millionaire and politician? I could not hope to
+explain to any one the reality of that evening, the certain knowledge I
+had of its being only a prelude to some horror that I could not foresee
+or name. So I kept my own counsel. Perhaps you may remember that on the
+night of the tea-party when I said good-bye to the people I urged them
+to keep fast hold on faith, made a special point of it?"
+
+Again Mr. Byars showed his intense interest by a sudden movement of the
+muscles of his face. But he did not speak, and Gortre continued:
+
+"Now we come to Dieppe when we were all there together. You will, of
+course, remember how Spence introduced us to Sir Robert Llwellyn, and
+how we talked over dinner at the _Pannier d'Or_. Since then, we must
+remember, Sir Robert's evidence in favour of the absolute authenticity
+of Hands's discovery has had more weight with the world than that of any
+one else. He is, of course, known to be the greatest living expert. And
+that fact also has a very important bearing on my story. After dinner,
+the conversation turned upon discoveries in exactly the direction that
+the recent discovery _has_ been made. Llwellyn expressed himself as
+believing that--I think I remember something like his actual words--'We
+are on the eve of stupendous discoveries in this direction.' None of us
+liked to pursue the discussion further. There was a little pause."
+
+"Yes!" said the vicar, "I remember it perfectly now; it all comes back
+to me quite vividly. But do you know that, beyond of course remembering
+that we were introduced to Sir Robert at Dieppe, the subject of our
+conversation had almost escaped my memory. Certainly I never thought of
+it in detail. But go on, Basil."
+
+"Well, then, Sir Robert drew a plan of the walls of Jerusalem on the
+back of a letter which he took from his pocket. As he turned the letter
+over I could not help seeing whom it was from. I read the signature
+quite distinctly, 'Constantine Schuabe.' This brings us up to a curious
+fact. Two eminent men, one antichristian, the other a famous
+archaeologist, both express an opinion in my hearing. The first says
+openly that something is about to occur that will destroy faith in
+Christ, the other hints only at some wonderful impending discovery in
+the Holy Land. The connection between the two statements, startling
+enough in any case, becomes still more so when it is discovered that
+these two eminent people are in correspondence one with the other. And
+there is more than this even. Two days after that dinner I was taking a
+stroll down by the quays when I saw Sir Robert and Mr. Schuabe, who had
+just landed from the Newhaven boat, get into the Paris train together."
+
+A sudden short exclamation came from the chair on the opposite side of
+the fire. Very dimly and vaguely the vicar was beginning to see where
+Basil's story was tending. The fire had grown low, and Mr. Byars
+replenished it. The noise of the falling coals accentuated the tension
+which filled the quiet room like a gas.
+
+Then Gortre's tired, but even and deliberate, voice continued:
+
+"I will here ask you to consider one or two other points. Professor
+Llwellyn told us that he had a year's leave from the British Museum
+owing to ill health. So long a rest presupposes a real illness, does it
+not? Now, of course, one can never be sure of anything of this sort, but
+it is, at least, curious and worthy of remark that Sir Robert seemed
+outwardly in perfect health and with a hearty appetite. He also said
+that he was _en route_ for Alexandria. Well, Alexandria is the nearest
+port to Jaffa, which is but one day's ride from Jerusalem. Now comes a
+still more curious part of my story. As I have told you, our parish in
+Bloomsbury is one in which a great class of undesirable people have made
+their home. It cannot be denied that it is a centre of some peculiarly
+shameless vice. Much of the work of the clergy lies among women of a
+certain class, and great tact and resolution is needed to deal with such
+problems as these people present. Some months ago a woman, whose face
+seemed in some vague way familiar to me, began to come to church. Once
+or twice she seemed to show an inclination to speak to me or my
+colleagues after the service, but she never actually did so. Eventually
+she called on Ripon, and confessed her way of life. Her repentance
+seemed sincere, and she was anxious to turn over a new leaf. It appeared
+that the girl was a rather well-known dancer at one of the burlesque
+theatres, and I must have seen her portrait on the hoardings and
+advertisements of these places. She had been touched by something in one
+of my sermons, it seems, and Ripon requested me to go and see her. I did
+so, in the flat where she lived, and we had a chat. The poor thing was
+suffering from an internal disease, and had only a year or two to live.
+She seemed a kindly, sensible creature enough, vulgar and
+pleasure-loving, but without any very great wickedness about her,
+despite her wretched life. She wanted to get right away, to bury herself
+in the country, and live a pure and quiet life until she died. The great
+difficulty in the way was the man whose mistress she was, and of whom
+she seemed in considerable fear. I explained to her that, with the help
+of Father Ripon and myself, no harm should come to her from him, and
+that her quiet disappearance from the scenes of her past life could be
+very easily managed. Then it came out that the man in whose power she
+was was none other than Sir Robert Llwellyn. _She told me that he had
+been for some time in Palestine._ She was expecting him back every day.
+While we were talking Sir Robert actually entered the room, fresh from
+his journey. We had a fearful row, of course, and he would not go until
+I threatened to use force, and then only because he was afraid of the
+scandal. But before he went he seemed filled with a sort of coarse
+triumph even in a moment of what must have been great discomfiture for
+him. I had to explain what had happened to him. I told him frankly that
+Miss Hunt--that was the woman's name--was, by the grace of the Holy
+Spirit, about to lead a new and different life. Then this sort of
+triumph burst forth. He said that in a short time meddling priests would
+lose all their power over the minds of others. He said that Christ, 'the
+pale dreamer of the East,' should be revealed to all men at last. He
+quoted the verse about the grave from Matthew Arnold. And it was all
+done with a great confidence and certainty."
+
+He stopped, worn out, and glanced inquiringly at Mr. Byars.
+
+The vicar was evidently much moved and excited by the narrative. "The
+most curious point of all," he said, "in what you tell me is the fact of
+Sir Robert's _private_ and _secret_ visit to Palestine some months
+before the discovery was made. Such a recent visit is entirely unknown
+to the public, who have been so busy with his name of late. The
+newspapers have said nothing of it. Otherwise, I see no reason why, in
+some way or other, Mr. Schuabe and Sir Robert may not have known of this
+tomb in some way before it was discovered by Hands, and their hintings
+of a catastrophe to faith may have simply been because of this knowledge
+which they were unwilling to publish."
+
+Gortre shook his head. "No, it is not that," he said. "It is not that.
+They would never have kept the knowledge secret. You have not been
+through the scenes with these men that I have. There are a hundred
+objections to that theory. _I am absolutely persuaded that this
+'discovery' is a forgery, executed with the highest skill, by the one
+man living capable of doing it at the instigation of the one man evil
+enough to suggest it._ The hand of God is leading me towards the truth."
+
+"But the proof!" said the vicar, "the proof! Think of the tremendous
+forces arrayed against us. What can we do? No one would listen to what
+you have told me."
+
+"God will show a way," said Gortre. "I know it. I had a letter from
+Harold Spence this morning. His work is done, and he has returned. At
+the end of the week the doctor says I shall be able to get back to
+Lincoln's Inn. I shall take counsel with Harold; he is brilliant, and a
+man of the world. Together we will work to overthrow these devils."
+
+"And meanwhile," answered Mr. Byars, with a despairing gesture,
+"meanwhile hope and faith are dying out of millions of hearts, men are
+turning to sinful pleasures unafraid, hopeless, desolate."
+
+The strain had been too great, he was growing older; he bent his head on
+his hands, while the darkness crept into his soul.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+PARTICULAR INSTANCES, CONTRASTING THE OLD LADY AND THE SPECIAL
+CORRESPONDENT
+
+
+The long Manchester station was full of the sullen and almost unbearable
+roar of escaping steam. Every now and again the noise ceased with a
+suddenness that was pain, and the groups of people waiting to see the
+London train start on its four hours' rush could hear each other's
+voices strange and thin after the mighty vibration.
+
+The feast of Christmas was over. Throughout the world the festival had
+fallen chill and cold on the hearts of mankind. The _Adeste Fideles_ had
+summoned few to worship, and the praise had sounded thin and hollow.
+Even the faithful must keep their deep conviction as a hidden fire
+within them amid the din and crash of faith and the rising tides of
+negation and despair.
+
+Gortre, Helena, and Mr. Byars stood together by the train side. They
+spoke but little; the same thought was in their brains. The jarring
+materialism of the scene, its steady, heedless industry, seemed an
+outrage almost in its cold disregard of the sadness which they felt
+themselves. The great engines glided in and out of the station, the
+porters and travellers moved with busy cheerfulness as if the world were
+not in the grip of a great darkness and horror, taking no account of
+it. They stood by the door of the carriage Basil had chosen, a forlorn
+group not quite able to realise the stir of life around them.
+
+Gortre was pale and worn, but visibly better and stronger. His face was
+fixed and resolute. The vicar seemed much older, shrunken somewhat, and
+his manner was more tremulous than before. His arm was in Helena's.
+
+"Basil," said the vicar, "you are going from us into what must be the
+unknown--God grant a happy issue out of the perils and difficulties
+before you. For my part, I seem to be in an unhappy and doubting state.
+It may be that you have the key to this black mystery and can dispel the
+clouds. I shall pray daily that it may be so. It is in the hands of
+God."
+
+He sighed heavily as he gripped Basil's hand in farewell. In truth, he
+had but little hope and had hardly been able to realise the young man's
+story. It was almost inconceivable to him, the abnormal wickedness it
+suggested, the possibility that this great cloud could come upon the
+world at the action of two men, both of whom he had known, found
+pleasant, cultured people, and rather liked. The thought was too big to
+grasp, it confused and stunned him. It is a curious fact that this good
+man, who could believe, despite all contrary evidence, in the eternal
+truths of the Gospel, could not believe in the malignancy which Basil's
+story had seemed to indicate.
+
+Helena had not been told of Basil's suspicions, only of his hopes. She
+knew that there was that in his mind which might lead once more to light
+and disperse the clouds. No details were given to her, nor did she ask
+for them. She was too serene and fine for commonplace curiosity. The
+mutual trust between the lovers was absolute. Nothing could strain it,
+nothing could disturb it; and in her love and admiration for Basil,
+Helena saw nothing incongruous or incredible in the fact that the young
+man hoped himself to bring peace back to the world.
+
+To any one viewing the project with unbiassed eyes it might have seemed
+beyond possibility, would have provoked a smile, this spectacle of an
+obscure curate going up to London in a third-class carriage with hopes
+of saving his country's faith, in the expectation of overthrowing the
+gigantic edifice of learned opinion, of combating a Sanhedrin of the
+great. Such people would have said with facile pedantry that this girl
+possessed no sense of humour, imagining that they were reproaching her.
+For by some strange mental perversion most people would rather be told
+that they lack a sense of morals or duty than a sense of humour, and it
+is quite certain that this was said of John the Baptist as he preached
+in his unconventional raiment upon Jordan's banks.
+
+Helena and Basil walked slowly up and down the platform, saying
+farewell.
+
+Her words of love and hope, her serene and unquestioning confidence,
+uplifted him as nothing else could do. At this moment, big with his own
+passionate hopes and desires, yet dismayed at the immensity of the task
+before him, the trust and encouragement of one he loved were especially
+helpful and uplifting. It was the tonic he needed. And as the train
+slowly moved out of the station the bright and noble face of his lady
+was the last thing he saw.
+
+He thought long of her as the train began to gather speed and rush
+through the smoky Northern towns. As many other people, Gortre found a
+stimulus to clear, ordered thought in the sensation of rapid motion. The
+brain worked with more power, owing to the exhilaration produced in it
+by speed.
+
+As the ponderous machine which was carrying him back to the great
+theatre of strife and effort gathered momentum and power, so his mind
+became filled with high hopes, began to glow with eagerness to strike a
+great blow against the enemies of Christ.
+
+He looked at the carriage, noticing for the first time, at least
+consciously, the people who sat there. He had two fellow-passengers, a
+man and a woman. The man seemed to belong to the skilled artisan class,
+decently dressed, of sober and quiet manner. His well-marked features,
+the prominent nose, keen grey eyes, and thick reddish moustache, spoke
+eloquently of "character" and somewhat of thought. The woman was old,
+past sixty, a little withered creature, insignificant of face, her mouth
+a button, her hair grey, scanty, and ill-nourished.
+
+The man was sitting opposite to Gortre and they fell into talk after a
+time on trivial subjects. The stranger was civil, but somewhat
+assertive. He did not use the ordinary "sir."
+
+Suddenly, with a slight smile of anticipation, he seemed to gather
+himself up for discussion.
+
+"Well," he said, "I don't wish individuals no particular harm, you'll
+understand, but speaking general, I suppose you realise that your job's
+over. The Church will be swept away for good 'n' all in a few months
+now, and to my way of thinking it'll be the best thing as 'as ever come
+to the country. The Church has always failed to reach the labourin'
+man."
+
+"Because the labouring man has generally failed to reach the Church,"
+said Gortre, smiling. "But you mean Disestablishment is near, I
+suppose?"
+
+"That's it, mister," said the man. "It must come now, and about time,
+too, after all these centuries of humbug. I used to go to church years
+back and sing 'The Church's one foundation.' Its foundation's been
+proved a pack o' lies now, and down it comes. Disestablishment will
+prove the salvation of England. When religion's swept away by act o'
+Parliament, then men will have an opportunity of talking sense and
+seeing things clearly."
+
+He spoke without rudeness but with a certain arrogance and an obvious
+satisfaction at the situation. Here was a parson cornered, literally,
+forced to listen to him, with no way of escape. Gortre imagined that he
+was congratulating himself that this was not a corridor train.
+
+"I think Disestablishment is very likely to come indeed," said Gortre,
+"and it will come the sooner for recent events. Of course I think that
+it will be most barefaced robbery to take endowments from the Church
+which are absolutely her own property, and use them for secular
+purposes, but I'm not at all sure that it wouldn't be an excellent thing
+for the Church after all. But you seem to think that Disestablishment
+will destroy _religion_. That is an entire mistake, as you will find."
+
+"It's destroyed already," said the man, "let alone what's _going_ to
+happen. Since what they've found out in Jerusalem the whole thing's gone
+puff! like blowin' out a match. You can't get fifty people together in
+any town what believe in religion any more. The religion of common sense
+has come now, and it's come to stay."
+
+A voice with a curious singing inflection came from the corner of the
+carriage, a voice utterly unlike the harsh North-country accent of the
+workman. The old woman was beginning to speak.
+
+Gortre recognised the curious Cornish tones at once, and looked up with
+sudden interest.
+
+"You'm wrong, my son," said the old woman, "bitter wrong you be, and
+'tis carnal vanity that spakes within you. To Lostwithul, where I bide,
+I could show 'ee different to what you do say."
+
+The workman, a good-humoured fellow enough, smiled superior at the odd
+old thing. The wrinkled face had become animated, two deep lines ran
+from the nostrils to the corner of the lips, hard and uncompromising.
+The eyes were bright.
+
+"Well, Mother," he said, "let's hear what _you've_ got ter say. Fair
+do's in argument is only just and proper."
+
+"Ah!" she replied, "it's easy to go scat when you've not got love of the
+Lard in your heart. I be gone sixty years of age, and many as I can mind
+back-along as have trodden the path of sorrow. There be a brae lot o'
+fools about."
+
+The workman winked at Gortre with huge enjoyment, and settled himself
+comfortably in his place.
+
+"Then you don't hold with Disestablishing the Church, Mother?" he said.
+
+"I do take no stock in Church," she replied, "begging the gentleman's
+pardon"--this to Gortre. "I was born and bred a Wesleyan and such I'm
+like to die. How should I know what they'll be doing up to London church
+town? This here is my first visit to England to see my daughter, and
+it'll be the last I've a mind to take. You should come to Cornwall, my
+dear, and then you'll see if religion's over and done away with."
+
+"But you've heard of all as they've just found out at Jerusalem, surely?
+It's known now that Christ never was what He made out to be. He won't
+save no more sinners,--it's all false what the Bible says, it's been
+_proved_. I suppose you've heard about _that_ in Cornwall?"
+
+"I was down to the shop," said the old lady, with the gentle contempt of
+one speaking to a foolish child. "I was down to the shop December month,
+and Mrs. Baragwaneth showed me the _Western Morning News_ with a picture
+and a lot of talk saying the Bible was ontrue, and Captain Billy Peters,
+of Treurthian mine, he was down-along too. How 'a did laugh at 'un! 'My
+dear,' he says, ''tis like the coast guards going mackerel-seining.
+Night after night have they been out, and shot the nets, too, for they
+be alwass seein' something briming, thinking it a school o' fish, and
+not knowing 'tis but moonshine. It's want of _experience_ that do make
+folk talk so.'"
+
+"That's all very well, Mother," answered the man, slightly nettled by
+the placid assurance of her tone. "That's all pretty enough, and though
+I don't understand your fishing terms I can guess at your meaning. But
+here's the _proof_ on one side and nothing at all on t'other. Here's all
+the learned men of all countries as says the Bible is not true, _and
+proving_ it, and here's you with no learning at all just saying it _is_,
+with no proof whatever."
+
+"Do 'ee want proof, then?" she answered eagerly, the odd see-saw of her
+voice becoming more and more accentuated in her excitement. "I tell 'ee
+ther's as many proofs as pilchards in the say. Ever since the Lard
+died--ah! 'twas a bitter nailing, a bitter nailing, my dear!"--she
+paused, almost with tears in her voice, and the whole atmosphere of the
+little compartment seemed to Basil to be irradiated, glorified by the
+shining faith of the old dame--"ever since that time the proofs have
+been going on. Now I'll tell 'ee as some as I've see'd, my son. Samson
+Trevorrow to Carbis water married my sister, May Rosewarne, forty years
+ago. He would drink something terrible bad, and swear like a foreigner.
+He'd a half-share in a trawler, three cottages, and money in the bank.
+First his money went, then his cottages, and he led a life of sin and
+brawling. He were a bad man, my dear. Every one were at 'un for an
+ongodly wastrel, but 'a kept on. An' the Lard gave him no children; May
+could not make a child to him, for she were onfruitful, but he would not
+change. All that folk with sense could do was done, but 't were no
+use."
+
+"Well, I know the sort of man," said the workman, with conviction. His
+interest was roused, that unfailing interest which the poorer classes
+take in each other's family history.
+
+"Then you do know that nothing won't turn them from their evil ways?"
+
+"When a chap gets the drink in him like that," replied the artisan,
+"there's no power that will take him from it. He'd go through sheet iron
+for it."
+
+"And so would Samson Trevorrow, my dear," she continued. "One night he
+came home from Penzance market, market-peart, as the saying is, drunk if
+you will. My sister said something to 'un, what 't was I couldn't say,
+but he struck her, for the first time. Next morning was the Sunday, and
+when she told him of what he'd done overnight, he was shamed of himself,
+and she got him to come along with her to chapel. 'T was a minister from
+Bodmin as prached, and 'ee did prache the Lard at Sam until the Word got
+hold on 'un and the man shook with repentance at his naughty life. He
+did kneel down before them all and prayed for forgiveness, and for the
+Lard to help 'un to lead a new life. From that Sabbath till he died,
+many years after, Sam never took anything of liquor, he stopped his
+sweering and carrying on, and he lived as a good man should. And in a
+year the Lard sent 'un a son, and if God wills I shall see the boy this
+afternoon, for he's to meet the train. There now, my son, that be gospel
+truth what I tell 'ee. After that can you expect any one with a grain of
+sense to listen to such foolish truck as you do tell? The Lard did that
+for Samson Trevorrow, changed 'un from black to white, 'a did. If the
+Queen herself were to tell me that the Lard Jesus wasn't He, I wouldn't
+believe her."
+
+As Gortre drove from Euston through the thronged veins of London
+towards the Inn, he thought much and with great thankfulness of the
+little episode in the train. Such simple faith, such supreme conviction,
+was, he knew, the precious possession of thousands still. What did it
+matter to these sturdy Nonconformists in the lone West that _savants_
+denied Christ? All over England the serene triumph of the Gospel, deep,
+deep down in the hearts of quiet people, gave the eternal lie to Schuabe
+and his followers. Never could they overcome the Risen Lord in the human
+heart. He began to realise more and more the ineffable wonder of the
+Incarnation.
+
+Before he had arrived at Chancery Lane the London streets began to take
+hold of him once more with the old familiar grip. How utterly unchanged
+they were! It seemed but a day since he had left them; it was impossible
+at the moment of re-contact to realise all that had passed since he had
+gone away.
+
+He was to have an immediate and almost terrifying reminder of it. The
+door of the chambers was not locked, and pushing it open, he entered.
+
+Always most sensitive to the _atmosphere_ of a room, moral as well as
+material, he was immediately struck by that of the chambers, most
+unpleasantly so, indeed. Certain indications of what had been going on
+there were easily seen. Others were not so assertive, but contributed
+their part, nevertheless, to the subtle general impression of the place.
+
+The air was stale with the pungent smell of Turkish tobacco and spirits.
+It was obvious that the windows had not been as freely opened as their
+wont. A litter of theatre programmes lay on one chair. On another was a
+programme of a Covent Garden ball and a girl's shoe of white satin, into
+which a fading bouquet of hothouse flowers had been wantonly crushed.
+The table was covered with the _debris_ of a supper, a _pate_, some
+long-necked bottles which had held Niersteiner, a hideous box of pink
+satin and light blue ribbons half full of _glace_ plums and chocolates.
+
+The little bust of the Hermes of Praxiteles, which stood on one of the
+bookcases, had been maltreated with a coarseness and vulgarity which
+hurt Basil like a blow. The delicate contour of the features, the pure
+white of the plaster, were soiled and degraded. The cheeks had been
+rouged up to the eyes, which were picked out in violet ink. The brows
+were arched with an "eyebrow pencil" and the lips with a vivid cardinal
+red.
+
+Basil put down his portmanteau and grew very pale as he looked round on
+these and many other evidences of sordid and unlovely riot. His heart
+sank within him. He began to fear for Harold Spence.
+
+Even as he looked round, Spence came into the room from his bed-chamber.
+He was dressed in a smoking jacket and flannel trousers. Basil saw at
+once that he had been drinking heavily. The cheeks were swollen under
+the pouch of the eye, he was unshaven, and his manner was full of noisy
+and tremulous geniality.
+
+There are men in whom a week or two of sudden relapse into old and evil
+courses has an extraordinarily visible effect. Spence was one of them.
+At the moment he looked as the clay model compares with the finished
+marble.
+
+Gortre was astounded at the change, but one thing the modern London
+clergyman learns is tact. The situation was obvious, it explained itself
+at once, and he nerved himself to deal with it warily and carefully.
+
+Spence himself was ill at ease at they went through the commonplaces of
+meeting. Then, when they were both seated by the fire and were smoking,
+he began to speak frankly.
+
+"I can see you are rather sick, old man," he said. "Better have it out
+and done with, don't you think?"
+
+"Tell me all about it, old fellow," said Gortre.
+
+"Well, there isn't very much to tell, only when I came back from
+Palestine after all that excitement I felt quite lost and miserable.
+Something seemed taken away out of one's life. Then there didn't seem
+much to do, and some of the old set looked me up and I have been
+racketing about town a good bit."
+
+"I thought you'd got over all that, Harold; because, putting it on no
+other grounds, you know the game is _not_ worth the candle."
+
+"So I had, Basil, before"--he swallowed something in his throat--"before
+_this_ happened. I didn't believe in it at first, of course, or, at
+least, not properly, when I got Hands's letter. But when I got out
+East--and you don't know and won't be able to understand how the East
+turns one's ideas upside down even at ordinary times--when I got out
+there and _saw_ what Hands had found, then everything seemed slipping
+away. Then the Commission came over and I was with them all and heard
+what they had to say. I know the whole private history of the thing from
+first to last. It made me quite hopeless--a terrible feeling--the sort
+of utter dreariness that Poe talks of that the man felt when he was
+riding up to the House of Usher. Of course, thousands of people must
+have felt just the same during the past weeks. But to have the one thing
+one leaned upon, the one hope that kept one straight in this life, the
+hope of another and happier one, cut suddenly out of one's
+consciousness! Is it any wonder that one has gone back to the old
+temptations? I don't think so, Basil."
+
+His voice dropped, an intense weariness showed in his face. His whole
+body seemed permeated by it, he seemed to sink together in his chair.
+All the mental pain he had endured, all the physical languor of fast
+living, that terrible nausea of the soul which seizes so imperiously
+upon the vicious man who is still conscious of sin; all these flooded
+over him, possessed him, as he sat before his friend.
+
+An enormous pity was in Basil's heart as he saw this concrete weakness
+and misery. He realised what he had only guessed at before or seen but
+dimly. He would not have believed this transformation possible; he had
+thought Harold stronger. But even as he pitied him he marvelled at the
+Power which had been able to keep the man pure and straight so long.
+Even this horrid _debacle_ was but another, if indirect, testimony to
+the power of Faith.
+
+And, secondly, as he listened to his friend's story, a deep anger, a
+righteous wrath as fierce as flame burned within him as he thought of
+the two men who, he was persuaded, had brought this ruin upon another.
+In Spence he was able to see but a single case out of thousands which he
+knew must be similar to it. The evil passions which lie in the hearts of
+all men had been loosened and unchained; they had sprung into furious
+activity, liberated by the appalling conspiracy of Schuabe and Llwellyn.
+
+It is noticeable that there was by this time hardly any doubt in
+Gortre's mind as to the truth of his suspicions.
+
+"I understand it all, old man," he said, "and you needn't tell me any
+more. I can sympathise with you. But I have much to tell you--news, or,
+at least, theories, which you will be astounded to hear. Listen
+carefully to me. I believe that just as you were the instrument of first
+bringing this news to public notice, so you and I are going to prove its
+falsity, to unearth the most wicked conspiracy in the world's history.
+Pull yourself together and follow me with all your power. All hope is
+not yet gone."
+
+Basil saw, with some relief, the set and attentive face before him, a
+face more like the old Spence. But, as he began to tell his story, there
+flashed into his mind a sudden picture of the old Cornish woman in the
+train, and he marvelled at that greater faith as his eye fell upon the
+foul disorder of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE TRIUMPH OF SIR ROBERT LLWELLYN
+
+
+In the large, open fireplaces of the Sheridan Club dining-room, logs of
+pine and cedar wood gave out a regular and well-diffused warmth.
+Outside, the snow was still falling, and beyond the long windows,
+covered with their crimson curtains, the yellow air was full of soft and
+silent movement.
+
+The extreme comfort of the lofty, panelled dining-room was accentuated a
+hundred-fold, to those entering it, by the chilly experience of the
+streets.
+
+The electric lights burnt steadily in their silk shades, the gleams
+falling upon the elaborate table furniture in a thousand points of
+dancing light.
+
+At one of the tables, laid for two people, Sir Robert Llwellyn was
+sitting. He was in evening dress, and his massive face was closely
+scrutinising a printed list propped up against a wine-glass before him.
+His expression was interested and intent. By his side was a sheet of the
+club note-paper, and from time to time he jotted down something upon it
+with a slender gold pencil.
+
+The great archaeologist was ordering dinner for himself and a guest with
+much thought and care.
+
+     _Creme d'asperge a la Reine_
+
+in his neat writing, the letters distinct from one another--almost like
+an inscription in Uncial Greek character, one might have fancied.
+
+_Turbot a l'Amiral_ promised well; the plump, powerful fingers wrote it
+down.
+
+_Poulardes du Mans roties_ with _petits pois a la Francaise_ with a
+_salade Nicoise_ to follow; that would be excellent! Then just a little
+_supreme de peches, a la Montreuil_, which is quite the best kind of
+_supreme_, then some _Parmesan_ before the coffee.
+
+"Quite a simple dinner, Painter," he said to the steward of the
+room,--the famous "small dining-room" with its alcoves and discreet
+corners,--"simple but good. Of course you will tell Maurice that it is
+for _me_. I want him to do quite his best. If you will send this list
+off to the kitchens with a message, we will go into the wines together."
+
+They went carefully into the wines.
+
+"Remember that we shall want the large liqueur glasses," he said, "with
+the Tuileries brandy. In fact, I think I'll take a little now, as an
+_aperitif_."
+
+The man bowed confidentially and went away. He returned with a long
+bottle of curious shape with an imperial crown blown in the glass. It
+was some of the famous brandy which had been lately found bricked up in
+a cellar close to the _Place Carrousel_, and was worth its weight in
+gold.
+
+On the tray stood one of the curious liqueur glasses lately introduced
+into the club by Sir Robert. It was the shape of a port-wine glass, but
+enormously large, capable of holding a pint or more, and made of glass
+as thin as tissue paper and fragile as straw. The steward poured a very
+little of the brandy into the great glass and twirled it round rapidly
+by the stem. This was the most epicurean device for bringing out the
+bouquet of the liqueur.
+
+Llwellyn sipped the precious liquid with an air of the most intense
+enjoyment. His face glowed with enthusiasm.
+
+"Wonderful, wonderful!" he said in a hushed voice. "There, take it away
+and bring me an olive. Then I will go down-stairs and wait for my friend
+in the smoking-room. You will serve the soup at five minutes past
+eight."
+
+He got up from the table and moved silently over the heavy carpet to the
+door.
+
+It was about seven o'clock. At eight Constantine Schuabe was coming to
+the Sheridan Club to dine.
+
+Sir Robert sat in the smoking-room with a tiny cigarette of South
+American tobacco, wrapped in maize leaf and tied round the centre with a
+tiny cord of green silk. His face expressed nothing but the most
+absolute repose. His correspondence with life was at that moment as
+complete as the most perfect health and discriminating luxury could make
+it.
+
+He stretched out his feet to the blaze and idly watched the reflection
+in the points of his shining boots.
+
+The room was quite silent now. A few men sat about reading the evening
+papers, and there was a subdued hum of talk from a table where two men
+were playing a casual game of chess, in which neither of them seemed
+much interested. A large clock upon the oak mantel-shelf ticked with
+muffled and soothing regularity.
+
+Llwellyn picked up a sixpenny illustrated paper, devoted to amusements
+and the lighter side of life, and lazily opened it.
+
+His eye fell upon a double-page article interspersed with photographs of
+actors and actresses. The article was a summing-up of the year's events
+on the lighter stage by an accepted expert in such matters. He read as
+follows:
+
+     "The six Trocadero girls whom I remember in Paris recently billed
+     as 'The Cocktails,' never forget that grace is more important in
+     dancing than mere agility. They are youthful looking, pretty and
+     supple, and their manoeuvres are cunningly devised. The _diseuse_ of
+     the troupe, Mdlle. Nepinasse, sings the Parisian success, _Viens
+     Poupoule_, with considerable 'go' and swing. But in hearing her at
+     the 'Gloucester' the other night I could not help regretting the
+     disappearance of brilliant Gertrude Hunt from the boards where she
+     was so great an attraction. _Poupoule_, or its English equivalent,
+     is just the type of song, with its attendant descriptive dance, in
+     which that gay little lady was seen at her best. In losing her, the
+     musical-comedy stage has lost a player whose peculiar individuality
+     will not easily be replaced. Gertrude Hunt stood quite alone among
+     her sisters of the Profession. Who will readily forget the pert
+     _insouciance_, the little trick of the gloved hands, the mellow
+     calling voice? It has been announced that this popular favourite
+     has disappeared for ever from the stage. But there is a distinct
+     mystery about the sudden eclipse of this star, and one which
+     conjecture and inquiry has utterly failed to solve. Well, I, in
+     common with thousands of others, can only sigh and regret it. Yet I
+     should like to think that these lines would meet her eye, and she
+     may know that I am only voicing the wishes of the public when I
+     call to her to come back and delight our eyes and ears as before."
+
+By the side of the paragraph there was a photograph of Gertrude Hunt. He
+stared at it, his mind busy with memories and evil longing. The bold,
+handsome face, the great eyes, looked him full in the face. Never had
+any woman been able to hold him as this one. She had become part of his
+life. In his mad passion for the dancer he had risked everything, until
+his whole career had depended upon the good-will of Constantine Schuabe.
+There had been no greater pleasure than to satisfy her wishes, however
+tasteless, however vulgar. And then, hastening back to her side with a
+fortune for her (the second he had poured into the white grasping
+hands), he had found her with the severe young priest. A power which he
+was unable to understand had risen up as a bar to his enormous egoism.
+She had gone, utterly disappeared, vanished as a shadow vanishes at the
+moving of a light.
+
+And all his resources, all those of the theatre people with whom she had
+been so long associated, had utterly failed to trace her.
+
+The Church had swallowed her up in its mystery and gloom. She was lost
+to him for ever. And the fierce longing to be with her once more burnt
+within him like the unhallowed flame upon the altar of an idol.
+
+As he regarded the chaos into which the Church was plunged he would
+laugh to himself in horrid glee. His indifference to all forms of
+religious congregations had gone. He felt an active and bitter hatred
+now hardly less than that of Schuabe himself. And all the concentrated
+hatred and incalculable malice that his poisoned brain distilled was
+focussed and directed upon the young curate who had been the means and
+instrument of his discomfiture. He had begun to plan schemes of swift
+revenge, laughing at himself sometimes for the crude melodrama of his
+thoughts.
+
+As a waiter with his powdered hair and white silk stockings showed
+Schuabe into the smoking-room, the Jew saw with surprise the flushed and
+agitated face of his host, so unlike its usual sensual serenity. He
+wondered what had arisen to disturb Llwellyn, and he made up his mind
+that he would know it before the evening was over.
+
+Schuabe, on his part, seemed depressed and in poor spirits. There was a
+restlessness, quite foreign to his usual composure, which appeared in
+little nervous tricks of his fingers. He toyed with his wine-glass and
+did poor justice to the careful dinner.
+
+"Everything is going on very well," Llwellyn said. "My book is nearly
+finished, and the American rights were sold yesterday. The Council of
+the Free Churches have appointed Dr. Barker to write a counterblast. Who
+could have foreseen the stir and tumult in the world? Everything is
+toppling over in the religious world. I have read of your triumphal
+progress in the North--this asparagus soup is excellent."
+
+"I don't feel very much inclined to talk of these things to-night," said
+Schuabe. "To tell the truth, my nerves are a little out of order, and I
+have been doing too much. I've got in that ridiculous state in which one
+is constantly apprehending some sinister event. Everything has gone
+well, and yet I'm like this. It is foolish. How humiliating a thought it
+is, Llwellyn, that even intellects like yours and mine are entirely
+dependent upon the secretions of the liver!"
+
+He smiled rather grimly, and the disturbance of the regular repose and
+immobility of his face showed depths of weary unhappiness which betrayed
+the tumult within.
+
+He recovered himself quickly, anxious, it seemed, to betray his thoughts
+no further.
+
+"You seemed upset when I came into the club," he said. "You ought to be
+happy enough. Debts all gone, fifty thousand in the bank, reputation
+higher than ever, and all the world listening to everything you've got
+to say." He smiled rather bitterly, as Llwellyn raised a glass of
+champagne to his lips.
+
+"Exactly," said Llwellyn. "I've got everything I wanted a few months
+ago, and one of the principal inducements for wanting it has gone."
+
+"Oh! you mean that girl?" answered Schuabe, contemptuously. "Well, buy
+another. They are for sale in all the theatres, you know."
+
+"It's all very well to sneer like that," replied Llwellyn. "It's nothing
+to me that you're about as cold-blooded as a fish, but you needn't sneer
+at a man who is not. Because you enjoy yourself by means of asceticism
+you have no more virtue than I have. I am fond of this one girl; she has
+become necessary to my life. I spent thousands on her, and then this
+abominable young parson takes her away--" He ground his teeth savagely,
+his face became purple, he was unable to finish his sentence.
+
+Curiously enough Schuabe seemed to be in sympathy with his host's rage.
+A deadly and vindictive expression crept into his eyes, which were
+nevertheless more glittering and cold than before.
+
+"Gortre has come back to London. He has been here nearly a week," said
+Schuabe, quickly.
+
+The other started. "You know his movements then? What has he to do with
+_you_?"
+
+"More than, perhaps, you think. Llwellyn, that young man is dangerous!"
+
+"He's done me all the harm he can already. There is nothing else he can
+do, unless he elopes with Lady Llwellyn, an event which I should view
+with singular equanimity."
+
+"At any rate, I take sufficient interest in that person's movements to
+have them reported to me daily."
+
+"Why on earth----?"
+
+"Simply because he guesses, or will guess, at the truth about the
+Damascus Gate sepulchre!"
+
+Llwellyn grew utterly white. When he spoke it was with several
+preliminary moistenings of the lips.
+
+"But what proof can he have?"
+
+"Don't be alarmed, Llwellyn. We are perfectly safe in every way. Only
+the man is an enemy of mine, and even small enemies are obnoxious. He
+won't disturb either of us for long."
+
+The big man gave a sigh of relief. "Well, you manage as you think best,"
+he said. "Confound him! He deserves all he gets--let's change the
+subject. It's a little too Adelphi-like to be amusing."
+
+"I am going to hear Pachmann in the St. James's Hall. Will you come?"
+
+Llwellyn considered a moment. "No, I don't think I will. I'm going out
+to a supper-party in St. John's Wood later--Charlie Fitzgerald's, the
+lessee of the Piccadilly. I shall go home and read a novel quietly. To
+tell the truth, I feel rather depressed, too. Everything seems going too
+well, doesn't it?"
+
+Schuabe's voice shook a little as he replied shortly.
+
+For a brief moment the veil was raised. Each saw the other with eyes
+full of the fear that was lurking within them.
+
+For weeks they had been at cross purposes, simulating a courage and
+indifference they did not feel.
+
+Now each knew the truth.
+
+They knew that the burden of their terrible secret was beginning to
+press and enclose them with its awful weight. Each had imagined the
+other free from his own terror, that terror that lifts up its head in
+times of night and silence, the dread Incubus that murders sleep.
+
+The two men went out of the club together without speaking. Their hearts
+were beating like drums within them; it was the beginning of the agony.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Llwellyn, his coat exchanged for a smoking jacket, lay back in a leather
+chair in his library. Since his return from Palestine he had transferred
+most of his belongings to a small flat in New Bond Street. He hardly
+ever visited his wife now. The flat in Bloomsbury Court Mansions had
+been given up when Gertrude Hunt had gone.
+
+In New Bond Street Sir Robert lived alone. A housekeeper in the basement
+of the buildings looked after his rooms and his valet slept above.
+
+The new _pied a terre_ was furnished with great luxury. It was not the
+garish luxury and vulgar splendour of Bloomsbury Court--that had been
+the dancer's taste. Here Llwellyn had gathered round him all that could
+make life pleasant, and his own taste had seen to everything.
+
+As he sat alone, slightly recovered from the nervous shock of the
+dinner, but in an utter depression of spirits, his thoughts once more
+went back to his lost mistress.
+
+It was in times like these that he needed her most. She would distract
+him, amuse him, where a less vulgar, more intellectual woman would have
+increased his boredom.
+
+He sighed heavily, pitying himself, utterly unconscious of his
+degradation. The books upon the shelves, learned and weighty monographs
+in all languages, his own brilliant contributions to historical science
+among them, had no power to help him. He sighed for his rowdy Circe.
+
+The electric bell of the flat rang sharply outside in the passage. His
+man was out, and he rose to answer it himself.
+
+A friend probably had looked him up for a drink and smoke. He was glad;
+he wanted companionship, easy, genial companionship, not that pale devil
+Schuabe, with his dreary talk and everlasting reminder.
+
+He went out into the passage and opened the front door. A woman stood
+there.
+
+She moved, and the light from the hall shone on her face.
+
+The eyes were brilliant, the lips were half parted.
+
+It was Gertrude Hunt.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They were sitting on each side of the fire.
+
+Gertrude was pale, but her dark beauty blazed at him.
+
+She was smoking a cigarette, just as in the old time.
+
+A little table with a caraffe of brandy and bottles of seltzer in a
+silver stand stood between them.
+
+Llwellyn's face was one large circle of pleasure and content. His eyes
+gleamed with an evil triumph as he looked at the girl.
+
+"Good Heavens!" he cried, "why, Gertie, it's almost worth while losing
+you to have you back again like this. It's just exactly as it used to
+be, only better; yes, better! So you got tired of it all, and you've
+come back. What a little fool you were ever to go away, dear!"
+
+"Yes, I got tired of it," she repeated, but in a curiously strained
+voice.
+
+He was too exhilarated to notice the strange manner of her reply.
+
+"Well, I've got any amount of ready cash now," he said joyously. "You
+can have anything you like now that you've given up the confounded
+parsons and become sensible again."
+
+She seemed to make an effort to throw off something that oppressed her.
+
+"Now, Bob," she said, "don't talk about it. I've been a little fool, but
+that's over. What a lot you've got to tell me! What did you do all the
+time you were away? Where did you raise the 'oof from? Tell me
+_everything_. Let's be as we were before. No more secrets!"
+
+He seemed to hesitate for a moment.
+
+She saw that, and stood up. "Come and kiss me, Bob," she said. He went
+to her with unsteady footsteps, as if he were intoxicated by the fury of
+his passion.
+
+"Tell me everything, Bob," she whispered into his ear.
+
+The man surrendered himself to her, utterly, absolutely.
+
+"Gertie," he said, "I'll tell you the queerest story you ever heard."
+
+He laughed wildly.
+
+"I've tricked the whole world by Jove! cleared fifty thousand pounds,
+and made fools of the whole world."
+
+She laughed, a shrill, high treble.
+
+"Dear old Bob," she cried; "clever old Bob, you're the best of them all!
+What have you done this time? Tell me all about it."
+
+"By God, I will," he cried. "I'll tell you the whole story, little
+girl." His voice was utterly changed.
+
+"Yes, everything!" she repeated fiercely.
+
+Her body shook violently as she spoke.
+
+The man thought it was in response to his caresses.
+
+And the face which looked out over the man's shoulder, and had lately
+been as the face of Delilah, was become as the face of Jael, the wife of
+Heber the Kenite.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"No more secrets, Bob?"
+
+"No more secrets, Gertie; but how pale you look! Take some brandy,
+little girl. Now, I'm going to make you laugh! Listen!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+PROGRESS
+
+
+Sir Michael Manichoe, Father Ripon, and Harold Spence were sitting in
+Sir Michael's own study in his London house in Berkeley Square. A small
+circular table with the remains of a simple meal showed that they had
+dined there, without formality, more of necessity than pleasure.
+
+When a small company of men animated by one strenuous purpose meet
+together, the same expression may often be seen on the face of each one
+of them. The three men in the study were curiously alike at this moment.
+A grim resolution, something of horror, a great expectation looked out
+of their eyes.
+
+Sir Michael looked at his watch. "Gortre ought to be here directly," he
+said. "It won't take him very long to drive from Victoria. The train
+must be in already."
+
+Father Ripon nodded, without speaking.
+
+There was another interval of silence.
+
+Then Spence spoke. "Of course it is only a _chance_," he said. "Gertrude
+Hunt may very likely be able to give us no information whatever. One can
+hardly suppose that Llewellyn would confide in her."
+
+"Not fully," said Father Ripon. "But there will be letters probably. I
+feel sure that Gortre will come back with some contributory evidence, at
+all events. We must go to work slowly, and with the greatest care."
+
+"The greatest possible care," repeated Sir Michael. "On the shoulders of
+us four people hangs an incredible burden. We must do nothing until we
+are _sure_. But ever since Gortre's suspicions have been known to me,
+ever since Schuabe asked you that curious question in the train, Ripon,
+I have felt absolutely assured of their truth. Everything becomes clear
+at once. The only difficulty is the difficulty of believing in such
+colossal wickedness, coupled with such supreme daring."
+
+"It is hard," said Father Ripon. "But probably one's mind is dazzled
+with the consequences, the _size_, and immensity of the fraud. Apart
+from this question of bigness, it may be that there is, given a certain
+Napoleonic type of brain, no more danger or difficulty in doing such
+gigantic evil than in doing evil on a smaller scale."
+
+"Perhaps the size of the operation blinds people--" Spence was
+continuing, when the door opened and the butler showed Gortre into the
+room.
+
+He wore a heavy black cloak and carried a Paisley travelling rug upon
+his arm.
+
+The three waiting men started up at his approach, with an unspoken
+question on the lips of each one of them.
+
+Gortre began to speak at once. He was slightly flushed from his ride
+through the keen, frosty air of the evening. His manner was brisk,
+hopeful.
+
+"The interview was excessively painful, as I had anticipated," he began.
+"The result has been this: I have been able to get no direct absolute
+confirmation of what we think. On the other hand, what I _have_ heard
+establishes something and has made me morally certain that we are on the
+right track. I think there can be no doubt about that. Again, there is a
+strong possibility that we shall know much more very shortly."
+
+"Have you had anything to eat?" asked Sir Michael.
+
+"No, sir, and I'm hungry after my journey. I'll have some of this cold
+beef, and tell you everything that has happened while I eat."
+
+He sat down, began his meal, and told his story in detail.
+
+"I found Miss Hunt," he said, "in her little cottage by the coast-guard
+watch-house, looking over the sea. Of course, as you know, she is known
+as Mrs. Hunt in the village. Only the rector knows her story--she has
+made herself very beloved in Eastworld, even in the short time she has
+been there. I asked her, first of all, about her life in general. Then,
+without in any way indicating the object of my visit--at that point--I
+led the conversation up to the subject of the Palestine 'discovery.' Of
+course she had heard of it, and knew all the details. The rector had
+preached upon it, and the whole village, so it seems, was in a ferment
+for a week or so. Then, in both Church and the Dissenting chapels--there
+are two--the whole thing died away in a marvellous manner. The history
+of it was extremely interesting. Every one came to service just the same
+as usual, life went on in unbroken placidity. The fishermen, who compose
+the whole population of the village, absolutely _refused_ to believe or
+discuss the thing. So utterly different from townspeople! They simply
+felt and knew intuitively that the statements made in the papers _must_
+be untrue. So without argument or worry they ignored it. Miss Hunt said
+that the church has been fuller than ever before, the people coming as a
+sort of stubborn protest against any attack upon the faith of their
+fathers. For her own part, when she realised what the news meant or
+would mean, Miss Hunt had a black time of terror and struggle. She is a
+woman with a good brain, and saw at once what it would mean to her. Her
+own words were infinitely pathetic. 'I went out on the sands,' she said,
+'and walked for miles. Then when I was tired out I sat down and cried,
+to think that there would never be any Jesus any more to save poor
+girls. It seemed so empty and terrible, and I'd only been trying to be
+good such a short time. I went to evensong when I got back; the bell was
+tolling just as usual. And as I sat there I saw that it _couldn't_ be
+true that Jesus was just a good man, and not God. I wondered at myself
+for doubting, seeing what He'd done for me. If the paper was right, then
+why was it I was so happy, happier than ever before in my life--although
+I am going to die soon? Why was it that I could go away and leave Bob
+and the old life? why was it that I could see Jesus in my walks, hear
+the wind praying--feel that everything was speaking of Him?' That was
+the gist of what she said, though there was much more. I wish I could
+tell you adequately of the deep conviction in her voice and eyes. One
+doesn't often see it, except in very old people. After this I began to
+speak of our suspicions as delicately as possible. It was horribly
+difficult. One was afraid of awakening old longings and recalling that
+man's influence. I was relieved to find that she took it very well
+indeed. Her feelings towards the man have undergone a complete change.
+She fears him, not because he has yet an influence over her, but with a
+hearty fear and horror of the life she was living with him. When I told
+her what we thought, she began at once by saying that from what she knew
+of Llwellyn he would not stop even at such wickedness as this. She said
+that he only cared for two things, and kept them quite distinct. When he
+is working he throws his whole heart into what he is doing, and he will
+let no obstacle stand in his way. He wants to constantly assure himself
+of his own pre-eminence in his work. He must be first at any cost. When
+his work is over he dismisses it absolutely from his thoughts, and lives
+entirely for gross, material pleasures. The man seems to pursue these
+with a horrid, overwhelming eagerness. I gather that he must be one of
+the coldest and most calculating sybarites that breathes. The actual
+points I have gathered are these, and I think you will see that they are
+extremely important. Llwellyn was indebted enormously to Schuabe.
+Suddenly, Miss Hunt tells me, when Llwellyn's financial position began
+to be very shaky, Schuabe forgave him the old debts and paid him a large
+sum of money. Llwellyn paid off a lot of the girl's debts, and he told
+her that the money had come from that source. It was not a loan this
+time, he said to her, but a payment for some work he was about to do. He
+also impressed the necessity of silence upon her. While away he wrote
+several times to her--once from Alexandria, from one or two places on
+the Continent, _and twice from the German hotel, the_ 'Sabil,' _in
+Jerusalem_."
+
+There was a sudden murmur from one or two men who were listening to
+Gortre's narrative. He had long since forgotten to eat and was leaning
+forward on the table. He paused for a moment, drank a glass of water,
+and concluded:
+
+"This then is all that I know at present, but it gives us a basis. We
+know that Sir Robert Llwellyn was staying privately at Jerusalem. Miss
+Hunt was instructed to write to him under the name of the Rev. Robert
+Lake, and she did so, thinking that his incognito was assumed owing to
+the kind of pleasures he was pursuing, and especially because of his
+recent knighthood. But in a week's time Miss Hunt has asked me to go
+down to Eastworld again, as she has hopes of getting other evidence for
+me. She will not say what this is likely to consist of, or, in fact,
+tell me anything about it. But she has hopes."
+
+"This is of great importance, Gortre," said Sir Michael; "we have
+something definite to go upon."
+
+"I will start again for Jerusalem without loss of a day," said Spence,
+his whole face lighting up and hardening at the thought of active
+occupation.
+
+"I was going to suggest it, Mr. Spence," said Sir Michael. "You will do
+what is necessary better than any of us; your departure will attract
+less notice. You will of course draw upon me for any moneys that may be
+necessary. If in the course of your investigations it may be--and it is
+extremely probable--may be necessary to buy the truth, of course no
+money considerations must stand in the way. We are working for the peace
+and happiness of millions. We are in very deep waters."
+
+Father Ripon gave a deep sigh. Then, in an instant, his face hardened
+and flushed till it was almost unrecognisable. The others started back
+from him in amazement. He began to tremble violently from the legs
+upwards. Then he spoke:
+
+"God forgive me," he said in a thick, husky voice. "God forgive me! But
+when I think of those two men, devils that they are, devils! when I
+regard the broken lives, the suicides, the fearful mass of crime, I----"
+
+His voice failed him. The frightful wrath and anger took him and shook
+him like a reed--this tall, black-robed figure--it twisted him with a
+physical convulsion inexpressibly painful to witness.
+
+For near a minute Father Ripon stood among them thus, and they were
+rigid with sympathy, with alarm.
+
+Then, with a heavy sob, he turned and fell upon his knees in silent
+prayer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A SOUL ALONE ON THE SEA-SHORE
+
+
+The little village of Eastworld is set on a low headland by the sea,
+remote from towns and any haunt of men. The white cottages of the
+fisherfolk, an inn, the church, and a low range of coast-guard
+buildings, are the only buildings there. Below the headland there are
+miles upon miles of utterly lonely sands which edge the sea in a great
+yellow scimitar as far as the eye can carry, from east to west.
+
+Hardly any human footsteps ever disturb the vast virgin smoothness of
+the sands, for the fisherfolk sail up the mouth of a sluggish tidal
+river to reach the village. All day long the melancholy sea-birds call
+to each other over the wastes, and away on the sky-line, or so it seems
+to any one walking upon the sands, the great white breakers roll and
+boom for ever.
+
+Over the flat expanses the tide, with no obstacle to slacken or impede
+its progress, rushes with furious haste--as fast, so the fisherfolks
+tell, as a good horse in full gallop.
+
+It was the beginning of the winter afternoon on the day after Gortre had
+visited Eastworld.
+
+There was little wind, but the sky hung low in cold and menacing clouds,
+ineffably cheerless and gloomy.
+
+A single figure moved slowly through these forbidding solitudes. It was
+Gertrude Hunt. She wore a simple coat and skirt of grey tweed, a
+tam-o'-shanter cap of crimson wool, and carried a walking cane.
+
+She had come out alone to think out a problem out there between the sea
+and sky, with no human help or sympathy to aid her.
+
+The strong, passionate face was paler than before and worn by suffering.
+Yet as she strode along there was a wild beauty in her appearance which
+seemed to harmonise with the very spirit and meaning of the place where
+she was. And yet the face had lost the old jaunty hardihood. Qualities
+in it which had before spoken of an impudent self-sufficiency now were
+changed to quiet purpose. There was an appeal for pity in the eyes which
+had once been bright with shamelessness and sin.
+
+The woman was thinking deeply. Her head was bowed as she walked, the
+lips set close together.
+
+Gortre's visit had moved her deeply. When she had heard his story
+something within her, an intuition beyond calm reason, had told her
+instantly of its truth. She could not have said why she knew this, but
+she was utterly certain.
+
+Her long connection with Llwellyn had left no traces of affection now.
+As she would kneel in the little windy church on the headland and listen
+to the rector, an old friend of Father Ripon's, reading prayers, she
+looked back on her past life as a man going about his business in
+sunlight remembers some horrid nightmare of the evening past. She but
+rarely allowed her thoughts to dwell upon the former partner of her sin,
+but when she did so it was with a sense of shrinking and dislike. As the
+new Light which filled her life taught, she endeavoured to think of the
+man with Christian charity and sometimes to pray that his heart also
+might be touched. But perhaps this was the most difficult of all the
+duties she set herself, although she had no illusions about the past,
+realised his kindness to her, and also that she had been at least as bad
+as he. But now there seemed a great gulf between them which she never
+cared to pass even in thought.
+
+Her repentance was so sincere and deep, her mourning for her misspent
+life so genuine, that it never allowed her the least iota of spiritual
+pride--the snare of weaker penitents when they have turned from evil
+courses. Yet, try as she would, she could never manage to really
+identify her hopes and prayers with Llwellyn in any vivid way.
+
+And now the young clergyman, the actual instrument of her own salvation
+as she regarded him, had come to her with this story in which she had
+recognised the truth.
+
+In sad and eloquent words he had painted for her what the great fraud
+had meant to thousands. He told of upright and godly men stricken down
+because their faith was not strong enough to bear the blow. There was
+the curate at Wigan, who had shot himself and left a heart-breaking
+letter of mad mockery behind him; there were other cases of suicide.
+There was the surging tide of crime, rising ever higher and higher as
+the clergy lost all their influence in the slums of London and the great
+towns. He told her of Harold Spence, mentioning him as "a journalist
+friend of mine," explaining what a good fellow he was, and how he had
+overcome his temptations with the aid of religion and faith. And he
+described his own return to Lincoln's Inn, the disorder, and Harold's
+miserable story. She could picture it all so well, that side of life.
+She knew its every detail. And, moreover, Gortre had said "the evil was
+growing and spreading each day, each hour." True as it was that the
+myriad lamps of the Faithful only burned the brighter for the
+surrounding gloom, yet that gloom was growing and rolling up, even as
+the clouds on which her unseeing eyes were fixed as she walked along the
+shore. Men were becoming reckless; the hosts of evil triumphed on every
+side.
+
+The thought which came to her as Gortre had gradually unfolded the
+object of his visit was startling. She herself might perhaps prove to be
+the pivot upon which these great events were turning. It was possible
+that by her words, that by means of her help, the dark conspiracy might
+be unveiled and the world freed from its burden. She herself might be
+able to do all this, a kind of thank-offering for the miraculous change
+that had been wrought in her life.
+
+Yet, when it was all summed up, how little she had to tell Gortre after
+all! True, her information was of some value; it seemed to confirm what
+he and his friends suspected. But still it was very little, and it meant
+long delay, if she could provide no other key to open this dark door.
+And meanwhile souls were dying and sinking....
+
+She had asked Gortre to come to her again in a week.
+
+In that time, she had said, she might have some further information for
+him.
+
+And now she was out here, alone on the sands, to ask her soul and God
+what she was to do.
+
+The clouds fell lower, a cutting wind began to moan and cry over the
+sand, which was swept up and swirled in her face. And still she went on
+with a bitterness and chill as of death in her heart.
+
+She knew her power over her former lover,--if that pure word could
+describe such an unhallowed passion,--knew her power well. He would be
+as wax in her hands, and it had always been so. From the very first she
+had done what she liked with him, and there had always been an
+undercurrent of contempt in her thoughts that a man could be led so
+easily, could be made the doll and puppet of his own passion. Nor did
+she doubt that her power still remained. She felt sure of that. Even in
+her seclusion some news of his frantic attempts to find her had reached
+her. Her beauty still remained, heightened indeed by the slow complaint
+from which she was suffering. He knew nothing of that. And, as for the
+rest--the rouge-pot, the belladonna--well, they were still available,
+though she had thought to have done with them for ever.
+
+The idea began to emerge from the mist, as it were, and to take form and
+colour. She thought definitely of it, though with horror; looked it in
+the face, though shuddering as she did so.
+
+It resolved itself into a statement, a formula, which rang and dinned
+itself repeatedly into her consciousness like the ominous strokes of a
+bell heard through the turmoil of the gathering storm,--
+
+"_If I go back to Bob and pretend I'm tired of being good, he will tell
+me all he's done._"
+
+Over and over again the girl repeated the sentence to herself. It glowed
+in her brain, and burnt it like letters of heated wire. She looked up at
+the leaden canopy which held the wind, and it flashed out at her in
+letters of violet lightning. The wind carved it in the sand,--
+
+"_If I go back to Bob and pretend I'm tired of being good, he will tell
+me what he has done._"
+
+Could she do this thing for the sake of Gortre, for the sake of the
+world? What did it mean exactly? She would be sinning terribly once
+more, going back to the old life. It was possible that she might never
+be able to break away again after achieving her purpose; one did not
+twice escape hell. It would mean that she sinned a deadly sin in order
+to help others. Ought she to do that! Was that right?
+
+The wind fifed round her, shrieking.
+
+_Could she do this thing?_
+
+She would only be sinning with her body, not with her heart, and Christ
+would know why she did so. Would He cast her out for this?
+
+The struggle went on in her brain. She was not a subtle person, unused
+to any self-communing that was not perfectly straightforward and simple.
+The efforts she was making now were terribly hard for her to endure. Yet
+she forced her mind to the work by a great effort of will, summoned all
+her flagging energies to high consideration.
+
+If she went back it _might_ mean utter damnation, even though she found
+out what she wanted to find out. She had been a Christian so short a
+time, she knew very little of the truth about these matters.
+
+In her misery and struggle she began more and more to think in this way.
+
+Suddenly she saw the thing, as she fancied, and indeed said half aloud
+to herself, "in a common-sense light." Her face worked horribly, though
+she was quite unconscious of it.
+
+"It's better that one person, especially one that's been as bad as I
+have, should go to hell than hundreds and thousands of others."
+
+And then her decision was taken.
+
+The light died out of her face, the hope also. She became old in a
+sudden moment.
+
+And, with one despairing prayer for forgiveness, she began to walk
+towards her cottage--there was a fast train to town.
+
+She believed that there could hardly be forgiveness for her act, and yet
+the thought of "the others" gave her strength to sin.
+
+And so, out of her great love for Christ, this poor harlot set out to
+sin a sin which she thought would take Him away from her for ever.
+
+
+END OF BOOK II
+
+
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+
+" ... Woman fearing and trembling"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+WHAT IT MEANT TO THE WORLD'S WOMEN
+
+
+In her house in the older, early-Victorian remnants of Kensington, Mrs.
+Hubert Armstrong sat at breakfast. Her daughter, a pretty,
+unintellectual girl, was pouring out tea with a suggestion of flippancy
+in her manner. The room was grave and somewhat formal. Portraits of
+Matthew Arnold, Professor Green, and Mark Pattison hung upon the sombre,
+olive walls.
+
+Over the mantel-shelf, painted in ornamental chocolate-coloured letters,
+the famous authoress's pet motto was austerely blazoned,--
+
+"_The decisive events of the world take place in the intellect._"
+
+Indeed, save for the bright-haired girl at the urn, the room struck just
+that note. It would be difficult to imagine an ordinary conversation
+taking place there. It was a place in which solid chunks of thought were
+gravely handed about.
+
+Mrs. Armstrong wore a flowing morning wrap of dark red material. It was
+clasped at the smooth white throat by a large cameo brooch, a dignified
+bauble once the property of George Eliot. The clear, steady eyes, the
+smooth bands of shining hair, the full, calm lips of the lady were all
+eloquent of splendid unemotional health, assisted by a careful system
+of hygiene.
+
+She was opening her letters, cutting the envelopes carefully with a
+silver knife.
+
+"Shall I give you some more tea, Mother?" the daughter asked in a
+somewhat impatient voice. The offer was declined, and the girl rose to
+go. "I'm off now to skate with the Tremaines at Henglers," she said, and
+hurriedly left the room.
+
+Mrs. Armstrong sighed in a sort of placid wonder, as Minerva might have
+sighed coming suddenly upon Psyche running races with Cupid in a wood,
+and turned to another letter.
+
+It was written in firm, strong writing on paper headed with some
+official-looking print.
+
+
+     THE WORLD'S WOMAN'S LEAGUE
+
+     LONDON HEADQUARTERS,
+     100 REGENT STREET, S. W.
+
+     SECRETARY, MISS PAULL
+
+     "MY DEAR CHARLOTTE,--I should be extremely glad to see you here
+     to-day about lunch time. I must have a long and important talk with
+     you. The work is in a bad way. I know you are extremely busy, but
+     trust to see you as the matters for conference are urgent.
+     Your affectionate Sister,
+
+          "CATHERINE PAULL."
+
+
+Miss Paull was a well-known figure in what may be called "executive"
+life. Both she and her elder sister, Mrs. Armstrong, had been daughters
+of an Oxford tutor, and had become immersed in public affairs early in
+life. While the elder became a famous novelist and leader of "cultured
+doubt," the younger had remained unmarried and thrown herself with great
+eagerness into the movement which had for its object the strengthening
+of woman's position and the lightening of her burdens, no less in
+England than over the whole world.
+
+The "World's Woman's League" was a great unsectarian society with
+tentacles all over the globe. The Indian lady missionaries and doctors,
+who worked in the zenanas, were affiliated to it. The English and
+American vigilance societies for the safe-guarding of girls, the women
+of the furtive students' clubs in Russia, the Melbourne society for the
+supply of domestic workers in the lonely up-country stations of
+Australia, all, while having their own corporate and separate
+existences, were affiliated to, and in communication with, the central
+offices of the League in Regent Street.
+
+The League was all-embracing. Christian, non-Christian, or heathen, it
+mattered nothing. It aimed at the gigantic task of centralising all the
+societies for the welfare of women throughout the globe.
+
+On the board of directors one found the names and titles of all the
+humanitarians of Europe.
+
+The working head of this vast organisation was the thin, active woman of
+middle age whose name figured in a hundred blue-books, whose speeches
+and articles were sometimes of international importance, whose political
+power was undoubtable--Miss Catherine Paull.
+
+The most important function of the League, or one of its most important
+functions, was the yearly publication of a huge report or statement of
+more than a thousand pages. This annual was recognised universally as
+the most trustworthy and valuable summary of the progress of women in
+the world. It was quoted in Parliament a hundred times each session; its
+figures were regarded as authoritative in every way.
+
+This report was published every May, and as Mrs. Hubert Armstrong drove
+to Regent Street in her brougham she realised that points in connection
+with it were to be discussed, possibly with the various sectional
+editors, possibly with Miss Paull alone.
+
+As was natural, so distinguished an example of the "higher woman" as
+Mrs. Armstrong was a great help to the League, and her near relationship
+to the secretary made her help and advice in constant request.
+
+The office occupied two extensive floors in the quadrant, housing an
+army of women clerks, typewriters, and a literary staff almost
+exclusively feminine. Here, from morning till night, was a hum of busy
+activity quite foreign to the office controlled by the more drone-like
+men. Miss Paull contrived to interest the most insignificant of her
+girls in the work that was to be done, making each one feel that in the
+performance of her task lay not only the means of earning a weekly wage,
+but of doing something for women all over the world.
+
+In short, the League was an admirable and powerful institution, presided
+over by an admirable and earnest woman of wonderful organising ability
+and the gift of tact, that _extreme_ tact necessary in dealing with
+hundreds of societies officered and ruled by women whose official
+activities did not always quell that feminine jealousy and bickering
+which generally militate against success.
+
+It was some weeks since Mrs. Armstrong had seen her sister or
+communicated with her. The great events in Jerusalem, the chaos into
+which the holders of the old creeds had been thrown, had meant a series
+of platform and journalistic triumphs for the novelist. Her importance
+had increased a thousand-fold, her presence was demanded everywhere, and
+she had quite lost touch with the League for a time.
+
+As she entered her sister's room she was beaming with satisfaction at
+the memory of the past few weeks, and anticipating with pleasure the
+congratulations that would be forthcoming. Miss Paull, in the main,
+agreed with her sister's opinions, though her extraordinarily strenuous
+life and busy activities in other directions prevented her public
+adherence to them.
+
+Moreover, her position as head of the League, which included so many
+definitely Christian societies, made it inadvisable for her to take a
+prominent controversial part as Mrs. Armstrong did.
+
+The secretary's room was large and well lit by double windows, which
+prevented the roar of the Regent Street traffic from becoming too
+obtrusive.
+
+Except that there was some evidence of order and neatness on the three
+great writing-tables, and that the books on the shelves were all in
+their places, there was nothing to distinguish the place from the
+private room of a busy solicitor or merchant.
+
+Perhaps the only thing which gave the place any really individual note
+was a large brass kettle, which droned on the fire, and a sort of
+sideboard with a good many teacups and a glass jar full of what seemed
+to be sponge cakes.
+
+The two women greeted each other affectionately. Then Miss Paull sent
+away her secretary, who had been writing with her, expressing her desire
+to be quite alone for an hour or more.
+
+"I want to discuss the report with you, Charlotte," said Miss Paull,
+deftly pouring some hot water into a green stone-ware teapot.
+
+She removed her _pince-nez_, which had become clouded with the steam,
+and waited for Mrs. Armstrong to speak.
+
+"I expected that was it when I got your note, dear," said the novelist.
+"I am sorry I have been so much away of late. But, of course, you will
+have seen how my time has been taken up. Since all Our contentions have
+been so remarkably established, of course one is looked to a great
+deal. I have to be everywhere just at present. _John Mulgrave_ has been
+through three more editions during the last fortnight."
+
+"Yes, Charlotte," answered the sister, "one hears of you on all sides.
+It is a wonderful triumph from one point of view."
+
+Mrs. Armstrong looked up quickly, with surprise in her eyes. There was a
+strange lack of enthusiasm in the secretary's tone. Indeed, it was even
+less than unenthusiastic; it hinted almost of dislike, nearly of dismay.
+
+It could not be jealousy of the blaze of notoriety which had fallen upon
+Mrs. Armstrong, the lady knew her sister too well for that. For one
+brief moment she allowed herself the unworthy suspicion that Miss Paull
+had been harbouring Christian leanings, or had, in the stress and worry
+of overwork, permitted herself a sentimental adherence to the
+Christ-myth.
+
+But it was only for a single moment that such thoughts remained in her
+brain. She dismissed them at once as disloyal to her sister and
+undignified for herself.
+
+"I don't quite understand, Catherine," she said. "Surely from _every_
+point of view this glorious vindication of the truth is of
+_incalculable_ benefit to mankind. How can it be otherwise? Now that we
+know the great teacher Jesus----"
+
+She was beginning somewhat on the lines of her public utterances, with a
+slightly inspired look which, though habit had made mechanical, was
+still sincere, when her sister checked her with some asperity.
+
+"That is all well and good," she said, her rather sharp, animated
+features becoming more harsh and eager as she spoke. "You, Charlotte,
+are at the moment concerned with the future and with abstractions. I am
+busied with the present and with _facts_. However I may share your
+gladness at this vindication, in my official capacity, and more, in the
+interests of my life work, I am bound to deplore what has happened. I
+deplore it grievously."
+
+Placid and equable as was her usual temper of mind, Mrs. Armstrong was
+hardly proof against such a sweeping assertion as this.
+
+Her face flushed slightly.
+
+"Please explain," she said somewhat coldly.
+
+"That is why I wanted you to come to-day," answered Miss Paull. "I very
+much fear you will be more than startled at what I have to tell you and
+show you. My facts are all ready--piteous, heart-breaking facts, too.
+_We_ know, here, what is going on below the surface. _We_ are confronted
+by statistics, and theories pale before them. Our system is perfect."
+
+She made a movement of her arm and pointed to a small adjacent table, on
+which were arranged various documents for inspection.
+
+The novelist followed the glance, curiously disturbed by the sadness of
+the other's voice and the bitterness of her manner. "Show me what you
+mean, dear," she said.
+
+Miss Paull got up and went to the table. "I will begin with points of
+local interest," she said, "that is, with the English statistics. In
+regard to these I will call your attention to a branch of the Social
+Question. First of all, look at the monthly map for the current month
+and the one for the month before the Palestine Discovery."
+
+She handed two outline maps of Great Britain and Ireland to her sister.
+
+The maps were shaded in crimson in different localities, the colour
+being either light, medium, or dark. Innumerable figures were dotted
+over them, referring to comprehensive marginal notes. Above each map was
+printed:
+
+     SERIES D.--CRIMES AGAINST WOMEN
+
+And the month and year were written in below in violet ink.
+
+Mrs. Armstrong held the two maps, which were mounted on stiff card, and
+glanced from one to the other. Suddenly her face flushed, her eyes
+became full of incredulous horror, and she stared at her sister. "What
+is this, Catherine?" she said in a high, agitated voice. "Surely there
+is some mistake? This is terrible!"
+
+"Terrible, indeed," Miss Paull answered. "During the last month, in
+Wales, criminal assaults have increased _two hundred per cent_. In
+England scarcely less. In Ireland, with the exception of Ulster, the
+increase has been only eight per cent. I am comparing the map before the
+discovery with that of the present month. Crimes of ordinary violence,
+wife-beating and such like, have increased fifty per cent., on an
+average, all over the United Kingdom. We have, of course, all the
+convictions, sentences, and so forth. The local agents supply them to
+the British Protection Society, they tabulate them and send them here,
+and then the maps are made in this office ready for the annual report."
+
+"But," said Mrs. Armstrong with a shocked, pale face, "is it _certain_
+that this is a case of cause and effect?"
+
+"Absolutely certain, Charlotte. Here I have over a thousand letters from
+men and women interested in the work in all the great towns. They are in
+answer to direct queries on the subject. In order that there could be no
+possibility of any sectarian bias, the form has been sent to leading
+citizens, of all denominations and creeds, who are interested in the
+work. I will show you two letters at random."
+
+She picked out two of the printed forms which had been sent out and
+returned filled in, and gave them to Mrs. Armstrong. One ran:
+
+     "_Kindly state what, in your opinion, is the cause of the abnormal
+     increase of crimes against women in Great Britain during the past
+     month, as shown by the annexed map_.
+
+     "NAME. Rev. William Carr,
+     "Vicar of St. Saviour's,
+     "Birmingtown.
+
+     "The recent 'discovery' in Palestine, which appears to do away with
+     the Resurrection of Christ, is in my opinion entirely responsible
+     for the increase of crime mentioned above. Now that the Incarnation
+     is on all hands said to be a myth, the greatest restraint upon
+     human passion is removed. In my district I have found that the
+     moment men give up Christ and believe in this 'discovery,' the
+     moment that the Virgin birth and the manifestation to the Magdalen
+     are dismissed as untrue, women's claim to consideration, and
+     reverence for women's chastity, in the eyes of these men disappear.
+
+          "WILLIAM CARR."
+
+Mrs. Armstrong said nothing whatever, but turned to the other form. In
+this case the name was that of a Manchester alderman, obviously a
+Jew--Moses Goldstein, of Goldstein & Hildesheimer, chemical bleachers.
+
+In a flowing business hand the following remarks were written:
+
+     "Regrettable increase of crime due in my opinion to sudden wave of
+     disbelief in Christian doctrines. Have questioned men in my own
+     works on the subject. Record this as fact without pretending to
+     understand it. Crimes of violence on increase among Jewish workmen
+     also. Probably sympathetic reaction against morality, though as a
+     strict Jew myself find this doubly distressing.
+
+          "MOSES GOLDSTEIN."
+
+"The famous philanthropist," murmured Mrs. Armstrong.
+
+The lady seemed dazed. Her usual calm volubility seemed to have deserted
+her.
+
+"This is a terrible blow," said Miss Paull, sadly, "and day by day
+things are getting worse as figures come in. It seems as if all our work
+has been in vain. Men seem to be relapsing into the state of the
+barbaric heathen world. But there is much more yet. I will read you an
+extract from Mrs. Mary P. Corbin's letter from Chicago. You will
+remember that she is the organising secretary of the United States
+branch of the League."
+
+She took up a bundle of closely typewritten sheets.
+
+     "'The Friend to Poor Girls' Society' in this city reports a most
+     painful state of things. The work has suddenly fallen to pieces and
+     become totally disorganised. Many of the girls have left the home
+     and returned to lives of prostitution--there seems to be no
+     restraining influence left. In a few cases girls have returned,
+     after two or three weeks of sin, mere wrecks of their former
+     selves. A---- S---- was a well-known girl on the streets when she
+     was converted and brought to the home. Five weeks ago she went
+     away, announcing her intention of resuming her former life. She has
+     just returned in a dying condition from brutal ill-usage. She says
+     that her former experience was nothing to what she has lately
+     endured. Her words are terribly significant: '_I went back as I
+     thought it was no use being good any more now that there isn't any
+     Jesus. I thought I'd have a good old time. But it's not as it was.
+     Hell's broke loose in the streets. The men are a million times
+     worse than they were. It's hell now._'
+
+     "Another awful blow has been struck at the purity work. The state
+     of the lower parts of Chicago and New York City has become so bad
+     that even the municipal authorities have become seriously alarmed.
+     Unmentionable orgies take place in public. Accordingly a bill is to
+     be rushed through Congress licensing so many houses of ill-fame in
+     each city ward, according to the Continental system."
+
+She laid down the letter. "There is no need to read more than extracts,"
+she said. "The letter is full of horrors. I may mention that the law
+against polygamy in the Mormon State of Utah is on the point of being
+repealed, and there can be no doubt that things will soon be as bad as
+ever there. Here is a letter from the Bishop of Toomarbin, who is at
+present in Melbourne, Australia. A Bill is preparing in the House of
+Legislature to make the divorce laws for men as easy and simple as
+possible, while women's privileges are to be greatly curtailed in this
+direction. In Rhodesia the mine-captains are beginning to flog native
+women quite unchecked by the local magistrates. English magistrates----"
+
+"Stop, dear," said Mrs. Armstrong, with a sudden gesture almost of fear.
+There was a craven, hunted look in the eyes of this well-known woman.
+Her face was blanched with pain. She sat huddled up in her chair. All
+the stately confidence was gone. That proud bearing of equality, and
+more than equality, with men, which was so noticeable a characteristic
+of her port and manner, had vanished.
+
+The white hand which lifted a cup of scalding tea to her lips trembled
+like a leaf.
+
+The sisters sat together in silence. They sat there, names famous in the
+world for courage, ability, resource. To these two, perhaps more than to
+any others in England, had been given the power of building up the great
+edifice of women's enlightened position at the present day.
+
+And now?
+
+In a moment all was changed. The brute in man was awake, unchained, and
+loose. The fires of cruelty and lust were lit, they heard the roaring of
+the fires like the roaring of wolves that "devour apace and nothing
+said."
+
+Mrs. Armstrong was terribly affected. Her keen intelligence told her at
+once of coming horrors of which these were but the earliest signs.
+
+The roaring of a great fire, louder and more menacing, nearer ...
+nearer.
+
+Christ had gone from the world never to return--Christ Whom the proud,
+wishful, worldly woman had not believed in.... They were flogging girls,
+selling girls ... the fires grew greater and greater ... nearer!
+
+          MARY, PITY WOMEN!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+CYRIL HANDS REDUX
+
+
+For the first two weeks after Hands's return he was utterly bewildered
+by the rush of events in which he must take part and had little or no
+time for thought.
+
+His days were filled by official conferences with his chiefs at the
+Exploring Society, from which important but by no means wealthy body he
+had suddenly attained more than financial security.
+
+Meeting succeeded meeting. Hands was in constant communication with the
+heads of the Church, Government, and Society. Interviewers from all the
+important papers shadowed him everywhere. Despite his protests, for he
+was a quiet and retiring man, photographers fought for him, and his
+long, somewhat melancholy face and pointed fair beard stared at him
+everywhere.
+
+He had to read papers at learned societies, and afterwards women came
+and carried him off to evening parties without possibility of escape.
+
+The Unitarians of England started a monster subscription for him, a
+subscription which grew so fast that the less sober papers began to
+estimate it day by day and to point out that the fortunate discoverer
+would be a rich man for life.
+
+Everywhere he was flattered, caressed, and made much of. In fact, he
+underwent what to some natures is the grimmest torture of a humane
+age--he became the MAN OF THE HOUR. Even by Churchmen and others most
+interested in denying the truth of the discovery, Hands was treated with
+consideration and deference. His own _bona fides_ in the matter was
+indubitable, his long and notable record forbade suspicion.
+
+Of Gortre Hands saw but little. Their greeting had been cordial, but
+there was some natural restraint, one fearing the attitude of the other.
+Gortre, no less than Hands, was much away from the chambers, and the
+pair had few confidences. Hands felt, naturally enough under the
+circumstances, that he would have been more comfortable with Spence. He
+was surprised to find him absent, but all he was able to glean was that
+the journalist had suddenly left for the Continent upon a special
+mission. Hands supposed that Continental feeling was to be thoroughly
+tested, and that the work had fallen to Spence.
+
+Meanwhile the invitations flowed in. The old staircase of the inn was
+besieged with callers. In order to escape them, Hands was forced to
+spend much time in the chambers on the other side of the landing, which
+belonged to a young barrister, Kennedy by name, who was able to put a
+spare sitting-room at his disposal. This gentleman, briefless and happy,
+was somewhat of the Dick Swiveller type, and it gave him intense
+pleasure to reconnoitre the opposite "oak" through the slit of his
+letter-box, and to report and speculate upon those who stood knocking
+for admission.
+
+How he loathed it all!
+
+The shock and surprise of it was not one of the least distressing
+features.
+
+Far away in the ancient Eastern city he had indeed realised the
+momentous nature of the strange and awful things he had found. But of
+the consequences to himself he had thought nothing, and of the effects
+on the world he had not had time to think.
+
+Hands had never wished to be celebrated. His temperament was poetic in
+essence, retiring in action. He longed to be back under the eye of the
+sun, to move among the memorials of the past with his Arab boys, to lie
+upon the beach of the Dead Sea when no airs stirred, and, suddenly, to
+hear a vast, mysterious breaker, coming from nowhere, with no visible
+cause, like some great beast crashing through the jungle.
+
+And he had exchanged all this for lunches at institutions, for hot rooms
+full of flowers and fools of women who said, "Oh, _do_ tell me all about
+your delightful discovery," smiling through their paint while the
+world's heart was breaking. And there was worse to come. At no distant
+date he would have to stand upon the platform at the Albert Hall, and
+Mr. Constantine Schuabe, M.P., Mrs. Hubert Armstrong, the writing
+woman--the whole crowd of uncongenial people--would hand him a cheque
+for some preposterous sum of money which he did not in the least want.
+There would be speeches----
+
+He was not made for this life.
+
+His own convictions of Christianity had never been thoroughly formulated
+or marked out in his brain. All that was mystical in the great history
+of Christ had always attracted him. He took an aesthetic pleasure in the
+beautiful story. To him more than to most men it had become a vivid
+_panoramic_ vision. The background and accessories had been part of his
+daily life for years. It was as the figure of King Arthur and his old
+knights might be to some loving student of Malory.
+
+And although his life was pure, his actions gentle and blameless, it had
+always been thus to him--a lovely and poetic picture and no more. He
+had never made a personal application of it to himself. His heart had
+never been touched, and he had never heard the Divine Voice calling to
+him.
+
+At the end of a fortnight Hands found that he could stand the strain no
+longer. His nerves were failing him; there was a constant babble of
+meaningless voices in his ear which took all the zest and savour from
+life. His doctor told him quite unmistakably that he was doing too much,
+that he was not inured to this gaiety, and that he must go away to some
+solitude by the sea and rest.
+
+The advice not only coincided with his own wishes, but made them
+possible. A good many engagements were cancelled, a paragraph appeared
+in the newspapers to say that Mr. Hands's medical adviser had insisted
+upon a thorough rest, and the man of the moment disappeared. Save only
+Gortre and the secretary of the Exploring Society, no one knew of his
+whereabouts.
+
+In a week he was forgotten. Greater things began to animate
+Society--harsh, terrible, ugly things. There was no time to think of
+Hands, the instrument which had brought them about.
+
+The doctor had recommended the remotest parts of Cornwall. Standing in
+his comfortable room at Harley Street, he expatiated, with an
+enthusiastic movement of his hand, upon the peace to be found in that
+lost country of frowning rocks and bottle-green seas, where, so far is
+it from the great centres of action, men still talk of "going into
+England" as if it were an enterprise, an adventure.
+
+Two days found him at a lonely fishing cove, rather than village,
+lodging in the house of a coast-guard, not far from Saint Ives.
+
+A few whitewashed houses ran down to the beach of the little natural
+harbour where the boats were sheltered.
+
+On the shores of the little "Porth," as it was called, the fishermen sat
+about with sleepy, vacant eyes, waiting for the signal of watchmen on
+the moor above--the shrill Cornish cry of "Ubba!" "Ubba!" which would
+tell them the mackerel were in sight.
+
+Behind the cove, running inland, were the vast, lonely moors which run
+between the Atlantic and the Channel. It is always grey and sad upon
+these rolling solitudes, sad and silent. The glory of summer gorse had
+not yet clothed them with a fleeting warmth and hospitality. As far as
+the eye could reach they stretched away with a forlorn immensity that
+struck cold to Hands's heart. Peace was here indeed, but how austere!
+quiet, but what a brooding and cruel silence!
+
+Every now and again the roving eye, in its search for incident and
+colour, was caught and arrested by the bleak engine-house of some
+ancient deserted mine and the gaunt chimney which pointed like a leaden
+finger to the stormy skies above. Great humming winds swept over the
+moor, driving flocks of Titanic clouds, an Olympian army in rout, before
+their fierce breath.
+
+Here, day by day, Hands took his solitary walk, or sometimes he would
+sit sheltered in a hollow of the jagged volcanic rocks which set round
+about the cove a barrier of jagged teeth. Down below him a hard, green
+sea boiled and seethed in an agony of fierce unrest. The black
+cormorants in the middle distance dived for their cold prey. The
+sea-birds were tossed on the currents of the wild air, calling to each
+other with forlorn, melancholy voices. This remote Western world
+resounded with the powerful voices of the waves; night and day the gongs
+of Neptune's anger were sounding.
+
+In the afternoon a weary postman tramped over the moor. He brought the
+London newspapers of the day before, and Hands read them with a strange
+subjective sensation of spectatorship.
+
+So far away was he from the world that by a paradox of psychology he
+viewed its turmoil with a clearer eye. As poetry is emotion remembered
+in tranquillity, as a painter often prefers to paint a great canvas from
+studies and memory--quiet in his studio--rather than from the actual but
+too kinetic scene, so Hands as he read the news-sheets felt and lived
+the story they had to tell far more acutely than in London.
+
+He had more time to think about what he read. It was in this lost corner
+of the world that the chill began to creep over him.
+
+The furious sounds of Nature clamoured in his ears, assaulting them like
+strongholds; these were the objective sounds.
+
+But as his subjective brain grew clear the words his eyes conveyed to it
+filled it with a more awful reverberation.
+
+The awful weight grew. He began to realise with terrible distinctness
+_the consequences_ of his discovery. They stunned him. A carved
+inscription, a crumbling tomb in half an acre of waste ground. He had
+stumbled upon so much and little more. _He_, Cyril Hands, had found
+this.
+
+His straining eyes day by day turned to the columns of the papers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+     ALL YE INHABITANTS OF THE WORLD, AND DWELLERS ON THE EARTH, SEE YE,
+     WHEN HE LIFTETH UP AN ENSIGN ON THE MOUNTAINS.--ISAIAH XVIII: 3
+
+
+Hands awoke to terrible realisation.
+
+The telegrams in the newspapers provided him with a bird's-eye view, an
+epitomised summary of a world in tumult.
+
+Out of a wealth of detail, culled from innumerable telegrams and
+articles, certain facts stood out clearly.
+
+In the Balkan States, always in unrest, a crisis, graver than ever
+before, suddenly came about. The situation _flared_ up like a petrol
+explosion.
+
+A great revival of Mohammedan enthusiasm had begun to spread from
+Jerusalem as soon as Europe had more or less definitely accepted the
+discovery made by Cyril Hands and confirmed by the international
+committee.
+
+It was no longer possible to hold the troops of the Sultan in check. It
+was openly said by the correspondents that _instructions_ had been sent
+from Yildiz Kiosk to the provincial Valis in both European and Asiatic
+Turkey that Christians were to be exterminated, swept for ever from the
+world.
+
+Telegrams of dire importance filled the columns of the papers.
+
+Hands would read in one _Daily Wire_:
+
+     "PARIS (_From our own Correspondent_).--The Prince of Bulgaria has
+     indefinitely postponed his departure, and remains at the Hotel Ritz
+     for the present. It is impossible for him to progress beyond
+     Vienna. Dr. Daneff, the Bulgarian Premier, has arrived here. In the
+     course of an interview with a representative of _Le Matin_ he has
+     stated the only hope of saving the Christians remaining in the
+     Balkan States lies in the intervention of Russia. 'The situation,'
+     Dr. Daneff is reported to have said, 'has assumed the appearance of
+     a religious war. The followers of Islam are drunk with triumph and
+     hatred of the "Nazarenes." The recent discoveries in Jerusalem
+     simply mean a licence to sweep Christians out of existence. The
+     exulting cries of "Ashahadu, la ilaha ill Allah" have already
+     sounded the death-knell of our ancient faith in Bulgaria.' M.
+     Daneff was extremely affected during the interview, and states that
+     Prince Ferdinand is unable to leave his room."
+
+Never before in the history of Eastern Europe had the future appeared so
+gloomy or the present been so replete with horror.
+
+The massacres of bygone years were as nothing to those which were daily
+flashed over the wires to startle and appal a world which was still
+Christian, at least in name.
+
+An extract from a leading article in the _Daily Wire_ shows that the
+underlying reason and cause was thoroughly appreciated and understood in
+England no less than abroad.
+
+     "In this labyrinth of myth and murder," the article said, "a
+     sudden and spontaneous outburst of hatred, of Mussulman hatred for
+     the Christian, has now--owing to the overthrow of the chief
+     accepted doctrine of the Christian faith--become a deliberate
+     measure of extermination adopted by a barbarous Government as the
+     simplest solution of the problem in the Near East. The stupendous
+     fact which has lately burst upon the world has had effects which,
+     while they might have been anticipated in some degree, have already
+     passed far beyond the bounds of the most confirmed political
+     pessimist's dream.
+
+     "From the _fact_ of the Jerusalem discovery, ambitious agitators
+     have hurried to draw their profit. Politicians have not hesitated
+     to provoke a series of massacres, and by playing upon the worst
+     forms of Mussulman fanaticism to organise that ghastliest system of
+     crime upon the largest and most comprehensive scale. The whole
+     thing is, moreover, immensely complicated by the utter
+     unscrupulousness of that association universally notorious as the
+     Macedonian Committee. These people, who may be described as a
+     company of aspirants to the crown of immortality earned by other
+     people's martyrdom, have themselves assisted in the work of
+     lighting the fires of Turkish passion, and they have helped to
+     provoke atrocities which will enable them to pose before the eyes
+     of the civilised world as the interesting victims of Moslem
+     ferocity."
+
+Thus Hands read in his rock cave above the boiling winter sea. Thus and
+much more, as the cloud grew darker and darker over Eastern Europe,
+darker and darker day by day.
+
+In a week it became plain to the world that Bulgarians, Servians, and
+Armenians alike had collapsed utterly before the insolent exultation of
+the Turks. The spirit of resistance and enthusiasm had gone. The
+ignorant and tortured peoples had no answer for those who flung foul
+insults at the Cross.
+
+As reflected in the newspapers, the public mind in England was becoming
+seriously alarmed at these horrible and daily bulletins, but neither
+Parliament nor people were as yet ready with a suggested course of
+action. The forces of disintegration had been at work; it seemed no
+longer possible to secure a great _body_ of opinion as in the old times.
+And Englishmen were troubled with grave domestic problems also. More
+especially the great increase of the worst forms of crime attracted
+universal attention and dismay.
+
+Then news came which shook the whole country to its depths. Men began to
+look into each other's eyes and ask what these things might mean.
+
+Hands read:
+
+     "Our special correspondent in Bombay telegraphs disquieting news
+     from India. The native regiments in Bengal are becoming difficult
+     to handle. The officers of the staff corps are making special
+     reports to headquarters. Three native officers of the 100th Bengal
+     Lancers have been placed under arrest, though no particulars as to
+     the exact reason for this step have been allowed to transpire."
+
+This first guarded intimation of serious disaffection in India was
+followed, two days afterwards, by longer and far more serious reports.
+The Indian mail arrived with copies of _The Madras Mail_ and _The Times
+of India_, which disclosed much more than had hitherto come over the
+cables.
+
+Long extracts were printed from these journals in the English dailies.
+
+Epitomised, Hands learned the following facts. From a mass of detail a
+few lurid facts remained fixed in his brain.
+
+The well-meant but frequently unsuccessful mission efforts in Southern
+India were brought to a complete and utter stand-still.
+
+By that thought-willed system of communication and the almost flame-like
+mouth-to-mouth carnage of news which is so inexplicable to Western
+minds, who can only understand the workings of the electric telegraph,
+the whole of India seemed to be throbbing with the news of the downfall
+of Christianity, and this within a fortnight of the publication of the
+European report.
+
+From Cashmere to Travancore the millions whispered the news to each
+other with fierce if secret exultation.
+
+The higher Hinduism, the key to the native character in India, the wall
+of caste, rose up grim and forbidding. The passionate earnestness of the
+missionaries was met by questions they could not answer. In a few days
+the work of years seemed utterly undone.
+
+Europeans began to be insulted in the Punjaub as they had never been
+since the days before the Mutiny. English officers and civilians also
+began to send their wives home. The great P. and O. boats were
+inconveniently crowded.
+
+In Afghanistan there was a great uneasiness. The Emir had received two
+Russian officers. Russian troops were massing on the north-west
+frontier. Fanatics began to appear in the Hill provinces, claiming
+divine missions. People began to remember that every fourth man, woman,
+and child in the whole human race is a Buddhist. Asia began to feel a
+great thrill of excitement permeating it through and through. There were
+rumours of a new incarnation of Buddha, who would lead his followers to
+the conquest of the West.
+
+Troops from all over India began to concentrate near the Sri Ulang Pass
+in the Hindu-Kush.
+
+Simultaneously with these ominous rumours of war came an extraordinary
+outburst of Christian fanaticism in Russia. The peasantry burst into a
+flame of anger against England. The priests of the Greek Church not only
+refused to believe in the Palestine discovery, but they refused to
+ignore it, as the Roman Catholics of the world were endeavouring to do.
+
+They began to preach war against Great Britain for its infidelity, and
+the political Powers seized the opportunity to use religious fanaticism
+for their own ends.
+
+All these events happened with appalling _swiftness_.
+
+In the remote Cornish village Hands moved as in a dream. His eyes saw
+nothing of his surroundings, his face was pallid under the brown of his
+skin. Sometimes, as he sat alone on the moors or by the sea, he laughed
+loudly. Once a passing coast-guard heard him. The man told of it among
+the fishermen, and they regarded their silent visitor with something of
+awe, with the Celtic compassion for those mentally afflicted.
+
+On the first Sunday of his arrival Hands heard the deep singing of hymns
+coming from the little white chapel on the cliff. He entered in time for
+the sermon, which was preached by a minister who had walked over from
+Penzance.
+
+Here all the turmoil of the world beyond was ignored. It seemed as
+though nothing had ever been heard of the thing that was shaking the
+world. The pastor preached and prayed, the men and women answered with
+deep, groaning "Amens." It all mattered nothing to them. They heeded it
+no more than the wailing wind in the cove. The voice of Christ was not
+stilled in the hearts of this little congregation of the Faithful.
+
+This chilled the recluse. He could find no meaning or comfort in it.
+
+That evening he heard the daughter of the coast-guard with whom he
+lodged singing. It was a wild night, and Hands was sitting by the fire
+in his little sitting-room. Outside the wind and rain and waves were
+shouting furiously in the dark.
+
+The girl was playing a few simple chords on the harmonium and singing to
+them.
+
+"For ever with the Lord."
+
+An untuneful voice, louder than need be, but with what conviction!
+
+Hands tried to fix his attention on the newspaper which he held.
+
+He read that in Rhodesia the mine capitalists were moving for slavery
+pure and simple. It was proposed openly that slavery should be the
+penalty for law-breaking for natives. This was the only way, it
+asserted, by which the labour problem in South Africa could be solved.
+
+    "Life from the dead is in that word,
+      'Tis immortality."
+
+It seemed that there was small opposition to this proposal. It would be
+the best thing for the Kaffir, perhaps, this wise and kindly discipline.
+So the proposal was wrapped up.
+
+    "And nightly pitch my moving tent
+      A day's march nearer home."
+
+Hands saw that, quite suddenly, the _old horror of slavery had
+disappeared_.
+
+This, too, was coming, then? This old horror which Christians had
+banished from the world?
+
+    "So when my latest breath
+      Shall rend the veil in twain."
+
+Hands started. His thoughts came back to the house in which he sat. The
+girl's voice touched him immeasurably. He heard it clearly in a lull of
+the storm. Then another tremendous gust of wind drowned it.
+
+Two great tears rolled down his cheeks.
+
+It was midnight, and all the people in the house were long since asleep,
+when Hands picked up the last of his newspapers.
+
+It was Saturday's edition of the _London Daily Mercury_, the powerful
+rival of the _Wire_. A woman who had been to Penzance market had brought
+it home for him, otherwise he would have had to wait for it until the
+Monday morning.
+
+He gazed wearily round the homely room.
+
+Weariness, that was what lay heavy over mind and body--an utter
+weariness.
+
+The firelight played upon the crude pictures, the simple ornaments, the
+ship worked in worsted when the coast-guard was a boy in the Navy, the
+shells from a Pacific island, a model gun under a glass shade. But his
+thoughts were not prisoned by these humble walls and the humble room in
+which he sat. He heard the groaning of the peoples of the world, the
+tramp of armies, the bitter cry of souls from whom hope had been plucked
+for ever.
+
+He remembered the fair morning in Jerusalem when, with the earliest
+light of dawn, he had gone to work with his Arab boys before the heat of
+the day.
+
+From the Mosque of Omar he had heard the sonorous chant of the muezzin.
+
+    "THE NIGHT HAS GONE WITH THE DARKNESS, AND THE DAY APPROACHES WITH
+        LIGHT AND BRIGHTNESS!
+    "PRAISE GOD FOR SECURING HIS FAVOUR AND KINDNESS!
+    "GOD IS MOST GREAT! GOD IS MOST GREAT! I TESTIFY THAT THERE IS NO
+        GOD BUT GOD!
+    "I TESTIFY THAT MOHAMMED IS THE APOSTLE OF GOD!
+    "COME TO PRAYER!
+    "COME TO SECURITY!
+    "PRAYER IS BETTER THAN SLEEP!
+    "GOD IS MOST GREAT!
+    "THERE IS NO GOD BUT GOD!
+    "ARISE, MAKE MORNING, AND TO GOD BE THE PRAISE!"
+
+He had heard the magnificent chant as he passed by, almost kneeling with
+his Arabs. So short a time ago! Hardly three months--he had kept no
+count of time lately, but it could hardly be four months.
+
+How utterly unconscious he had been on that radiant morning outside the
+Damascus Gate! He had seen the men at work, and was sitting under his
+sun-tent writing on his pad; he was just lighting a cigarette, he
+remembered, when Ionides, the foreman, had come running up to him, his
+shrewd, brown face wrinkled with excitement.
+
+And now, even as he sat there on that stormy midnight, far from the
+world, even now the whole globe was echoing and reverberating with his
+discovery. He had opened the little rock chambers, and it seemed that
+the blows of the picks had set free a troop of ruinous spirits, who were
+devastating mankind.
+
+Pandora's box--that legend fitted what he had done, but with a deadly
+difference.
+
+He could not find that Hope remained. It would have been better a
+thousand times if the hot Eastern sun had struck him down that distant
+morning on his way through the city.
+
+The awful weight, the initial responsibility rested with _him_.
+
+_He_ alone had been the means by which the world was being shaken with
+horrors--horrors growing daily, and that seemed as if the end would be
+unutterable night.
+
+How the wind shrieked and wailed!
+
+    =Ego Ioseph ho apo Arimatheias.=
+
+The words were written in fire on his mind!
+
+The wind was shrieking louder and louder.
+
+The Atlantic boomed in one continuous burst of sound.
+
+He looked once more at the leading article in the paper.
+
+It was that article which was long afterwards remembered as the "Simple
+Statement" article.
+
+The writer had spoken the thought that was by this time trembling for
+utterance on the lips and in the brains of all Englishmen--the thought
+which had never been so squarely faced, so frankly stated before.
+
+Here and there passages started out more vividly than the rest. The
+words seemed to start out and stab him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+     "--So much for INDIA, where, sprung from the same Cause, the
+     indications are impossible to mistake.
+
+     "Let us now turn to the ANGLO-SAXON sprung communities other than
+     these Islands.
+
+     "In AMERICA we find a wave of lawlessness and fierce riot passing
+     over the country, such as it has never known before.
+
+     "The IRISHMEN and ITALIANS, who throng the congested quarters of
+     the great cities, are robbing and murdering PROTESTANTS and JEWS.
+     The UNITED STATES Legislature is paralysed between the necessity of
+     keeping order and the impossibility of resolution in the face of
+     this tremendous _bouleversement_ of belief.
+
+     "From AUSTRALIA the foremost prelate of the great country writes of
+     the utter overthrow of a communal moral sense, and concludes his
+     communication with the following pathetic words:
+
+     "_'Everywhere,'_ he says, _'I see morals, no less than the religion
+     which inculcates them, falling into neglect, set aside in a spirit
+     of despair by fathers and mothers, treated with contempt by youths
+     and maidens, spat upon and cursed by a degraded populace, assailed
+     with eager sarcasm by the polite and cultured.'_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "The terrible seriousness of the situation need hardly be further
+    insisted on here. Its reality cannot be more vividly indicated than
+    by the statement of a single fact.
+
+    "CONSOLS ARE DOWN TO SIXTY-FIVE
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "--and therefore we demand, in the name of humanity, a far more
+    comprehensive and representative searching into the facts of the
+    alleged 'discovery' at JERUSALEM. Society is falling to pieces as we
+    write.
+
+    "Who will deny the reason?
+
+    "Already, after a few short weeks, we are learning that the world
+    cannot go on without Christianity. That is the Truth which the world
+    is forced to realise. And no essay in sociology, no special pleading
+    on the part of Scientists or Historians, can shake our conviction
+    that a creed which, when sudden doubts are thrown upon it, can be
+    the means of destroying the essential fabric of human society, is
+    not the true and unassailable creed of mankind.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "We foresee an immediate reaction. The consequences of the wave of
+    antichristian belief are now, and will be, so devastating, that sane
+    men will find in Disbelief and its consequences a glorious
+    recrudescence and assurance of Faith."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Hands stared into the dying fire.
+
+A solemn passage from John Bright's great speech on the Crimean War came
+into his mind. The plangent power and deep earnestness of the words were
+even more applicable now than then.
+
+     _"The Angel of Death has been abroad throughout the land: you may
+     almost hear the beating of his wings. There is no one, as when the
+     first-born were slain of old, to sprinkle with blood the lintel and
+     two side-posts of our doors, that he may spare and pass on."_
+
+So they were asking for another commission! Well, they might try that as
+a forlorn hope, but _he knew_ that his discovery was real. Could _he_ be
+mistaken possibly? Could that congress of the learned be all mistaken
+and imposed upon? It was not possible. It could not be. Would that it
+_were_ possible.
+
+There was no hope, despite the newspapers. For centuries the world had
+been living in a fool's paradise. He had destroyed it. It would be a
+hundred years before the echoes of his deed had died away.
+
+But the terrible weight of the world's burden was too heavy for him to
+bear. He knew that. Not for much longer could he endure it.
+
+The life seemed oozing out of him, pressed out by a weight--the
+sensation was physical.
+
+He wished it was all over. He had no hope for the future, and no fear.
+
+The weight was too heavy. The outside dark came through the walls, and
+began to close in on him. His heart beat loudly. It seemed to rise up in
+his throat and choke him.
+
+The pressure grew each moment; mountains were being piled upon him,
+heavier, more heavy.
+
+The wind was but a distant murmur now, but the weight was crushing him.
+Only a few more moments and his heart would burst. _At last!_
+
+The dark thing huddled on the hearth-rug, which the girl found when she
+came down in the morning, was the scholar's body.
+
+The newspaper he had been reading lay upon his chest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+A LUNCHEON PARTY
+
+
+Constantine Schuabe's great room at the Hotel Cecil had been entirely
+refurnished and arranged for the winter months.
+
+The fur of great Arctic beasts lay upon the heavy Teheran carpets, which
+had replaced the summer matting--furs of enormous value. The dark red
+curtains which hung by windows and over doors were worked with threads
+of dull gold.
+
+All the chairs were more massive in material and upholstered warmly in
+soft leather; the logs in the fireplace crackled with white flame,
+amethyst in the glowing cavern beneath.
+
+However the winter winds might sweep over the Thames below or the rain
+splash and welter on the Embankment, no sound or sign of the turmoil
+could reach or trouble the people who moved in the fragrant warmth and
+comfort of this room.
+
+For his own part Schuabe never gave any attention to the _mise-en-scene_
+by which he was surrounded, here or elsewhere. The head of a famous
+Oxford Street firm was told to call with his artists and undermen; he
+was given to understand that the best that could be done was to be done,
+and the matter was left entirely to him.
+
+In this there was nothing of the _parvenu_ or of an ignorance of art, as
+far as Schuabe was concerned. He was a man of catholic and cultured
+taste. But experience had taught him that his furnishing firm were
+trained to be catholic and cultured also, that an artist would see to it
+that no jarring notes appeared. And since he knew this, Schuabe
+infinitely preferred not to be bothered with details. In absolute
+contrast to Llwellyn, his mind was always busy with abstractions, with
+thought and forms of thought, things that cannot be handled or seen.
+They were the real things for him always.
+
+The millionaire sat alone by the glowing fire. He was wearing a long
+gown of camel's hair, dyed crimson, confined round the waist by a
+crimson cord. In this easy garment and a pair of morocco slippers
+without heels, he looked singularly Eastern. The whole face and figure
+suggested that--sinister, lonely, and splendid.
+
+The morning papers were resting on a chair by his side. He was reading
+one of them.
+
+It announced the death from heart disease of Mr. Cyril Hands while
+taking a few days' rest in a remote village of Cornwall. Not a shadow of
+regret passed over the regular, impassive face. The eyes remained in
+fixed thought. He was logically going over the bearings of this event in
+his mind. How could it affect _him_? _Would_ it affect him one way or
+the other?
+
+He paced the long room slowly. On the whole the incident seemed without
+meaning for him. If it meant anything at all it meant that his position
+was stronger than ever. The voice of the discoverer was now for ever
+silent. His testimony, his reluctant but convinced opinion, was upon
+record. Nothing could alter that. Hands might perhaps have had doubts in
+the future. He might have examined more keenly into the _way in which he
+came to examine the ground_ where the new tomb was hidden. Yes, this was
+better. That danger, remote as it had been, was over.
+
+As his eyes wandered over the rest of the news columns they became more
+alert, speculative, and anxious. The world was in a tumult, which grew
+louder and louder every hour. Thrones were rocking, dynasties trembling.
+
+He sank down in his chair with a sigh, passing his hand wearily over his
+face. Who could have foreseen this? It was beyond belief. He gazed at
+the havoc and ruin in terrified surprise, as a child might who had lit a
+little fire of straw, which had grown and devoured a great city.
+
+It was in this very room--just over there in the centre--that he had
+bought the brain and soul of the archaeologist.
+
+The big man had stood exactly on that spot, blanched and trembling. His
+miserable notes of hand and promises to pay had flamed up in this fire.
+
+And now? India was slipping swiftly away; a bloody civil war was brewing
+in America; Central Europe was a smouldering torch; the whips of Africa
+were cracking in the ears of Englishmen; the fortunes of thousands were
+melting away like ice in the sun. In London gentlemen were going from
+their clubs to their houses at night carrying pistols and sword-sticks.
+North of Holborn, south of the Thames, no woman was safe after dark had
+fallen.
+
+He saw his face in an oval silver glass. It fascinated him as it had
+never done before. He gripped the leather back of a chair and stared
+fiercely, hungrily, at the image. It was _this_, this man he was
+looking at, some stranger it seemed, who had done all this. He
+laughed--a dreadful, mirthless, hollow laugh. This mass of phosphates,
+carbon, and water, this moving, talking thing in a scarlet gown, was the
+pivot on which the world was turning!
+
+His brain became darkened for a time, lost in an awful wonder. He could
+not realise or understand.
+
+And no one knew save his partner and instrument. _No one knew!_
+
+The secret seemed to be bursting and straining within him like some
+live, terrible creature that longed to rush into light. For weeks the
+haunting thought had grown and harassed him. It rang like bells in his
+memory. If only he could share his own dark knowledge. He wanted to take
+some calm, pale woman, to hold her tight and tell her all that he had
+done, to whisper it into her ears and watch the mask of flesh change and
+shrink, to see his words carve deep furrows in it, sear the eyes, burn
+the colour from the lips. He saw his own face was working with the mad
+violence of his imaginings.
+
+He _wrenched_ his brain back into normal grooves, as an engineer pulls
+over a lever. He was half-conscious of the simile as he did so.
+
+Turning away from the mirror, he shuddered as a man who has escaped from
+a sudden danger.
+
+_That_ above all things was fatal. His luxuriant Eastern imagination had
+been checked and kept in subjection all his life; the force of his
+intellect had tamed and starved it. He knew, none better, the end, the
+extinction of the brain that has got beyond control. No, come what may,
+he must watch himself cunningly that he did not succumb. A tiny speck in
+the brain, and then good-bye to thought and life for ever. He was a
+visitor of the Lancashire Asylum--had been so once at least--and he had
+seen the soulless lumps of flesh the doctors called "patients." ... "_I
+am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul_," he repeated
+to himself, and even as he did so, his other self sneered at the
+weakness which must comfort itself with a poet's rhyme and cling to an
+apothegm for readjustment.
+
+He tried to shut out the world's alarm from his mental eyes and ears.
+
+He went back to the scenes of his first triumph. They had been sweet
+indeed.
+
+Yes! worth all the price he had paid and might be called upon to pay.
+
+All over England his life's thought, his constant programme had been
+gloriously vindicated. They had hailed him as the prophet of Truth at
+first--a prophet who had cried in the wilderness for years, and who had
+at last come into his own.
+
+The voices of great men and vast multitudes had come to him as incense.
+He was to be the leader of the new religion of common sense. Why had
+they doubted him before, led away by the old superstitions?
+
+Men who had hated and feared him in the old days, had spoken against him
+and his doctrines as if both were abhorred and unclean, were his friends
+and servants now. Christians had humbled themselves to the
+representative of the new power. Bishops had consulted him as to the
+saving of the Church, and its reconstruction upon "newer, broader, more
+illuminated lines." They had come to him with fear--anxious, eager to
+confess the errors of the past, swift to flatter and suggest that, with
+his help, the fabric and political power of the Church might yet stand.
+
+He was shown, with furtive eyes and hesitating lips, from which the
+shame had not yet been cleansed, how desirable and necessary it was that
+in the reconstruction of Christianity the Church should still have a
+prominent and influential part.
+
+He had been a colossus among them all. But--and he thought of it with
+anger and the old amazement--all this had been _at first_, when the
+discovery had flashed over a startled world. While the thing was new it
+had been a great question, truly the greatest of all, but it had been
+one which affected men's minds and not their bodies. That is speaking of
+the world at large.
+
+As has already been pointed out, only _religious_ people--a vast host,
+but small beside the mass of Englishmen--were disturbed seriously by
+what had happened. The price of bread remained the same; beef was no
+dearer.
+
+During these first weeks Schuabe had been all-powerful. He and his
+friends had lived in a constant and stupendous triumph.
+
+But now--and in his frightful egoism he frowned at the thick black
+head-lines in the newspapers--the whole attitude of every one was
+changed. There was a reflex action, and in the noise it made Schuabe was
+forgotten.
+
+Men had more to think of now. There was no time to congratulate the man
+who had been so splendidly right.
+
+_Consols were at 65!_
+
+Bread was rising each week. War was imminent. On all sides great
+mercantile houses were crashing. Each fall meant a thousand minor
+catastrophes all over the country.
+
+The antichristians had no time to jeer at the Faithful; they must work
+and strain to save their own fortunes from the wreck.
+
+The mob, who were swiftly bereft of the luxuries which kept them in
+good-humour, were turning on the antichristian party now. In their
+blind, selfish unreason they cried them down, saying that they were
+responsible for the misery and terror that lay over the world.
+
+With an absolute lack of logic, the churches were crowded again. The
+most irreligious cried for the good old times. Those who had most
+coarsely exulted over the broken Cross now bewailed it as the most awful
+of calamities.
+
+Christianity was daily being terribly avenged through the pockets and
+stomachs of the crowd!
+
+It was bizarre beyond thinking, sordid in its immensity, vulgar in its
+mighty soulless greed, but TRUE, REAL, a FEARFUL FACT.
+
+A stupendous _confusion_.
+
+Two great currents had met in a maelstrom. The din of the disturbance
+beat upon the world's ear with sickening clamour.
+
+Louder and louder, day by day.
+
+And the man who had done all this, the brain which had called up these
+legions from hell, which had loosed these fiery sorrows on mankind, was
+in a rich room in a luxurious hotel, alone there. Again the shock and
+marvel took hold of the man and shook him like a reed.
+
+There was a round table, covered with a gleaming white cloth, by the
+fire. The kidneys in the silver dish were cold, the grease had
+congealed. The silent servants had brought up a breakfast to him. He had
+watched their clever, automatic movements. Did they know _whom_ they
+were attending on, what would happen--?
+
+His thoughts flashed hither and thither, now surveying a world in
+torture, now weaving a trivial and whimsical romance about a waiter. The
+frightful activity of his brain, inflamed by thoughts beyond the power
+of even that wonderful machine, began to have a consuming physical
+effect.
+
+He felt the grey matter bubbling. Agonising pains shot from temple to
+temple, little knives seemed hacking at the back of his eyes. Once
+again, in a wave of unutterable terror, the fear of madness submerged
+him.
+
+On this second occasion he was unable to recall his composure by any
+effort which came from within himself. He stumbled into his adjoining
+dressing-room and selected a bottle from a shelf. It was bromide of
+potassium, which he had been taking of late to deaden the clamour and
+vibration of his nerves.
+
+In half an hour the drug had calmed him. His face was very pale, but set
+and rigid. The storm was over. He felt shattered by its violence, but in
+an artificial peace.
+
+He took a cigarette.
+
+As he was lighting it his valet entered and announced that Mr. Dawlish,
+his man of business, was waiting in an anteroom.
+
+He ordered that he should be shown in.
+
+Mr. Dawlish was the junior partner of the well-known firm of city
+solicitors, Burrington & Tuite. That was his official description. In
+effect he was Schuabe's principal man of business. All his time was
+taken up by the millionaire's affairs all over England.
+
+He came in quickly--a tall, well-dressed man, hair thin on the forehead,
+moustache carefully trained.
+
+"You look very unwell, Mr. Schuabe," he said, with a keen glance. "Don't
+let these affairs overwhelm you. Nothing is so dangerous as to let the
+nerves go in times like these."
+
+Schuabe started.
+
+"How are things, Dawlish?" he said.
+
+"Very shaky, very shaky, indeed. The shares of the Budapest Railway are
+to be bought for a shilling. I am afraid your investments in that
+concern are utterly lost. When the Bourses closed last night dealings in
+Foreign Government Stock were at a stand-still. Turkish C and O bonds
+are worthless."
+
+Again the millionaire started. "You bring me a record of disaster," he
+said.
+
+"Baumann went yesterday," continued the level voice.
+
+"My cousin," said Schuabe.
+
+"The worst of it is that the situation is getting worse and worse. We
+have, as you know, made enormous efforts. But all attempts you have made
+to uphold your securities have only been throwing money away. The last
+fortnight has been frightful. More than two hundred thousand pounds have
+gone. In fact, an ordinary man would be ruined by the last month or two.
+Your position is better because of the real property in the Manchester
+mills."
+
+"Trade has almost ceased."
+
+"Close the mills down and wait. You cannot go on."
+
+"If I do, ten thousand men will be let loose on the city with nothing
+but the Union funds to fall back on."
+
+"If you don't, you will be what Baumann is to-day--a bankrupt."
+
+"I have eighty thousand cash on deposit at the Bank of England."
+
+"And if you throw that away after the rest you will be done for. You
+don't realise the situation. It _can't_ recover. War is inevitable.
+India will go, I feel it. England is going to turn into a camp. Religion
+is the pretext of war everywhere. Take your money from the Bank in cash
+and lock it up in the Safe Deposit strong rooms. Keep that sum, earning
+nothing, for emergencies, then wait for the other properties to recover.
+It will be years perhaps, but you will win through in the end. The
+freehold sites of the mills are alone worth almost anything. It is only
+_paper_ millionaires that are easily ruined. You are a great property
+owner. But you must walk very warily, even you. Who could have foreseen
+all this? I see that fellow Hands is dead--couldn't stand the sight of
+the mischief he'd done, I suppose. The fool! the eternal fool! why
+couldn't he have kept his sham discovery to himself? Look at the
+unutterable misery it has brought on the world."
+
+"You yourself, Dawlish, are you suffering the common fate?"
+
+"I? Certainly not! That is to say, I suffer of course, but not fatally.
+All my investments are in buildings in safe quarters. I may have to
+reduce rents for a year or two, but my houses will not be empty. And
+they are my own."
+
+"Fortunate man," said Schuabe; "but why _sham_ discovery?"
+
+"Out of business hours," said the solicitor, with some stiffness and
+hesitation, "I am a Roman Catholic, Mr. Schuabe. Good-morning. I will
+send the transfer round for you to sign."
+
+The cool, machine-like man went away. The millionaire knew that his
+fortune was tottering, but it moved him little. He knew that his power
+in the country was nearly over, had dwindled to nothing in the stir of
+greater things around. Money was only useful as a means of power, and
+with a sure prescience he saw that he would never regain his old
+position.
+
+The hour was over.
+
+Whatever would be the outcome of these great affairs, the hour was past
+and over.
+
+The one glowing thought which burned within him, and seemed to be eating
+out his life, was the awful knowledge that he and no other man had set
+in motion this terrible machinery which was grinding up the civilised
+world.
+
+Day and night from that there was no relief.
+
+His valet again entered and reminded his master that some people were
+coming to lunch. He went away and began to dress with the man's help.
+
+The guests were only two in number. One was Ommaney, the editor of the
+_Daily Wire_, the other Mrs. Hubert Armstrong.
+
+Both the lady and gentleman came in together at about two o'clock.
+
+Mrs. Armstrong was much changed in appearance. Her face had lost its
+serenity; her manner was quick and anxious; her voice strained.
+
+The slim, quiet editor, on the other hand, seemed to be untouched by
+worry. Quiet and inscrutable as ever, the only change in him, perhaps,
+was a slight briskness, an aroma rather than an actual expression of
+good humour and _bien-etre_.
+
+They sat down to the meal. Schuabe, in his dark grey frock-coat, the
+careful _ensemble_ of his dress no less than the regular beauty of his
+face--now smooth and calm--seemed to be beyond all mundane cares. Only
+the lady was ill at ease.
+
+The conversation at first was all of the actual news of the day, as it
+had appeared in the morning's newspapers. Hands's death was discussed.
+"Poor fellow!" said Mrs. Armstrong, with a sigh; "it is sad to think of
+his sudden ending. The burden was too much for him to bear. I can
+understand it when I look round upon all that is happening; it is
+terrible!"
+
+"Surely you do not regret the discovery of the truth?" said Schuabe,
+quickly.
+
+"I am beginning to fear truth," said the lady. "The world, it seems, was
+not ripe for it. In a hundred years, perhaps, our work would have paved
+the way. But it is premature. Look at the chaos all around us. The
+public has ceased to think or read. They are reading nothing. Three
+publishers have put up the shutters during the week."
+
+The journalist interrupted with a dry chuckle. "They are reading the
+_Daily Wire_," he said; "the circulation is almost doubled." He sent a
+congratulatory glance to Schuabe.
+
+The millionaire's great holding in the paper was a secret known only to
+a few. In the stress of greater affairs he had half forgotten it. A
+swift feeling of relief crossed his brain as he realised what this meant
+to his tottering fortunes.
+
+"Poor Hands!" said the editor, "he was a nice fellow. Rather unpractical
+and dreamy, but a nice fellow. Owing to him we had the greatest chance
+that any paper has ever had in the history of journalism. We owe him a
+great debt. The present popularity and influence of the paper has
+dwarfed, positively dwarfed, all its rivals. I have given the poor
+fellow three columns to-day; I wish I could do more."
+
+"Do you not think, Mr. Ommaney," asked Mrs. Armstrong, "that in the
+enormous publication of telegrams and political foreign news, the
+glorious fact that the world has at last awakened to a knowledge of the
+glorious truths of real religion is being swamped and forgotten? After
+all, what will be the greatest thing in history a hundred years from
+now? Will it not be the death of the old superstitions rather than a
+mutiny in the East or a war with Russia? Will not the names of the
+pioneers of truth remain more firmly fixed in the minds of mankind than
+those of generals and chancellors?"
+
+The editor made it quite plain that these were speculations with which
+he had nothing whatever to do.
+
+"It's dead, Mrs. Armstrong," he said brutally. "The religious aspect is
+utterly dead, and wouldn't sell an extra copy of the paper. It would be
+madness to touch it now. The public gaze is fixed on Kabul River and
+St. Petersburg, Belgrade and Constantinople. They have almost forgotten
+that Jerusalem exists. I sent out twelve special correspondents ten days
+ago."
+
+Mrs. Armstrong sighed deeply. It was true, bitterly true. She was no
+longer of any importance in the public eye. No one asked her to lecture
+now. The mass meetings were all over. Not a single copy of _John
+Mulgrave_ had been sold for a month. How differently she had pictured it
+all on that winter's morning at Sir Michael's; how brightly and
+gloriously it had begun, and now how bitter the _denouement_, how
+utterly beyond foresight? What was this superstition, this Christianity
+which in its death struggles could overthrow a world?
+
+"_The decisive events of the world occur in the intellect._" Yes, but
+how soon do they leave their parent and outstrip its poor control?
+
+There was no need for women _now_. That was the bitterest thought of
+all. The movement was over--done with. A private in the Guards was a
+greater hero than the leader of an intellectual movement. What a
+monstrous _bouleversement_ of everything!
+
+Again the lady sighed deeply.
+
+"No," she said again, "the world was not yet strong enough to bear the
+truth. I have sold my Consols," she continued; "I have been advised to
+do so. I was investing for my daughter when I am gone. Newspaper shares
+are the things to buy now, I suppose! My brokers told me that I was
+doing the wisest thing. They said that they could not recover for
+years."
+
+"The money market is a thing in which I have very little concern except
+inasmuch as it affects large public issues," said the editor. "I leave
+it all to my city editor and his staff--men in whom I have the greatest
+possible trust. But I heard a curious piece of news last night. I don't
+know what it portends; perhaps Mr. Schuabe can tell me; he knows all
+about these things. Sir Michael Manichoe, the head of the Church
+political party, you know has been buying Consols enormously. Keith, my
+city editor, told me. He has, so it appears, invested enormous sums.
+Consols will go up in consequence. But even then I don't see how he can
+repay himself. They cannot rise much."
+
+"I wonder if I was well advised to sell?" said Mrs. Armstrong,
+nervously. "They say Sir Michael never makes a mistake. He must have
+some private information."
+
+"I don't think that is possible, Mrs. Armstrong," Ommaney said. "Of
+course Sir Michael may very likely know something about the situation
+which is not yet public. He may be reckoning on it. But things are in
+such hopeless confusion that no sane speculator would buy for a small
+rise which endured for half a day. He would not be able to unload
+quickly enough. It seems as if Sir Michael is buying for a permanent
+recovery. And I assure you that nothing can bring _that_ about. Only one
+thing at least."
+
+"What is that?" asked both Mrs. Armstrong and Schuabe together.
+
+The editor paused, while a faint smile flickered over his face. "Ah," he
+said, "an impossibility, of course. If any one discovered that 'The
+Discovery' was a fraud--a great forgery, for instance--_then_ we should
+see a universal relief."
+
+"_That_, of course, is asking for an impossibility," said Mrs.
+Armstrong, rather shortly. She resented the somewhat flippant tone of
+the great man.
+
+These things were all her life. To Ommaney they but represented a
+passing panorama in which he took absolutely no _personal_ interest. The
+novelist disliked and feared this detachment. It warred with her strong
+sense of mental duty. The highly trained journalist, to whom all life
+was but news, news, news, was a strange modern product which warred with
+her sense of what was fitting.
+
+"You're not well!" said the editor, suddenly turning to Schuabe, who had
+grown very pale. His voice reassured them.
+
+It was without a trace of weakness.
+
+The "Perfectly, thank you" was deliberate and calm as ever. Ommaney,
+however, noticed that, with a very steady hand, the host poured out
+nearly a tumbler of Burgundy and drank it in one draught.
+
+Schuabe had been taking nothing stronger than water hitherto during the
+progress of the meal.
+
+The man who had been waiting had just left the room for coffee. After
+Ommaney had spoken, there was a slight, almost embarrassed, silence. A
+sudden interruption came from the door of the room.
+
+It opened with a quick push and turn of the handle, quite unlike the
+deliberate movements of any one of the attendants.
+
+Sir Robert Llwellyn strode into the room. It was obvious that he was
+labouring under some almost uncontrollable agitation. The great face,
+usually so jolly and fresh-coloured, was ghastly pale. There was a fixed
+stare of fright in the eyes. He had forgotten to remove his silk hat,
+which was grotesquely tilted on his head, showing the hair matted with
+perspiration.
+
+Ommaney and Mrs. Armstrong sat perfectly still.
+
+They were paralysed with wonder at the sudden apparition of this famous
+person, obviously in such urgent hurry and distress.
+
+Then, with the natural instinct of well-bred people, their heads turned
+away, their eyes fell to their plates, and they began to converse in an
+undertone upon trivial matters.
+
+Schuabe had risen with a quick, snake-like movement, utterly unlike his
+general deliberation. In a moment he had crossed the room and taken
+Llwellyn's arm in a firm grip, looking him steadily in the face with an
+ominous and warning frown.
+
+That clear, sword-like glance seemed to nerve the big man into more
+restraint. A wave of artificial composure passed over him. He removed
+his hat and breathed deeply.
+
+Then he spoke in a voice which trembled somewhat, but which nevertheless
+attained something of control.
+
+"I am really very sorry," he said, with a ghastly attempt at a smile,
+"to have burst in upon you like this. I didn't know you had friends with
+you. Please excuse me. But the truth is--the truth is, that I am in
+rather a hurry to see you. I have an important message for you from--"
+he hesitated a single moment before he found the ready lie--"from Lord
+----. There are--there is something going on at the House of Commons
+which--But I will tell you later on. How do you do, Mrs. Armstrong? How
+are you, Ommaney? Fearfully rushed, of course! We archaeologists are the
+only people who have leisure nowadays. No, thanks, Schuabe, I lunched
+before I came. Coffee? Oh, yes; excellent!"
+
+His manner was noticeably forced and unnatural in its artificial
+geniality. The man, who had now entered with coffee, brought the tray to
+him, but instead of taking any he half filled an empty cup with Kuemmel
+and drank it off.
+
+His hurried explanation hardly deceived the two shrewd people at the
+table, but at least it made it obvious that he wished to be alone with
+their host.
+
+There was a little desultory conversation over the coffee, in which
+Llwellyn took a too easy and hilarious part, and then Mrs. Armstrong got
+up to go.
+
+Ommaney followed her.
+
+Schuabe walked with them a little way down the corridor. While he was
+out of the room, Llwellyn walked unsteadily to a sideboard. With shaking
+hand he mixed himself a large brandy-and-soda. His shaking hands, the
+intense greed with which he swallowed the mixture, were horrible in
+their sensual revelation. The mask of pleasantness had gone; the reserve
+of good manners disappeared.
+
+He stood there naked, as it were--a vast bulk of a man in deadly fear.
+
+Schuabe came back and closed the door silently. He drew Llwellyn to the
+old spot, right in the centre of the great room. There was a wild
+question in his eyes which his lips seemed powerless to utter.
+
+"Gertrude!" gasped the big man. "You know she came back to me. I told
+you at the club that it was all right between us again?"
+
+An immeasurable relief crossed the Jew's face. He pushed his friend away
+with a snarl of concentrated disgust.
+
+"You come here," he hissed venomously, "and burst into my rooms to tell
+me of your petty _amours_. Have I not borne with the story of your lust
+and degradation enough? You come here as if the--." He stopped suddenly.
+The words died away on his lips.
+
+Llwellyn was transformed.
+
+Even in his terror and agitation an ugly sneer blazed out upon his face.
+His nostrils curled with evil laughter. His voice became low and
+threatening. Something subtly _vulgar_ and _common_ stole into it. It
+was this last that arrested Schuabe. It was horrible.
+
+"Not quite so fast, my good friend," said Llwellyn. "Wait and hear my
+story; and, confound you! if you talk to me like that again, I'll kill
+you! Things are equal now, my Jewish partner--equal between us. If I am
+in danger, why, so are you; and either you speak civilly or you pay the
+penalty."
+
+A curious thing happened. The enormous overbearing brutality of the man,
+his _vitality_, seemed to cow and beat down the master mind.
+
+Schuabe, for the moment, was weak in the hands of his inferior. As yet
+he had heard nothing of what the other had come to tell; he was
+conscious only of hands of cold fear knocking at his heart.
+
+He seemed to shrink into himself. For the first and last time in his
+life, the inherited slavishness in his blood asserted itself.
+
+He had never known such degradation before. The beauty of his face went
+out like an extinguished candle. His features grew markedly Semitic; he
+cringed and fawned, as his ancestors had cringed and fawned before fools
+in power hundreds of years back.
+
+This inexpressibly disgusting change in the distinguished man had its
+immediate effect upon his companion. It was new and utterly startling.
+He had come to lean on Schuabe, to place the threads of a dreadful
+dilemma in his hand, to rest upon his master mind.
+
+So, for a second or two, in loathsome pantomime the men bowed and
+salaamed to each other in the centre of the room, not knowing what they
+did.
+
+It was Sir Robert who pulled himself together first. The fear which was
+rushing over him in waves gave him back a semblance of control.
+
+"We must not quarrel now," he said in a swift, eager voice. "Listen to
+me. We are on the brink of terrible things. Gertrude Hunt came back to
+me, as you know. She told me that she was sick to death of her friends
+the priests, that the old life called her, that she could not live
+apart from me. She mocked at her sudden conversion. I thought that it
+was real. I laughed and mocked with her. I trusted her as I would trust
+myself."
+
+He paused for a moment, choking down the immense agitation which rose up
+in his throat and half strangled speech.
+
+Schuabe's eyes, attentive and fixed, were still uncomprehending. Still
+the Jew did not see whither Llwellyn was leading--could not understand.
+
+"She's gone!" said the big man, all colour fading absolutely from his
+face. "And, Schuabe, in my mad folly and infatuation, in my incredible
+foolishness ... _I told her everything_."
+
+A sudden sharp animal moan burst from Schuabe's lips--clear, vibrant,
+and bestial in the silence.
+
+His rigidity changed into an extraordinary trembling. It was a temporary
+palsy which set every separate limb trembling with an independent
+motion. He waited thus, with an ashen face, to hear more.
+
+Llwellyn, when the irremediable fact had passed his lips, when the
+enormous difficulty of confession was surmounted, proceeded with slight
+relief:
+
+"This might, you will think, be just possibly without significance for
+us. It might be a coincidence. _But it is not so, Schuabe._ I know now,
+as certainly as I can know anything, that she came to me, was sent to
+me, by the people who have got hold of her. _There has been suspicion
+for some time_, there must have been. We have been ruined by this woman
+I trusted."
+
+"But why ... how?"
+
+"Because, Schuabe, as I was walking down Chancery Lane not an hour since
+I saw Gertrude come out of Lincoln's Inn with the clergyman Gortre. They
+got into a cab together and drove away. And more: I learn from Lambert,
+my assistant at the Museum, that Harold Spence, the journalist, who is a
+member of his club and a friend of his, _left for Palestine several
+days ago_."
+
+"I have just heard," whispered Schuabe, "that Sir Michael Manichoe has
+been buying large parcels of Consols."
+
+"The thing is over. We must----"
+
+"Hush!" said the Jew, menacingly. "All is not lost yet. Perhaps, the
+strong probability is, that only this Gortre knows yet. Even if anything
+is known to others, it is only vague, and cannot be substantiated until
+the man in Palestine gets a letter. Without this woman and Gortre we are
+safe."
+
+The Professor looked at him and understood. Nor was there any terror in
+his face, only a faint film of relief.
+
+Five minutes afterwards the two distinguished men, talking easily
+together, walked through the vestibule of the hotel, down the great
+courtyard and into the roaring Strand.
+
+A hotel clerk explained the celebrities to a voluble group of American
+tourists as they went by.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+BY THE TOWER OF HIPPICUS
+
+
+Harold Spence was essentially a man of action. His mental and moral
+health depended for its continuance upon the active prosecution of
+affairs more than most men's.
+
+A product of the day, "modern" in his culture, modern in his ideals, he
+must live the vivid, eager, strenuous life of his times or the fibres of
+his brain became slack and loosened.
+
+In the absorbing interest of his first mission to the East Spence had
+found work which exactly suited his temperament. It was work which keyed
+him up to his best and most successful efforts.
+
+But when that was over, when the news that he had given brilliantly to
+the world became the world's and was no longer his, then the reaction
+set in.
+
+The whole man became relaxed and unstrung; he was drifting into a sloth
+of the mind and body when Gortre had arrived from the North with his
+message of Hope.
+
+The renewed opportunity of action, the tonic to his weak and waning
+faith--that faith which alone was able to keep him clean and
+worthy--again strung up the chords of his manhood till they vibrated in
+harmony.
+
+Once more Spence was in the Holy City.
+
+But a short time ago he was at Jerusalem as the collective eye of
+millions of Englishmen, the telegraph wires stretched out behind him to
+London.
+
+Now he was, to all official intents, a private person, yet, as the
+steamer cast anchor in the roadstead of Jaffa, he had realised that a
+more tremendous responsibility than ever before rested with him.
+
+The last words spoken to Spence in England had been those of Sir Michael
+Manichoe. The great man was bidding him good-bye at Charing Cross.
+
+"Remember," he had said, "that whatever proof or help we may get from
+this woman, Gertrude Hunt, will be but the basis for you to work on in
+the East. We shall cable every result of our investigations here.
+Remember that, as we think, you have immense ability and resource
+against you. Go very warily. As I have said before, _no_ sum is too
+great to sacrifice, no sacrifice too great to make."
+
+There had been a day's delay at Jaffa. It had been a day of strange,
+bewildering thoughts to the journalist.
+
+The "Gate of the Holy Land" is not, as many people suppose, a fine
+harbour, a thronged port.
+
+The navies of the ancient world which congregated there were smaller
+than even the coasting steamers of to-day. They found shelter in a
+narrow space of more or less untroubled water between the shelving rock
+of the long, flat shore and a low reef rising out of the sea parallel to
+the town. The vessels with timber for Solomon's Temple tossed almost
+unsheltered before the terraces of ochre-coloured Oriental houses.
+
+For several hours it had been too rough for the passengers on the French
+boat to land. More than a mile of restless bottle-green sea separated
+them from the rude ladders fastened to the wave-washed quay.
+
+There had been one of the heavy rain-storms which at that season of the
+year visit Palestine. Over the Moslem minarets of the town the purple
+tops of the central mountains of Judah and Ephraim showed clear and far
+away.
+
+The time of waiting gave Spence an opportunity for collecting and
+ordering his thoughts, for summing up the situation and trying to get at
+the very heart of its meaning.
+
+The messagery steamer was the only one in the roads. Two coasting craft
+with rags of light brown sails were beating over the swell into the
+Mediterranean.
+
+The sky was cloudy, the air still and warm. Only the sea was turbulent
+and uneasy, the steamer rolled with a sickening, regular movement, and
+the anchor chains beat and rattled with the precision of a pendulum.
+
+Spence sat on the india-rubber treads of the steps leading up to the
+bridge, with an arm crooked round a white-painted stanchion supporting
+the hand-rail. A few yards away two lascars were working a chain and
+pulley, drawing up zinc boxes of ashes from the stoke-hold and tipping
+them into the sea. As the clinkers fell into the water a little cloud of
+steam rose from them.
+
+There were but few passengers on the ship, which wore a somewhat
+neglected, "off-duty" aspect. No longer were the cabins filled with
+drilled bands of tourists with their loud-voiced lecturing cleric in
+charge. Not now was there the accustomed rush to the main deck, the
+pious ejaculations at the first sight of Palestine, the electric
+knocking at the hearts even of the least devout.
+
+Nobody came to Jerusalem now from England. From Beyrout to Jaffa the
+maritime plain was silent and deserted, and no tourists plucked the
+roses of Sharon any more.
+
+A German commercial traveller, with cases of cutlery, from Essen, was
+arguing with the little Greek steward about his wine bill; a
+professional photographer from Alexandria, travelling with his cameras
+for a New York firm of art publishers; two Turkish officers smoking
+cigarettes; a Russian gentleman with two young sons; a fat man in
+flannels and with an unshaven chin, very much at home; an orange buyer
+from a warehouse by the Tower Bridge--these were the undistinguished
+companions of the journalist.
+
+The steward clapped his hands; _dejeuner_ was ready. The passengers
+tumbled down to the saloon. Spence declined the loud-voiced Cockney
+invitation of the fruit merchant and remained where he was, gazing with
+unseeing eyes at the low Eastern town, which rose and fell before him as
+the ship rolled lazily from side to side.
+
+There was something immensely, tremendously incongruous in his position.
+It was without precedent. He had come, in the first place, as a sort of
+private inquiry agent. He was a detective charged by a group of three or
+four people, a clergyman or two, a wealthy Member of Parliament, to find
+out the year-old movements--if, indeed, movements there had been!--of a
+distinguished European professor. He was to pry, to question, to
+deceive. This much in itself was utterly astonishing, strangely
+difficult of realisation.
+
+But how much more there was to stir and confuse his brain!
+
+He was coming back alone to Jerusalem. But a short time ago he had seen
+the great _savants_ of Europe--only thirty miles beyond this Eastern
+town--reluctantly pronounce the words which meant the downfall of the
+Christian Faith.
+
+The gunboat which had brought them all was anchored in this very spot. A
+Turkish guard had been waiting yonder on the quay, they had gone along
+the new road to Jerusalem in open carriages,--through the orange
+groves,--riding to make history.
+
+And now he was here once more.
+
+While he sat on this dingy steamer in this remote corner of the
+Mediterranean, it was no exaggeration to say that the whole world was in
+a state of cataclysm such as it had hardly, at least not often, known
+before.
+
+It was his business to watch events, to forecast whither they would
+lead. He was a Simon Magus of the modern world, with an electric wire
+and stylographic pen to prophesy with. He of all men could see and
+realise what was happening all over the globe. He was more alarmed than
+even the man in the street. This much was certain.
+
+And a day's easy ride away lay the little town which held the acre of
+rocky ground from which all these horrors, this imminent upheaval, had
+come.
+
+Again it seemed beyond the power of his brain to seize it all, to
+contain the vastness of his thoughts.
+
+These facts, which all the world knew, were almost too stupendous for
+belief. But when he dwelt upon the _personal_ aspect of them he was as a
+traveller whose way is irrevocably barred by sheer precipice.
+
+At the very first _he_ had been one mouthpiece of the news. For some
+hours the packet containing it had hung in the dressing-room of a London
+Turkish bath.
+
+His act had recoiled upon himself, for when Gortre found him in the
+chambers he was spiritually dying.
+
+Could this suspicion of Schuabe and Llwellyn possibly be true? It had
+seemed both plausible and probable in Sir Michael's study in London. But
+out here in the Jaffa roadstead, when he realised--or tried to
+realise--that on him might depend the salvation of the world.... He
+laughed aloud at that monstrous grandiloquent phrase. He was in the
+nineteenth century, not the tenth.
+
+He doubted more and more. Had it been any one else it might have been
+possible to believe. But he could not see himself in this stupendous
+_role_.
+
+The mental processes became insupportable; he dismissed thought with a
+great effort of will and got up from his seat.
+
+At least there was some _action_, something definite to do waiting for
+him. Speculation only blurred everything. He would be true to the trust
+his friends in England reposed in him and leave the rest to happen as it
+was fated.
+
+There was a relief in that attitude--the Arab attitude. _Kismet!_
+
+Griggs, the fruit merchant, came up from the saloon wiping his lips.
+
+"Bit orf," he said, "waiting like this. But the sea will go down soon.
+Last spring I had to go on to Beyrout, the weather was that rough. Ever
+tried that Vin de Rishon le Zion? It's a treat. Made from Bordeaux vines
+transplanted to Palestine--you'll pass the fields on the way up--just
+had a half bottle. Hallo!--look, there's the boat at last--old Francis
+Karane's boat. Must go and look after my traps."
+
+A long boat was creeping out from behind the reef. Spence went to his
+cabin to see after his light kit. It was better to move and work than to
+think.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was early morning, the morning after Spence's arrival in Jerusalem.
+He slept well and soundly in his hotel room, tired by the long ride--for
+he had come on horseback over the moonlit slopes of Ajalon.
+
+When at length he awoke it was with a sensation of mental and bodily
+vigour, a quickening of all his pulses in hope and expectation, which
+was in fine contrast to the doubts and hesitations of the Jaffa roads.
+
+A bright sun poured into the room.
+
+He got up and went to the window. There was a deep, unspoken prayer in
+his heart.
+
+The hotel was in Akra, the European and Christian quarter of Jerusalem,
+close by the Jaffa Gate, with the Tower of Hippicus frowning down upon
+it.
+
+The whole extent of the city lay beneath the windows in a glorious
+panorama, washed as it was in the brilliant morning light. Far beyond, a
+dark shadow yet, the Olivet range rose in background to the minarets and
+cupolas below it.
+
+His eye roved over the prospect, marking and recognising the buildings.
+
+There was the purple dome of the great Mosque of Omar, very clear
+against the amber-primrose lights of dawn.
+
+Where now the muezzin called to Allah, the burnt-offerings had once
+smoked in the courts of the Temple--it was in that spot the mysterious
+veil had parted in symbol of God's pain and death. It was in the porches
+bounding the court of the Gentiles that Christ had taught.
+
+Closer, below the Antonia Tower, rose the dark, lead-covered cupola of
+the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
+
+Great emotion came to him as he gazed at the shrine sacred above all
+others for so many centuries.
+
+He thought of that holy spot diminished in its ancient glory in the eyes
+of half the Christian world.
+
+Perhaps no more would the Holy Fire burst forth from the yellow, aged
+marble of the Tomb at Easter time.
+
+Who could say?
+
+Was not he, Harold Spence, there to try that awful issue?
+
+He wondered, as he gazed, if another Easter would still see the wild
+messengers bursting away to Nazareth and Bethlehem bearing The Holy
+Flame.
+
+The sun became suddenly more powerful. It threw a warmer light into the
+grey dome, and, deep down, the cold, dark waters of Hezekiah's Pool
+became bright and golden.
+
+The sacred places focussed the light and sprang into a new life.
+
+He made the sign of the Cross, wondering fancifully if this were an
+omen.
+
+Then with a shudder he looked to the left towards the ogre-grey Turkish
+battlements of the Damascus Gate.
+
+It was there, over by the Temple Quarries of Bezetha, the New Tomb of
+Joseph lay.
+
+Yes! straight away to the north lay the rock-hewn sepulchre where the
+great doctors had sorrowfully pronounced the end of so many Christian
+hopes.
+
+How difficult to believe that so short a distance away lay the centre of
+the world's trouble! Surely he could actually distinguish the
+guard-house in the wall which had been built round the spot.
+
+Over the sad Oriental city--for Jerusalem is always sad, as if the
+ancient stones were still conscious of Christ's passion--he gazed
+towards the terrible place, wondering, hoping, fearing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was very difficult to know how to begin upon this extraordinary
+affair.
+
+When he had made the first meal of the day and was confronted with the
+business, with the actual fact of what he had to do, he was aghast at
+what seemed his own powerlessness.
+
+He had no plan of action, no method. For an hour he felt absolutely
+hopeless.
+
+Sir Robert Llwellyn, so his friends believed, had been in Jerusalem
+prior to the discovery of the New Tomb.
+
+The first duty of the investigator was to find out whether that was
+true.
+
+How was he to do it?
+
+In his irresolution he decided to go out into the city. He would call
+upon various people he knew, friends of Cyril Hands, and trust to events
+for guiding his further movements.
+
+The rooms where Hands had always stayed were close to the schools of the
+Church Missionary Society; he would go there. Down in the Muristan area
+he could also chat with the doctor at the English Ophthalmic Hospice; he
+would call on his way to the New Tomb.
+
+It was at The Tomb that he might learn something, perhaps, yet how
+nebulous it all was, how unsatisfying!
+
+He set out, down the roughly paved streets, through the arched and
+shaded bazaars--places less full of colour and more sombre than the
+markets of other Oriental cities--to the heart of the city, where the
+streets were bounded by the vision of the distant hills of Olivet.
+
+The religious riots and unrest were long since over. The pilgrims to the
+Church of the Holy Sepulchre were less in number, but were mostly
+Russians of the Greek Church, who still accepted the Church of the Holy
+Sepulchre as the true goal of their desires.
+
+The Greeks and Armenians hated each other no more than usual. The Turks
+were held in good control by a strong governor of Jerusalem. Nor was
+this a time of special festival. The city, never quite at rest, was
+still in its normal condition.
+
+The Bedouin women with their unveiled faces, tattooed in blue, strode to
+the bazaars with the butter they had brought in from their desert herds.
+They wore gaudy head-dresses and high red boots, and they jostled the
+"pale townsmen" as they passed them; free, untamed creatures of the sun
+and air.
+
+As Spence passed by the courtyard of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre a
+crowd of Fellah boys ran up to him with candles ornamented with scenes
+from the Passion, pressing him to buy.
+
+The sun grew hotter as he walked, though the purple shadows of the
+narrow streets were cool enough. As he left the European heights of Akra
+and dived deep into the eastern central city, the well-remembered scenes
+and smells rose up like a wall before him and the rest of life.
+
+He began to walk more slowly, in harmony with the slow-moving forms
+around. He had been to Omdurman with the avenging army, knew
+Constantinople during the Greek war--the East had meaning for him.
+
+And as the veritable East closed round him his doubts and self-ridicule
+vanished. His strange mission seemed possible here.
+
+As he was passing one of the vast ruined structures once belonging to
+the mediaeval knights of St. John, thinking, indeed, that he himself was
+a veritable Crusader, a thin, importunate voice came to him from an
+angle of the stone-work.
+
+He looked down and saw an old Nurie woman sitting there. She belonged to
+the "Nowar," the unclean pariah class of Palestine, who are said to
+practise magic arts. A gipsy of the Sussex Downs would be her sister in
+England.
+
+The woman was tattooed from head to foot. She wore a blue turban, and
+from squares and angles drawn in the dust before her, Spence knew her
+for a professional geomancer or fortune-teller.
+
+He threw her a coin in idle speculation and asked her "his lot" for the
+immediate future.
+
+The woman had a few shells of different shapes in a heap by her side,
+and she threw them into the figures on the ground.
+
+Then, picking them up, she said, in bastard Arabic interspersed with a
+hard "K"-like sound, which marks the nomad in Palestine, "Effendi, you
+have a sorrow and bewilderment just past you, and, like a black star, it
+has fixed itself on your forehead. A letter is coming to you from over
+the seas telling you of work to do. And then you will leave this country
+and cross home in a steamer, with a story to tell many people."
+
+Spence smiled at the glib prophecy. Certainly it might very well outline
+his future course of action, but it was no more than a shrewd and
+obvious guess.
+
+He was turning to go away when the woman opened her clothes in front,
+showing the upper part of her body literally covered with tattoo marks,
+and drew out a small bag.
+
+"Stay, my lord," she said. "I can tell you much more if you will hear. I
+have here a very precious stone rubbed with oil, which I brought from
+Mecca. Now, if you will hold this stone in your hand and give me the
+price you shall hear what will come to you, O camel of the house!"
+
+The curious sensation of "expectation" that had been coming over Spence,
+the fatalistic waiting for chance to guide him which, in this wild and
+dream-like business, had begun to take hold of him, made him give the
+hag what she asked.
+
+There was something in clairvoyance perhaps; at any rate he would hear
+what the Nurie woman had to say.
+
+She took a dark and greasy pebble from the bag and put it in his hand,
+gazing at his fingers for a minute or two in a fixed stare without
+speaking.
+
+When at last she broke the silence Spence noticed that something had
+gone out of her voice. The medicant whine, the ingratiating invitation
+had ceased.
+
+Her tones were impersonal, thinner, a _recitative_.
+
+"Ere sundown my lord will hear that a friend has died and his spirit is
+in the well of souls."
+
+"Tell me of this friend, O my aunt!" Spence said in colloquial Arabic.
+
+"Thy friend is a Frank, but more than a Frank, for he is one knowing
+much of this country, and has walked the stones of Jerusalem for many
+years. Thou wilt hear of his death from the lips of one who will tell
+thee of another thou seekest, and know not that it is he.... Give me
+back the stone, lord, and go thy way," she broke off suddenly, with
+seeming sincerity. "I will tell thee no more, for great business is in
+thy hands and thou art no ordinary wayfarer. Why didst thou hide it from
+me, Effendi?"
+
+Drawing her blue head-dress over her face, the woman refused to speak
+another word.
+
+Spence passed on, wondering. He knew, as all travellers who are not
+merely tourists know, that no one has ever been quite able to sift the
+fraud and trickery from the strange power possessed by those Eastern
+geomancers. It is an undecided question still, but only the shallow dare
+to say that _all_ is imposture.[2]
+
+And even the London journalist could not be purely materialistic in
+Jerusalem, the City of Sorrows.
+
+He went on towards his destination. Not far from the missionary
+establishment was a building which was the headquarters of the Palestine
+Exploring Society in Jerusalem.
+
+Cyril Hands had always lived up in Akra among the Europeans, but much of
+his time was necessarily spent in the Muristan district.
+
+The building was known as the "Research Museum."
+
+Hands and his assistants had gathered a valuable collection of ancient
+curiosities.
+
+Here were hundreds of drawings and photographs of various excavations.
+Accurate measurements of tombs, buried houses, ancient churches were
+entered in great books.
+
+In glass cases were fragments of ancient pottery, old Hebrew seals,
+scarabs, antique fragments of jewellery--all the varied objects from
+which high scholarship and expert training was gradually, year by year,
+providing a luminous and entirely fresh commentary on Holy Writ.
+
+Here, in short, were the tools of what is known as the "Higher
+Criticism."
+
+Attached to the museum was a library and drawing office, a photographic
+dark room, apartments for the curator and his wife. A man who engaged
+the native labour required for the excavations superintended the work of
+the men and acted as general agent and intermediary between the European
+officials and all Easterns with whom they came in contact.
+
+This man was well known in the city--a character in his way. In the
+reports of the Exploring Society he was often referred to as an
+invaluable assistant. But a year ago his portrait had been published in
+the annual statement of the fund, and the face of the Greek Ionides in
+his turban lay upon the study tables of many a quiet English vicarage.
+
+Spence entered the courtyard of the building. It was quiet and deserted;
+some pigeons were feeding there.
+
+He turned under a stone archway to the right, pushed open a door, and
+entered the museum.
+
+There was a babel of voices.
+
+A small group of people stood by a wooden pedestal in the centre of the
+room, which supported the famous cruciform font found at Biar Es-seb'a.
+
+They turned at Spence's entrance. He saw some familiar faces of people
+with whom he had been brought in contact during the time of the first
+discovery.
+
+Two English missionaries, one in orders, the English Consul, and
+Professor Theodore Adams, the American archaeologist, who lived all the
+year round in the new western suburb, stood speaking in grave tones and
+with distressed faces--so it seemed to the intruder.
+
+An Egyptian servant, dressed in white linen, carrying a bunch of keys,
+was with them.
+
+In his hand the Consul held a roll of yellow native wax.
+
+An enormous surprise shone out on the faces of these people as Spence
+walked up to him.
+
+"Mr. Spence!" said the Consul, "we never expected you or heard of your
+coming. This is most fortunate, however. You were his great friend. I
+think you both shared chambers together in London?"
+
+Spence looked at him in wonder, mechanically shaking the proffered hand.
+
+"I don't think I quite understand," he said. "I came here quite by
+chance, just to see if there was any one that I knew about."
+
+"Then you have not heard--" said the clergyman.
+
+"I have heard nothing."
+
+"Your friend, our distinguished fellow-worker, Professor Hands, is no
+more. We have just received a cable. Poor, dear Hands died of heart
+disease while taking a seaside holiday."
+
+Spence was genuinely affected.
+
+Hands was an old and dear friend. His sweet, kindly nature, too dreamy
+and retiring perhaps for the rush and hurry of Occidental life, had
+always been wonderfully welcome for a month or two each year in
+Lincoln's Inn. His quaint, learned letters, his enthusiasm for his work
+had become part of the journalist's life. They were recurring pleasures.
+And now he was gone!
+
+Now it was all over. Never more would he hear the quiet voice, hear the
+water-pipe bubble in the quiet old inn as night gave way to dawn....
+
+His brain whirled with the sudden shock. He grew very pale, waiting to
+hear more.
+
+"We know little more," said the Consul, with a sigh. "A cable from the
+central office of the Society has just stated the fact and asked me to
+take official charge of everything here. We were just about to begin
+sealing up the rooms when you came. There are many important documents
+which must be seen to. Mr. Forbes, poor Hands's assistant, is away on
+the shores of the Dead Sea, but we have sent for him by the camel
+garrison post. But it will be some weeks before he can be here,
+probably."
+
+"This is terribly sad news for me," said Spence at length. "We were, of
+course, the dearest friends. The months when Hands was in town were
+always the pleasantest. Of course, lately we did not see so much of each
+other; he had become a public character. He was becoming very depressed
+and unwell, terrified, I almost think, at what was going on in the world
+owing to the discovery he had made, and he was going away to
+recuperate. But I knew nothing of this!"
+
+"I am sorry," said the Consul, "to have to tell you of such a sad
+business, but we naturally thought that somehow you knew--though, of
+course, in point of time that would hardly be possible, or only just
+so."
+
+"I am in the East," said Spence, giving an explanation that he had
+previously prepared if it became necessary to account for his
+presence--"I am here on a mission for my newspaper--to ascertain various
+points about public opinion in view of all these imminent international
+complications."
+
+"Quite so, quite so," said the Consul. "I shall be glad to help you in
+any way I can, of course. But when you came in we were wondering what we
+should do exactly about poor Hands's private effects, papers, and so on.
+When he went on leave all his things were packed in cases and sent down
+here from his rooms in the upper city. I suppose they had better be
+shipped to England. Perhaps you would take charge of them on your
+return?"
+
+"I expect you will hear from his brother, the Rev. John Hands, a
+Leicestershire clergyman, when the mail comes in," said Spence. "This is
+a great blow to me. I should like to pay my poor friend some public
+tribute. I should like to write something for English people to read--a
+sketch of his life and work here in Jerusalem--his daily work among you
+all."
+
+His voice faltered. His eyes had fallen on a photograph which hung upon
+the wall. A group of Arabs sat at the mouth of a rock tomb. In front of
+them, wearing a sun helmet and holding a ten-foot surveyor's wand, stood
+the dead professor. A kindly smile was on his face as he looked down
+upon the white figures of his men.
+
+"It would be a gracious tribute," said one of the missionaries. "Every
+one loved him, whatever their race or creed. We can all tell you of him
+as we saw him in our midst. It is a great pity that old Ionides has
+gone. He was the confidential sharer of all the work here, and Hands
+trusted him implicitly. He could have told you much."
+
+"I remember Ionides well," said Spence. "At the time of the discovery,
+of course, he was very much in evidence, and he was examined by the
+committee. Is the old fellow dead, then?"
+
+"No," answered the missionary. "Some time ago, just after the Commission
+left, in fact, he came into a considerable sum of money. He was getting
+on in years, and he resigned his position here. He has taken an olive
+farm somewhere by Nabulus, a Turkish city by Mount Gerizim. I fear we
+shall never see him more. He would grieve at this news."
+
+"I think," said Spence, "I will go back to my hotel. I should like to be
+alone to-day. I will call on you this evening, if I may," he added,
+turning to the Consul.
+
+He left the melancholy group, once more beginning their sad business,
+and went out again into the narrow street.
+
+He wanted to be alone, in some quiet place, to pay his departed friend
+the last rites of quiet thought and memory. He would say a prayer for
+him in the cool darkness of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
+
+How did it go?
+
+     "_So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this
+     mortal shall have put on immortality; Then shall be brought to pass
+     the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. O
+     death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?_"
+
+Always all his life long he had thought that these were perhaps the most
+beautiful of written words.
+
+He turned to the right, passed the Turkish guard at the entrance, and
+went down the narrow steps to the "Calvary" chapel.
+
+The gloom and glory of the great church, its rich and sombre light, the
+cool yet heavy air, saddened his soul. He knelt in humble prayer.
+
+When he came out once more into the brilliant sunlight and the noises of
+the city he felt braver and more confident.
+
+He began to turn his thoughts earnestly and resolutely to his mission.
+
+Swiftly, with a quick shock of memory, he remembered his talk with the
+old fortune-teller. It was with an unpleasant sense of chill and shock
+that he remembered her predictions.
+
+Some strange sense of divination had told her of this sad news that
+waited for him. He could not explain or understand it. But there was
+more than this. It might be wild and foolish, but he could not thrust
+the woman's words from his brain.
+
+She knew he was in quest of some one. She said he would be told....
+
+He entered the yellow stone portico of the hotel with a sigh of relief.
+The hall was large, flagged, and cool. A pool of clear water was in the
+centre, glimmering green over its tiles. The eye rested on it with
+pleasure. Spence sank into a deck-chair and clapped his hands. He was
+exhausted, tired, and thirsty.
+
+An Arab boy came in answer to his hand-clapping. He brought an envelope
+on a tray.
+
+It was a cable from England.
+
+Spence went up-stairs to his bedroom. From his kit-bag he drew a small
+volume, bound in thick leather, with a locked clasp.
+
+It was Sir Michael Manichoe's private cable code--a precious volume
+which great commercial houses all over the world would have paid great
+sums to see, which the great man in his anxiety and trust had confided
+to his emissary.
+
+Slowly and laboriously he de-coded the message, a collection of letters
+and figures to be momentous in the history of Christendom.
+
+These were the words:
+
+     "_The woman has discovered everything from Llwellyn. All suspicions
+     confirmed. Conspiracy between Llwellyn and Schuabe. You will find
+     full confirmation from the Greek foreman of Society explorations,
+     Ionides. Get statement of truth by any means, coercion or money to
+     any amount. All is legitimate. Having obtained, hasten home,
+     special steamer if quicker. Can do nothing certain without your
+     evidence. We trust in you. Hasten._
+
+          "MANICHOE."
+
+He trembled with excitement as he relocked the code.
+
+It was a light in a dark place. Ionides! the trusted for many years! The
+eager helper! The traitor bought by Llwellyn!
+
+It was afternoon now. He must go out again. A caravan, camels, guides,
+must be found for a start to-morrow.
+
+It would not be a very difficult journey, but it must be made with
+speed, and it was four days, five days away.
+
+He passed out of the hotel and by the Tower of Hippicus.
+
+A new drinking fountain had been erected there, a domed building, with
+pillars of red stone and a glittering roof, surmounted by a golden
+crescent.
+
+Some camel drivers were drinking there. He was passing by when a tall,
+white-robed figure bowed low before him. A voice, speaking French, bade
+him good-day.
+
+The face of the man seemed familiar. He asked him his name and business.
+
+It was Ibrahim, the Egyptian servant he had seen at the museum in the
+morning.
+
+The rooms had been sealed up, and the man had been to the Consul's
+private house with the keys.
+
+This man had temporarily succeeded the Greek Ionides.
+
+Spence turned back to the hotel and bade Ibrahim follow him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+UNDER THE EASTERN STARS: TOWARDS GERIZIM
+
+
+The night was cold and still, the starlight brilliant in the huge hollow
+sapphire of the sky.
+
+Wrapped in a heavy cloak, Spence sat at the door of one of the two
+little tents which composed his caravan.
+
+Ibrahim the Egyptian, a Roman Catholic, as it seemed, had volunteered to
+act as dragoman. In a few hours this man had got together the necessary
+animals and equipment for the expedition to Nabulus.
+
+Spence rode a little grey horse of the wiry Moabite breed, Ibrahim a
+Damascus bay. The other men, a cook and two muleteers, all Syrians of
+the Greek Church, rode mules.
+
+The day's march had been long and tiring. Night, with its ineffable
+peace and rest, was very welcome.
+
+On the evening of the morrow they would be on the slopes of Ebal and
+Gerizim, near to the homestead of the man they sought.
+
+All the long day Spence had asked himself what would be the outcome of
+this wild journey. He was full of a grim determination to wring the
+truth from the renegade. In his hip pocket his revolver pressed against
+his thigh. He was strung up for action. Whatever course presented
+itself, that he would take, regardless of any law that there might be
+even in these far-away districts.
+
+His passport was specially endorsed by the Foreign Office; he bore a
+letter, obtained by the Consul, from the Governor of Jerusalem to the
+Turkish officer in command of Nabulus.
+
+He had little doubt of the ultimate result. Money or force should obtain
+a full confession, and then, a swift rush for London with the charter of
+salvation--for it would be little less than that--and the engine of
+destruction for the two terrible criminals at home.
+
+As they marched over the plains the red anemone and blue iris had peeped
+from the herbage. The ibex, the roebuck, the wild boar, had fled from
+the advancing caravan.
+
+Eagles and vultures had moved heavily through the sky at vast heights.
+Quails, partridges, and plovers started from beneath the horses' feet.
+
+As the sun plunged away, the owls had begun to mourn in the olive
+groves, the restless chirping of the grasshoppers began to die away, and
+as the stars grew bright, the nightingale--the lonely song-bird of these
+solitudes--poured out his melody to the night.
+
+The camp had been formed under the shade of a clump of terebinth and
+acacias close to a spring of clear water which made the grass around it
+a vivid green, in pleasant contrast to the dry, withered herbage in the
+open.
+
+The men had dug out tree roots for fuel, and a red fire glowed a few
+yards away from Spence's tent.
+
+A group of silent figures sat round the fire. Now and then a low murmur
+of talk sounded for a minute and then died away again. A slight breeze,
+cool and keen, rustled in the trees overhead. Save for that, and the
+occasional movement of one of the hobbled horses, no sound broke the
+stillness of the glorious night.
+
+It was here, so Spence thought, that the Lord must have walked with His
+disciples on the journey between Jerusalem and Nazareth.
+
+On such a night as this the little group may have sat in the vale of El
+Makhna in quiet talk at supper-time.
+
+The same stars looked down on him as they did on those others two
+thousand years ago. How real and true it all seemed here! How much
+_easier_ it was to realise and believe than in Chancery Lane!
+
+Why did men live in cities?
+
+Was it not better far for the soul's health to be here alone with God?
+
+Here, and in such places as these, God spoke clear and loud to the
+hearts of men. He shuddered as the thought of his own lack of faith came
+back to him.
+
+In rapid review he saw the recent time of his hopelessness and shame.
+How utterly he had fallen to pieces! It was difficult to understand the
+pit into which he was falling so easily when Basil had come to him.
+
+Now, the love of God ran in his veins like fire, every sight and sound
+spoke to him of the Christus Consolator.
+
+It was more than mere cold belief, a _love_ or personal devotion to
+Christ welled up in him. The figure of the Man of Sorrows was very near
+him--there was a great fiery cross of stars in the sky above him.
+
+He entered the little tent to pray. He prayed humbly that it might be
+even thus until the end. He prayed that this new and sweet communion
+with his Master might never fade or lessen till the glorious daylight of
+Death dawned and this sojourning far from home was over.
+
+And, in the name of all the unknown millions whom he was come to this
+far land to aid, he prayed for success, for the Truth to be made
+manifest, and for a happy issue out of all these afflictions.
+
+"And this we beg for Jesus Christ, _His_ sake."
+
+Then much refreshed and comforted he emerged once more into the serene
+beauty of the night.
+
+He lit his pipe and sat there, quietly smoking. Presently Ibrahim the
+Egyptian began to croon a low song, one of the Egyptian songs that
+soldiers sing round the camp-fires.
+
+The man had done his term of compulsory service in the past, and perhaps
+this sudden transition from the comfortable quarters in Jerusalem to the
+old life of camp-fire and _plein air_ had its way with him and opened
+the springs of memory.
+
+This is part of what he sang in a thin, sad voice:
+
+    _Born in Galiub, since my birth, many times have I seen the
+         Nile's waters overflow our fields.
+    And I had a neighbour, Sheikh Abdehei, whose daughter's face was
+         known only to me:
+    Nothing could be compared to the beauty and tenderness of Fatme.
+    Her eyes were as big as coffee cups, and her body was firm with the
+         vigour of youth.
+    We had one heart, and were free from jealousies, ready to be
+         united.
+    But Allah curse the military inspector who bound my two hands,
+    For, together with many more, we were marched off to the camp.
+    I was poor and had to serve, nothing could soften the inspector's
+         heart.
+    The drums and the trumpets daily soon made me forget my cottage and
+         the well-wheel on the Nile._
+
+The long-drawn-out notes vibrated mournfully in the night air.
+
+Sadly the singer put his hand to one side of his head, bending as if he
+were wailing.
+
+The quaint, imaginative song-story throbbed through many phases and
+incidents, and every now and again the motionless figures round the red
+embers wailed in sympathy.
+
+At last came the end, a happy climax, no less loved by these simple
+children of the desert than by the European novel reader.
+
+    _ ... So that I was in the hospital and had become most seriously
+        ill.
+    But swifter than the gazelle, the light of my life came near the
+        hospital.
+    And called in at the window, "Ibrahim! my eye! my heart!"
+    And full of joy I carried her about the camp, and presented her to
+        all my superiors, leaving out none, from the colonel down to the
+        sergeant.
+    I received my dismissal, to return to Galiub and to marry.
+    Old Abdehei was awaiting us, to bless us. God be praised!_
+
+So sang Ibrahim, the converted Christian, the Moslem songs of his youth;
+for here, in El Makhna, the plain of Shechem, there were no missionaries
+with their cold reproof and little hymns in simple couplets.
+
+The fire died away, and they slept until dawn flooded the plain.
+
+When, on the next day, the sun was waning, though still high in the
+western heavens, the travellers came within view of the ancient city of
+Nabulus.
+
+There was a great tumult of excitement in Spence's pulses as he saw the
+city, radiant in the long afternoon lights, and far away.
+
+Here, in the confines of this distant glittering town, lay the last link
+in the terrible secret which he was to solve.
+
+On either side the purple slopes of the mountains made a mighty frame to
+the terraced houses below. Ebal and Gerizim kept solemn watch and ward
+over the city.
+
+The sun was just sinking as they rode into the suburbs. It was a lovely,
+placid evening.
+
+The abundant cascades of water, which flow from great fissures in the
+mountain and make this Turkish town the jewel of the East, glittered in
+the light.
+
+Below them the broad, still reservoirs lay like plates of gold.
+
+They rode through luxuriant groves of olives, figs, and vines,
+wonderfully grateful and refreshing to the eye after the burnt brown
+herbage of the plain, towards the regular camping-ground where all
+travellers lay.
+
+In the cool of the evening Spence and Ibrahim rode through the teeming
+streets to the Governor's house.
+
+It was a city of fanatics, so the Englishman had heard, and during the
+great Moslem festivals the members of the various, and rather extensive,
+missionary establishments were in constant danger. But as the two men
+rode among the wild armed men who sat in the bazaars or pushed along the
+narrow streets they were not in any way molested.
+
+After a ceremonious introduction and the delivery of the letter from the
+Governor of Jerusalem, Spence made known his business over the coffee
+and cigarettes which were brought immediately on his arrival.
+
+The Governor was a placid, pleasant-mannered man, very ready to give his
+visitor any help he could.
+
+It was represented to him that the man Ionides, who had but lately
+settled in the suburbs, was in the possession of some important secrets
+affecting the welfare of many wealthy residents in Jerusalem. These, it
+was hinted, were of a private nature, but in all probability great
+pressure would have to be put upon the Greek in order to receive any
+satisfactory confession.
+
+The conversation, which was carried on in French, ended in an eminently
+satisfactory way.
+
+"Monsieur will understand," said the Governor, "that I make no inquiry
+into the nature of the information monsieur wishes to obtain. I may or
+may not have my ideas upon that subject. The Greek was, I understand,
+intimately connected with the recent discoveries in Jerusalem. Let that
+pass. It is none of my business. Here I am a good Moslem, Allah be
+praised! it is a necessity of my official position."
+
+He laughed cynically, clapped his hands for a new brass vessel of
+creaming coffee and continued:
+
+"A political necessity, Monsieur, as a man of the world, will quite
+understand me. I have been in London, at the Embassy, and I myself am
+free from foolish prejudices. I am not Moslem in heart nor am I
+Christian--some coffee, Monsieur?--yes! Monsieur also is a man of the
+world!"
+
+Spence, sitting cross-legged opposite his host, had smiled an answering
+cynical smile at these words. He shrugged his shoulders and threw out
+his hands. Everything depended upon making a good impression upon this
+local autocrat.
+
+"Eh bien, monsieur avait raison-meme--that, I repeat, is not my affair.
+But this letter from my brother of Jerusalem makes me of anxiety to
+serve your interests. And, moreover, the man is a Greek, of no great
+importance--we are not fond of the Greeks, we Turks! Now it is most
+probable that the man will not speak without persuasion. Moreover, that
+persuasion were better officially applied. To assist monsieur, I shall
+send Tewfik Pasha, my nephew, and captain commandant of the northern
+fort, with half a dozen men. If this dog will not talk they will know
+how to make him. I suppose you have no scruples as to any means they may
+employ? There are foolish prejudices among the Western people."
+
+Spence took his decision very quickly. He was a man who had been on many
+battle-fields, knew the grimness of life in many lands. If torture were
+necessary, then it must be so. The man deserved it, the end was great if
+the means were evil. It must be remembered that Spence was a man to
+whom the very loftiest and highest Christian ideals had not yet been
+made manifest. There are degrees in the struggle for saintliness; the
+journalist was but a postulant.
+
+He saw these questions of conduct roughly, crudely. His conscience
+animated his deeds, but it was a conscience as yet ungrown. And indeed
+there are many instruments in an orchestra, all tuneful perhaps to the
+conductor's beat, which they obey and understand, yet not all of equal
+eminence or beauty in the great scheme of the concert.
+
+The violin soars into great mysteries of emotion, calling high "in the
+deep-domed empyrean." The flutes whisper a chorus to the great story of
+their comrade. Yet, though the plangent sounding of the kettle-drums,
+the single beat of the barbaric cymbals are in one note and unfrequent,
+yet these minor messages go to swell the great tone-symphony and make it
+perfect in the serene beauty of something _directed and ordained_.
+
+"Sir," said the journalist, "the man must be made to speak. The methods
+are indifferent to me."
+
+"Oh, that can be done; we have a way," said the Governor.
+
+He shifted a little among his cushions. A certain dryness came into his
+voice as he resumed:
+
+"Monsieur, however, as a man of the world, will understand, no doubt,
+that when a private individual finds it necessary to invoke the powers
+of law it is a vast undertaking to move so ponderous a machine?... also
+it is a privilege? It is not, of course, a personal matter--_ca m'est
+egal_. But there are certain unavoidable and indeed quite necessary
+expenses which must be satisfied."
+
+Spence well understood the polite humbug of all this. He knew that in
+the East one buys justice--or injustice--as one can afford it. As the
+correspondent of that great paper over which Ommaney presided, he had
+always been able to spend money like water when it had been necessary.
+He had those powers now. There was nothing unusual to him in the
+situation, nor did he hesitate.
+
+"Your Excellency," he said, "speaks with great truth upon these points.
+It is ever from a man of your Excellency's penetration that one hears
+those dicta which govern affairs. I have a certain object in view, and I
+realise that to obtain it there are certain necessary formalities to be
+gone through. I have with me letters of credit upon the bank of Lelain
+Delaunay et Cie., of Jaffa, Jerusalem, and Athens."
+
+"A sound, estimable house," said the Governor, with a very pleased
+smile.
+
+"It but then remains," said Spence, "to confer with the secretary of
+your Excellency as to the sum which is necessary to pay for the legal
+expenses of the inquiry."
+
+"You speak most sensibly," said the Turk. "In the morning I will send
+the captain commandant and the soldiers to the encampment. My secretary
+shall accompany them. Then, Monsieur, when the little preliminaries are
+arranged, you will be free to start for the farm of this dog Ionides. It
+is not more than four miles from your camp, and my nephew will guide you
+there. May Allah prosper your undertaking."
+
+"--And have you in His care," replied Spence. "I will now have the
+honour to wish your Excellency undisturbed rest."
+
+He rose and bowed. The Turkish gentleman rose also and shook hands in
+genial European fashion.
+
+"Monsieur," he said, with an expansive smile, "Monsieur is without doubt
+a thorough man of the world."
+
+That night, in the suburbs of the city, sweet and fragrant as the olive
+groves and fig trees were, cool and fresh as the night wind was, Spence
+slept but little.
+
+He could hear the prowling dogs of the streets baying the Eastern moon,
+the owls hooted in the trees, but it was not these distant sounds, all
+mellowed by the distance, which drove rest and sleep away. It was the
+imminent sense of the great issues of the morrow, a wild and fierce
+excitement which forbade sleep or rest and filled his veins with fire.
+
+He could not quite realise what awful things hung upon the event of the
+coming day. He knew that his brain could not contain the whole terror
+and vastness of the thought.
+
+Indeed, he felt that _no_ brain could adequately realise the importance
+of it all.
+
+Yet even that partial realisation of which he was capable was enough to
+drive all peace away, the live-long night, to leave him nothing but the
+plangent, burning thought.
+
+He was very glad when the cool, hopeful dawn came.
+
+The nightmare of vigil was gone. Action was at hand. He prayed in the
+morning air.
+
+Presently, from the city gates, he saw a little cavalcade drawing near,
+twelve soldiers on wiry Damascene horses, an officer, with the
+Governor's secretary riding by his side.
+
+Those preliminaries of a signed draft upon the bank, which cupidity and
+the occasion demanded, were soon over.
+
+These twelve soldiers and their commandant cost him two hundred pounds
+"English"; but that was nothing.
+
+If his own words were ineffective, then the cord and wedge must do the
+rest. It had to be paid for.
+
+The world was waiting.
+
+On through the olive groves and the vines laden with purple. On, over
+the little stone-bridged cascades and streams--sweet gifts of lordly
+Ebal--round the eastern wall of the town, crumbling stone where the
+mailed lizards were sleeping in the sun; on to the low roofs and vivid
+trees where the Greek traitor had made his home!
+
+At length the red road opened before them on to a burnt plain which was
+the edge and brim of the farm.
+
+It lay direct and patent to the view, the place of the great secret.
+
+Ionides was waiting for them, under a light verandah which ran round the
+house, before they reached the building.
+
+He had seen them coming over the plain.
+
+A little elderly olive-skinned man, with restless eyes the colour of
+sherry, bowed and bent before them with terrified inquiry in every
+gesture.
+
+His gaze flickered over the arms and shabby uniforms of the soldiers
+with hate and fear in it mingled with a piteous cringing. It was the
+look which the sad Greek boatmen on the shores of the Bosphorus wear all
+their lives.
+
+Then he saw Spence and recognised him as the Englishman who had been the
+friend of Hands, and was at the meetings of the Conference.
+
+The sight of the journalist seemed to affect him like a sudden blow. The
+fear and uneasiness he had shown at the first sight of the Turkish
+soldiers were intensified a thousand-fold.
+
+The man seemed to shrink and collapse. His face became ashen grey, his
+lips parched suddenly, for his tongue began to curl round them in order
+to moisten their rigidity.
+
+With a great effort he forced himself to speak in English first, fluent
+enough but elementary, and then in a rush of French, the language of all
+Europe, and one with which the cosmopolitan Greek is ever at home.
+
+The captain gave an order. His men dismounted and tied up the horses.
+
+Then, taking the conduct of the affair into his own hands at once, he
+spoke to Ionides with a snarling contempt and brutality that he would
+hardly have used to a strolling street dog.
+
+"The English gentleman has come to ask you some questions, dog. See to
+it that you give a true answer and speedy. For, if not, there are many
+ways to make you. I have the warrant of his Excellency the Governor to
+do as I please with you and yours."
+
+The Greek made an inarticulate noise. He raised one long-fingered,
+delicate hand to his throat.
+
+Spence, as he watched, could not help a feeling of pity. The whole
+attitude of the man was inexpressibly painful in its sheer terror.
+
+His face had become a white wedge of fear.
+
+The officer spoke again.
+
+"You will take the English pasha into a private room," he said sternly,
+"where he will ask you all he wishes. I shall post two of my men at the
+door. Take heed that they do not have to summon me. And meanwhile bring
+out food and entertainment for me and my soldiers."
+
+He clapped his hands and the women of the house, who were peering round
+the end of the verandah, ran to bring pilaff and tobacco.
+
+Spence, with two soldiers, closely following the swaying, tottering
+figure of Ionides, went into a cool chamber opening on to the little
+central courtyard round which the house was built.
+
+It was a bare room, with a low bench or ottoman here and there.
+
+But, on the walls, oddly incongruous in such a setting, were some framed
+photographs. Hands, in a white linen suit and a wide Panama hat, was
+there; there was a photograph of the museum at Jerusalem, and a picture
+cut from an English illustrated paper of the Society's great excavations
+at Tell Sandahannah.
+
+It was odd, Spence thought gravely, that the man cared to keep these
+records of his life in Jerusalem, crowned as it was with such an act of
+treachery.
+
+He sat down on the ottoman. The Greek stood before him, cowering against
+the wall.
+
+It was a little difficult to know how he should begin; what was the best
+method to ensure a full confession.
+
+He lit a cigarette to help his thoughts.
+
+"What did Sir Robert Llwellyn give you?--how much?" he said suddenly.
+
+Again the look of ashen fear came over the Greek's face. He struggled
+with it before he spoke.
+
+"I am sorry that your meaning is not plain to me, sir. I do not know of
+whom you speak."
+
+"I speak of him whom you served secretly. It was with your aid that the
+'new' tomb was found. But before it was found you and Sir Robert
+Llwellyn were at work there. I have come to obtain from you a detailed
+confession of how the thing was done, who cut the inscription?--I must
+know everything. If not, I tell you with perfect truth, your life is not
+safe. The Governor has sent men with me and you will be made to speak."
+
+He spoke with a deep menace in his tone, and at the same time drew his
+revolver from the hip pocket of his riding-breeches and held it on his
+knee.
+
+He had begun to realise the awful nature of this man's deed more and
+more poignantly in his presence. True, he was the tool of greater
+intelligences, and his guilt was not so heavy as theirs. Nevertheless,
+the Greek was no fool, he had something of an education, he had not done
+this thing blindly.
+
+The man crouched against the wall, desperate and hopeless.
+
+One of the soldiers outside the door moved, and his sabre clanked.
+
+The sound was decisive. With a broken, husky voice Ionides began his
+miserable confession.
+
+How simple it was! Wild astonishment at the ease with which the whole
+thing had been done filled the journalist's brain.
+
+The tomb, already known to the Greek, the slow carving of the
+inscription at dead of night by Llwellyn, the new coating of _hamra_
+sealing up the inner chamber.
+
+And yet, so skilfully had the forgeries been committed, chance had so
+aided the forgers, and their secret had been so well preserved that the
+whole world of experts was deceived.
+
+In the overpowering relief of the confession Spence was but little
+interested in the details, but at length they were duly set down and
+signed by the Greek in the presence of the officer.
+
+By midnight the journalist was far away on the road to Jerusalem.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE LAST MEETING
+
+
+In Sir Robert Llwellyn's flat in Bond Street the electric bell suddenly
+rang, a shrill tinkle in the silence.
+
+Schuabe, who sat by the window, looked up with a strained, white face.
+
+Avoiding his glance, Llwellyn rose and went out into the passage. The
+latch of the door clicked, there was a murmur of voices, and Llwellyn
+returned, following a third person.
+
+Schuabe gave a scarcely perceptible shudder as this man entered.
+
+The man was a thick-set person of medium height, clean shaven. He was
+dressed in a frock-coat and carried a silk hat, neither new nor smart,
+yet not seedy nor showing any evidences of poverty. The man's face was
+one to inspire a sensitive or alert person with a sudden disgust and
+terror for which a name can hardly be found. It was an utterly
+abominable and black soul that looked out of the still rather bilious
+eyes.
+
+The eyes were much older than the rest of the face. They were full of a
+cold and deliberate cruelty and, worse even than this, such a hideous
+_knowledge_ of unmentionable crime was there! The lips made one thin,
+wicked curve which hardly varied in direction, for this man could not
+smile.
+
+He belonged to a certain horrible gang who infest the West End of
+London, bringing terror and ruin to all they meet. These people haunt
+the bars and music halls of the "pleasure" part of London.
+
+It were better for a man that he had never been born--a thousand times
+better--than that he should go among these men. Black shame and horrors
+worse than death they bring with both hands to the bitter fools who
+lightly meet them unknowing what they are.
+
+Constantine Schuabe, in the moment when he saw this man--knowing well
+who and what he was--knew the bitterest moment of his life.
+
+Vast criminal that he was himself, mighty in his evil brain, ... he was
+pure; certain infamies were not his.... He spat into his handkerchief
+with an awful physical disgust.
+
+"This is my friend, Nunc Wallace," said Llwellyn, pale and trembling.
+
+The man looked keenly at his two hosts. Then he sat down in a chair.
+
+"Well, gentlemen," he said in correct English, but with a curious lack
+of _timbre_, of life and feeling in his voice--he spoke as one might
+think a corpse would speak--"I'm sorry to say that it's all off. It
+simply can't be done at any price. Even I myself, 'King of the boys' as
+they call me, confess myself beaten."
+
+Schuabe gave a sudden start, almost of relief it seemed.
+
+Llwellyn cleared his throat once or twice before he could speak. When
+the words came at length there was a nauseous eagerness in them.
+
+"Why not, Wallace? Surely _you_ and your friends--it must be something
+very hard that you can't manage."
+
+The words jostled each other in their rapid utterance.
+
+"Give me a drink, Sir Robert, and I'll tell you the reason," said the
+man.
+
+Then, with an inexpressible assumption of confidence and an identity of
+interests, which galled and stung the two wretched men till they could
+hardly bear the torture of it, he began:
+
+"You see, it's like this; we can generally calculate on 'putting a man
+through it' if he's anything to do with racing on the Turf. I've seen a
+man's face kicked liver colour, and no one knew who did it. But this
+parson was a more difficult thing altogether. Then it has been very much
+complicated by the fact of his friend coming back.
+
+"The idea was to get into the chambers on the evening of this Spence's
+arrival and put them both through it. In fact, we'd arranged everything
+fairly well. But two nights ago, as I was in the American bar, at the
+Horsecloth, a man touched me on the arm. It was Detective Inspector
+Melton. He knows everything. 'Nunc,' he said, 'sit down at one of these
+little tables and have a drink. I want to say a few words to you.' Well,
+of course I had to. He knows every one of the boys.
+
+"'Now, look here,' he said straight out. 'Some of your crowd have been
+watching the Rev. Basil Gortre of Lincoln's Inn; also, you've had a man
+at Charing Cross waiting for the continental express. Now, I've nothing
+against you _yet_, but I'll just tell you this. The people behind you
+aren't any guarantee for you. It's not as you think. This is a big
+thing. I'll tell you something more. This Mr. Gortre and this Mr.
+Spence you're waiting for are guarded night and day by order of the Home
+Secretary. It's an international affair. You can no more touch them than
+you can touch the Prince of Wales. Is that clear? If it's not, then
+you'll come with me at once on suspicion. I can put my finger on Bunny
+Watson'--he's my organising pal, gentlemen--'inside of an hour.'"
+
+He stopped at last, taking another drink with a shaking hand, watching
+the other two with horribly observing eyes.
+
+His cleverness had at once shown him that he had stumbled into something
+far more dangerous than any ordinary incident of his horrid trade. A
+million pounds would not have made him touch the "business" now. He had
+come to say this to his employers now.
+
+The unhappy men became aware that the man was looking at them both with
+a new expression. There was wonder in his cold eyes now, and a sort of
+fear also. When Llwellyn had first sought him with black and infamous
+proposals, there had been none of this. _That_ had seemed ordinary
+enough to him, the reason he did not inquire or seek to know.
+
+But now there was inquiry in his eyes.
+
+Both Schuabe and Llwellyn saw it, knew the cause, and shuddered.
+
+There was a tense silence, and then the creature spoke again. There was
+a loathsome confidential note in his voice.
+
+"Now, gentlemen," he said, "you've already paid me well for any little
+kindness I may have been able to try to do for you. I suppose, now that
+the little job is 'off,' I shall not get the rest of the sum agreed
+upon?"
+
+Schuabe, without speaking, made a sign to Llwellyn. The big man got up,
+went to a little nest of mahogany drawers which stood on his
+writing-table, and opening one of them, took from it a bundle of notes.
+
+He gave them to the assassin. "There, Nunc," he said; "no doubt you've
+done all you could. You won't find us ungrateful. But I want to ask you
+a few questions."
+
+The man took the notes, counted them deliberately, and then looked up
+with a gleam of satisfied greed passing over his face--the gleam of a
+pale sunbeam in hell.
+
+"Ask anything you like, sir," he said; "I'll give you any help I can."
+
+Already there was a ring almost of patronage in his voice. The word
+"help" was slightly emphasised.
+
+"This inspector, who is he exactly? I mean, is he an important person?"
+
+"He is the man who has charge of all the big things. He goes abroad when
+one of the big city men bunk to South America. He generally works
+straight from the Home Office; he's the Government man. To tell the
+truth, I was surprised to meet _him_ in the Horsecloth. One of the
+others generally goes there. When _he_ began to talk, I knew that there
+was something important, more than usual."
+
+"He definitely said that he knew your--backers?"
+
+"Yes, he did; and what's more, gentlemen, he seemed to know too much
+altogether about the business. I don't pretend to understand it. _I_
+don't know why a young parson and a press reporter are being looked
+after by Government as if they were continental sovereigns and the
+Anarchists were trying to get at them--no more than I know why two such
+gentlemen as you are wanting two smaller men put through it. But all's
+well that ends well. _I'm_ satisfied enough, and I'm extremely glad that
+I got this notice in time to stop it off. But whatever you do,
+gentlemen, give up any idea of doing those two any harm. You couldn't do
+it--couldn't get near them. Give it up, gentlemen. Somehow or other,
+they know all about it. Be careful. Now I'm off. Good-day, gentlemen.
+Look after yourselves. I fear there is trouble brewing somewhere, though
+it won't come through _me_. They can't _prove_ anything on our side."
+
+He went slowly out of the room, back into the darkness of the pit whence
+he came, to the dark which mercifully hides such as he from the gaze of
+dwellers under the heavens.
+
+Only the police of London know all about these men, and their
+imaginations are not, perhaps, strong enough to let the horror of
+contact remain with them.
+
+When he had gone, Llwellyn sank heavily into a chair. He covered his
+face with his hands and moaned.
+
+"Oh, fool that I was to try anything of the sort!" hissed Schuabe. "I
+might have known!"
+
+"What is the state of things, really, do you suppose?" said Llwellyn.
+
+"Imminent with doom for us!" Schuabe answered in a deep and melancholy
+voice. "It is all clear to me now. Your woman was set on to you by these
+men from the first. They are clever men. Michael Manichoe is behind them
+all. She got the story. Spence has been sent to verify it. He has got
+everything from Ionides. The Government has been told. These things have
+been going on during the last few hours. Spence has cabled something of
+his news, perhaps not all. He will be back to-day, this afternoon. He
+will have left Paris by now, and almost be nearing Amiens. In that
+train, Llwellyn, lies our death-warrant. Nothing can stop it. They will
+send the news all over the world to-night. It will be announced in
+London by dinner-time, probably."
+
+Llwellyn groaned again. In this supreme hour of torture the sensualist
+was nearer collapse than the ascetic. His life told heavily. He looked
+up. His face was green-grey save where, here and there, his fingers had
+pressed into, and left red marks upon, the cheeks, which had lost their
+firmness and begun to be pendulous and flabby.
+
+"What do you think must be the end?" he said.
+
+"The end is here," said Schuabe. "What matters the form or manner of it?
+They may bring in a bill and hang us, they will certainly give us penal
+servitude for life, but probably we shall be torn in pieces by the mob.
+There is only one thing left."
+
+He made an expressive gesture. Llwellyn shuddered.
+
+"All is not necessarily at an end," he said. "I shall make a last effort
+to get away. I have still got the clergyman's clothes I wore when I went
+to Jerusalem. There will be time to get out of London before this
+evening."
+
+"All over the continent and America you would be known. There is no
+getting away nowadays. As for me, I shall go down to my place in
+Manchester by the mid-day train. There is just time to catch it. And
+there I shall die before they can come to me."
+
+He got up and strode away out of the flat with a set, stern face. Never
+a passing look did he give to the man he had enriched and damned for
+ever. Never a gesture of farewell.
+
+Already he was as one in the grave. Llwellyn, left to himself in the
+silent, richly furnished flat, fell into hysterical sobbing.
+
+His big body shook with the vehemence of his unnatural terror. His moans
+and cries were utterly without dignity or pathos. He was filled with the
+immense self-pity of the sensualist.
+
+It is the added torture which comes to the evil-liver.
+
+In the hour of blackness, every moment of physical gratification or sin
+adds its weight to the terrible burden which must be borne.
+
+This man felt that he was lost. Perhaps all hope was not quite dead. He
+called on all his courage to make a last attempt at escape.
+
+He must leave this place at once. He would go first to his house in
+Upper Berkeley Street, Lady Llwellyn's house! His wife.
+
+Something strange and long forgotten moved within him at that word. What
+might not his life have been by her side, a life lived in open honour!
+What had he done with it all? His great name, his fame, were built up
+slowly by his long and brilliant work. Yet all the time that fair
+edifice was being undermined by secret workers. The lusts of the flesh
+were deep below the structure, their hammers were always slowly
+tapping--and now it was all over.
+
+He drove up to his own door, unlocked it, and went up the stairs to his
+own rooms.
+
+Though he had not been near them for weeks, he saw--with how keen a pang
+of regret--that they were swept and tidy, ready for his coming at any
+time.
+
+He rang the bell.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+DEATH COMING WITH ONE GRACE
+
+
+The door opened softly. A long beam of late winter sunshine which had
+been pouring in at the opposite window and striking the door with its
+projection of golden powder suddenly framed, played over, and lighted up
+the figure of Lady Llwellyn.
+
+Sir Robert stood in the middle of the pleasant room and looked at her.
+
+The sunlight showed up the grey pallor of her face, the lines of sorrow
+and resignation, the faded hair, the thin and bony hands.
+
+"Kate," he said in a weak voice.
+
+It was the first time he had called her by her name for many years.
+
+The tired face lit up with a swift and divine tenderness.
+
+She made a step forward into the room.
+
+He was swaying a little, giddy, it seemed.
+
+She looked him full in the face and saw things there which she had
+never seen before. A great horror was upon him, a frightful awakening
+from the long, sensual sloth of his life.
+
+Moving, working, in that great countenance, generally so impassive,
+uninfluenced by any emotion--at least to her long watchings--except by a
+moody irritation, she saw Doom, Fate, the Call of the Eumenides.
+
+It came to the poor woman in a sudden wave of illuminating certainty.
+
+She _knew_ the end had come.
+
+And yet, strangely enough, she felt nothing but a quickening of the
+pulses, a swift embracing pity which was almost a joy in its breaking
+away of barriers.
+
+If the end were here, it should be together--at last together.
+
+For she loved this cruel, sinning man, this lover of light loves, this
+man of purple, fine linen, and the sparkling deadly wines of life.
+
+"Kate!"
+
+He said it once more.
+
+Her manner changed. Shrinking, timidity, fear, fled for ever. In her
+overpowering rush of protecting love all the diffidences of temperament,
+all the bars which he had forced her to build around her instincts, were
+swept utterly away.
+
+She went quickly up to him, folded him in her arms.
+
+"Robert!" she said, "poor boy, the end has come to it all. I knew it
+must come some day. Well, we have not been happy. I wonder if _you_ have
+been happy? No, I don't think so. But now, Robert, you have me to
+comfort you with my love once more, my poor Robert, once more, as in the
+old, simple days when we were young."
+
+She led him to a couch.
+
+He trembled violently. His decision of movement seemed to have gone.
+His purpose of flight had for the moment become obscure.
+
+And now, into this man's heart came a remorse and regret so awful, a
+realisation so sudden and strong, so instinct with a pain for which
+there is no name, that everything before his eyes turned to burning
+fire.
+
+The flames of his agony burnt up the veils which had for so long
+obscured the truth. They shrivelled and vanished.
+
+Too late, too late, he knew what he had lost.
+
+The last agony wrenched his brain round again to another and more
+terrible contemplation.
+
+His thoughts were in other and outside hands, which pulled his brain
+from one scene to another as a man moves the eye of the camera obscura
+to different fields of view.
+
+Incredible as it may seem, for the first time Llwellyn _realised what he
+had done_--realised, that is, in its entirety, the whole horror and
+consequences of that action of his which was to kill him now.
+
+He had not _been able_ to see the magnitude and extent of his crime
+before--either at the time when it was proposed to him, except at the
+first moment of speech, or after its committal.
+
+His brain and temperament had been wrapped round in the hideous fact of
+sensuality, which deadens and destroys sensation.
+
+And now, with his wife's thin arms round him, her withered cheek pressed
+to his, her words of glad love, a martyr's swan song in his ears, he
+_saw_, _knew_, and _understood_.
+
+Through the terror of his thoughts her words began to penetrate.
+
+"I know, Robert--husband, I know. The end is here. But what has
+happened? Tell me everything, that I may comfort you the more. Tell me,
+Robert, _for the dear Christ's sake_!"
+
+At those words the man stiffened. "For the dear Christ's sake!"
+
+Suddenly, in the disorder and tumult of his tortured brain, came, quite
+foolishly and inconsequently, a quotation from an old French
+romance--full of satire and the keen cynicism of a period--which he had
+been reading:
+
+     "_'Tres volontiers,' repartit le demon.
+     'Vous aimez les tableaux changeans;
+     Je veux vous contenter.'_"
+
+Yes! the devil who was torturing him now had shown him many moving
+aspects of life. _Les tableaux changeans!_
+
+But now, at last, here was the worst moment of all.
+
+"_For the dear Christ's sake, tell me, Robert!_"
+
+How could he tell _this_?
+
+This was his last moment of peace, his last chance of any help or hope.
+
+He had begun to cling to her, to mingle foolish tears with hers--the
+while his fired brain ranged all the halls of agony.
+
+For if he told her--this gentle Christian lady, to whom he had been so
+unkind--then she would never touch him more.
+
+The last hours--there was but little time remaining--would be alone.
+ALONE!
+
+This new revelation that her love was still his, wonder of mysteries!
+this came at the last moments to aid him.
+
+A last grace before the running waters closed over him. Was he to give
+this up?
+
+The thought of flight lay like a wounded bird in his brain. It crept
+about it like some paralysed thing. Not yet dead, but inactive. Though
+he knew how terribly the moments called to him, yet he could not act.
+
+The myriad agonies he was enduring now, agonies so various and great
+that he knew Hell had none greater, these, even these were alleviated by
+the wonder of his wife's love.
+
+The terrible remorse that was knocking at his heart could not undo that.
+
+He clung to her.
+
+"Tell me all about it, Robert. I will forgive you, whatever you have
+done. I have long ago forgiven everything in my heart. There are only
+the words to say."
+
+She rested her worn, tired head on his shoulder. The sunbeams gave it a
+glory.
+
+Again the man must suffer a terrible agony. She had asked him to tell
+her all his trouble in a voice full of gentle pleading.
+
+_Whose voice did her voice recall to him; what fatal hour?_ A coarser
+voice, a richer voice, trembling, so he had thought, with love for him.
+
+"_Tell me everything, Bob!_" It was Gertrude's voice.
+
+The day of his undoing! The day when his horrid secret was wrested from
+him by the levers of his own passions. The day which had brought him to
+this. _Finis coronat opus!_
+
+But the agony within him was the agony of _contrast_.
+
+The great fires round his soul had burnt his lust away. There was no
+more regret or longing for the evil past. All the joys of a sensual life
+seemed as if they had never been. Now, the pain was the pain of a man,
+not who knows the worst too soon, but who knows the best too late!
+
+A vivid picture, a succession of thoughts following each other with such
+kinetic swiftness that they became welded in one single picture, as one
+may see a vast landscape of wood and torrent, champaign and forest, in
+one flash of the storm sword, came to him now.
+
+And, at the last, he saw himself seated at a great table in a noble
+room. There were soft lights. Silver and flowers were there. Round the
+board sat many men and women. On their faces was the calm triumph of
+those who had succeeded in a fine battle, won an intellectual strife.
+The faces were calm, powerful, serene. They were the salt of society. He
+saw his own face in a little mirror set among the flowers. His face was
+even as their faces. Self-reverence had dignified it, self-knowledge and
+self-control had turned the lines to kindly marble, defiant of time.
+
+At the other end of the table sat a calm and gracious lady, richly
+dressed in some glowing sombre stuff. She was the grave and loving
+matron who slept by his side.
+
+Full of honour, full of the glorious satisfaction of a great work well
+done, a life lived well; hand in hand, a noble and notable pair, they
+were making their fine progress together.
+
+"I am waiting, Robert, dear!"
+
+Then he knew that he must speak. In rapid words, which seemed to come
+from a vast distance, he confessed it all.
+
+He told her how Schuabe had tempted him with a vast fortune, how he was
+already in his power when the temptation had come. How his evil desires
+had so gripped him, his life of sin had become like air itself to him.
+
+He told of the secret visit to Palestine and the forgery which had
+stirred the world.
+
+As he spoke, he felt, in some subtle way, that the life and warmth were
+dying out of the arms which were round him.
+
+The electric current of devotion which had been flowing from this lady
+seemed to flicker and die away.
+
+The awful story was ended at last.
+
+Then with a face in which the horror came out in waves, inexpressibly
+terrible to see, with each beat of the pulses a wave of unutterable
+horror, she slowly rose.
+
+Her arms fell heavily to her sides, all her motions became automatic,
+jerky.
+
+Slowly, slowly, she turned.
+
+Her feet made no noise as she moved over the room. Her garments did not
+rustle. But she walked, not as an elderly woman, but a very old woman.
+
+The door clicked softly. He was left alone in the comfortable room.
+
+Alone.
+
+He stood up, tottered a few steps in the direction she had gone, and
+then, with a resounding crash which shook the furniture in a succession
+of quick rattles, his great form fell prone upon the floor.
+
+He lay there, head downwards, with the sunshine pouring on him, still
+and without any reactionary movement.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The afternoon was begun. London was as it had been for days. The
+uneasiness and unrest which were now become the common incubus of its
+inhabitants neither grew nor lessened.
+
+The afternoon papers were merely repetitions of former days. Great
+financial houses were tottering, rumours of wars were growing every
+hour, no country was at rest, no colony secure. Over the world
+lawlessness and rapine were holding horrid revel.
+
+But, and long afterwards, this fact was noticed and commented on by the
+historians: on this especial winter's afternoon there was no
+ultra-alarming shock, speaking comparatively, to the general state of
+things.
+
+In the pale winter sunshine men moved heavily about their business, the
+common burden was shared by all, but there was no loud trumpet note
+during those hours.
+
+About four o'clock some carriages drove to Downing Street. In one sat
+Sir Michael Manichoe, Father Ripon, Harold Spence, and Basil Gortre.
+
+In another was the English Consul at Jerusalem, who had arrived with
+Spence from the Holy City, Dr. Schmoeulder from Berlin, and the Duke of
+Suffolk.
+
+The carriages stopped at the house of the Prime Minister and the party
+entered.
+
+Nothing occurred, visibly, for an hour, though urgent messages were
+passing over the telephone wires.
+
+In an hour's time a cab came driving furiously down the Embankment,
+round by the new Scotland Yard and St. Stephen's Club, into Parliament
+Street.
+
+The cab contained the Editor of the _Times_. Following his arrival, in a
+few seconds, a number of other cabs drove up, all at a fast pace. Each
+one contained a prominent journalist. Ommaney was among the first to
+arrive, and Folliott Farmer was with him.
+
+It was nearly an hour when these people left Downing Street, all with
+very grave faces.
+
+A few minutes after their departure Sir Michael and his party came out,
+accompanied by several ministers, including the Home Secretary and the
+Chief Commissioner of Police.
+
+Though the distance to Scotland Yard is only a few hundred yards, the
+latter gentleman jumped into a passing hansom and was driven rapidly to
+his office.
+
+This brings the time up to about six o'clock.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was quite dark in Sir Robert's room. A faint yellow flicker came
+through the window, which was not curtained, from a gas lamp in the
+street. A dull and distant murmur from the Edgeware Road could be dimly
+heard, otherwise the room was quite silent.
+
+Llwellyn did not lie where he had fallen. His swoon had lasted long and
+no one had come to succour him. But the end was not just yet. The
+merciful oblivion of passing from a swoon into death was denied him.
+
+He had come to his senses late in the afternoon, about the time that the
+large party of people had emerged on foot and in carriages from the
+narrow _cul-de-sac_ of Downing Street.
+
+He had felt very cold, an icy-cold. There had come a terrible moment.
+The physical sensation was swamped and forgotten in one frightful flash
+of realisation. He was alone, the end was at hand.
+
+Alone.
+
+Instinctively he had tried to rise. He was lying face downwards at the
+return of sensation. His legs would not answer the message of his brain
+when he tried to move them so that he might rise. They lay like long
+dead cylinders behind him. He was able to drag himself very slowly, for
+a yard or two, until he reached an ottoman. He could not lift the vast
+weight of his body into the seat. It was utterly beyond his strength. He
+propped his trunk against the seat. It was all he was able to
+accomplish. Icy-cold sweat ran down his cheeks at the exertion. After he
+had finished moving he found that all strength had left him.
+
+He was paralysed from the waist downwards. The rest of his body was too
+weak to move him.
+
+Only his brain was working with a terrible activity, there alone in the
+chill dark.
+
+There came into his molten brain the impulse to pray. Deep down in every
+human heart that impulse lies.
+
+It is a seed planted there by God that it may grow into the tree of
+salvation.
+
+The effort was sub-conscious. Almost simultaneously with it came the
+awful remembrance of what he had done.
+
+A name danced in letters of flame in his brain--JUDAS.
+
+He looked round for some means to end this unbearable torture. He could
+see nothing, the room was very cold and dark, but he knew there was a
+case of razors on a table by the window.
+
+When he tried to move he found that he could not. The paralysis was
+growing upwards.
+
+Then this was to be the end?
+
+A momentary flood of relief came over him. His blood seemed warm again.
+
+But the sensation died rapidly away, the physical and mental glow alike.
+
+He remembered those cases, frequent enough, when the whole body loses
+the power of movement, but the brain survives, active, alive, helpless.
+
+And all the sweat which the physical glow had induced turned to little
+icicles all over his body, even as the thought froze in his brain.
+
+An hour went by.
+
+Alone in the dark.
+
+His tongue was parched and dry. A sudden wonder came to him--could he
+speak still?
+
+Without realising what word he used as a test he spoke.
+
+"Kate."
+
+A gaunt whisper in the silence.
+
+Silence! How silent it was! Yet no, he could hear the distant rumbling
+of the traffic. He became suddenly conscious of it. Surely it was very
+loud?
+
+It must be this physical change which was creeping over him. His head
+was swimming, disordered.
+
+Yet it seemed strangely loud.
+
+And louder, as he began to listen intently. He could not move his head
+to catch the sound more clearly, but he was beginning to hear it well
+enough now.
+
+No traffic ever sounded quite like that. It was like an advancing tide,
+thundering, as a horse gallops, over flat, level sands.
+
+A great sea rushing towards--towards what?
+
+Then he knew what that sound was.
+
+At last he knew.
+
+He could hear the individual shouts that made up the enormous mass of
+menacing sound.
+
+The nation was coming to take its revenge upon its betrayer.
+
+Mob law!
+
+They had found him out. It was as Schuabe had said--the great conspiracy
+was at an end. The stunning truth was out, flying round the world with
+its glad message.
+
+Yet, though once more the dishonoured Cross gleamed as the one solace in
+the hearts of men whose faith had been weak, though at that moment the
+glad news was racing round the world, yet the evil was not over.
+
+The Prince of the Powers of the air had reigned too long. Not lightly
+was he to relinquish his sceptre and dominion.
+
+They were in the erst-while quiet street below. The whole space was
+packed with the roaring multitude. The cries and curses came up to him
+in one roaring volume of sound, sounds that one looking over the brink
+of the pit of hell might hear.
+
+A heavy blow upon the stout door of the old well-built house shook the
+walls where the palsied Judas lay impotent.
+
+Another crash! The room was much lighter now, the crowd below had lights
+with them.
+
+Crash.
+
+The door opened silently. Lady Llwellyn came swiftly into the room.
+
+She wore a long white robe. Her face was lighted as if a lamp shone
+behind it.
+
+In her hand was the great crucifix which was wont to hang above her bed.
+
+When Christ died and bade the dying thief ascend with him to Paradise,
+can we say that His silence condemned the other?
+
+Her face was all aglow with love.
+
+"Robert!" she said. Her voice was like the voice of an angel.
+
+Her arms are round him, her kisses press upon him, the great crucifix is
+lifted to his dying eyes.
+
+A great thunder on the stairs, furious voices, the tide rising higher,
+higher.
+
+Death.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+AT WALKTOWN AGAIN
+
+
+The news came to Walktown, the final confirmation of what had been so
+long suspected, in a short telegram from Basil, dispatched immediately
+he had left Downing Street.
+
+Mr. Byars and Helena had been kept well acquainted with every step in
+the progress of the investigation.
+
+Ever since Gortre had left Walktown, after his holiday visit, his
+suspicions had been ringing in the vicar's ears.
+
+Then, when the matter had been communicated to Sir Michael and Father
+Ripon, when Spence had started, and Mr. Byars knew that all the powers
+of wealth and intellect were at work, his hopes revived.
+
+The vicar's faith had never for a single moment wavered.
+
+In the crash of the creeds his deep conviction never wavered.
+
+The light burned steadily before the altar.
+
+He had been one of the faithful thousands, learned, simple, Methodist,
+ritualist, who _knew_ that this thing could not be.
+
+Nevertheless his courage had been failing him. Life seemed to have lost
+its sweetness, and often he humbly wondered when he should die, hoping
+that the time was not too long--not without a tremulous belief that God
+would recognise that he had fought the good fight and kept the faith.
+
+In his own immediate neighbourhood the consequences of the "Discovery"
+nearly broke his heart. He had no need to look beyond Walktown. Even the
+great political events which were stirring the world had left him
+unmoved. His own small corner of the vineyard, now, alas! so choked with
+rank, luxuriant growth, was enough for this faithful pastor. Here he saw
+nothing but vice suddenly rearing its head and threatening to overwhelm
+all else. He heard the Holy Names blasphemed with all the inventions of
+obscene imaginations, assailed with all the wit of full-blooded men
+amazed and rejoiced that they could stifle their consciences at last.
+And this after all his life-work among these folk! He had given them of
+his best. His prayers, his intellect, much of his money had been theirs.
+
+How insolently they had exulted over him, these coarse and vulgar
+hearts!
+
+When Basil had first told Mr. Byars of his suspicions the vicar can
+hardly have been blamed for regarding them sadly as the generous effects
+of a young and ardent soul seeking to find an _immediate_ way out of the
+_impasse_.
+
+The elder man knew that fraud had been at work, but he suspected no such
+modern and insolent attempt as Basil indicated. It was too much to
+believe. Gortre had left him most despondent.
+
+But his interest had soon become quickened and alive, as the private
+reports from London reached him.
+
+When he knew that great people were moving quietly, that the weight of
+Sir Michael was behind Gortre, he knew at once that in all probability
+Basil's suspicions were right.
+
+A curious change came over the vicar's public appearances and
+utterances. His sermons were full of fire, almost Pauline in their
+strength. People began to flow and flock into the great empty church at
+Walktown. Mr. Byars's fame spread.
+
+Then, swiftly, after the first week or two, had come the beginning of
+the great financial depression.
+
+It was felt acutely in Manchester.
+
+All the wealthy, comfortable, easy-going folk who grudgingly paid a
+small pew-rent out of their superfluity became alarmed, horribly
+alarmed. The Christianity which had sat so lightly upon them that at
+first opportunity they had rushed into the Unitarian meeting-houses
+became suddenly a very desirable thing.
+
+In the fall of Christianity they saw their own fortunes falling. And
+these self-deceivers would be swept back upon the tide of this reaction
+into the arms of the Anglican mother they had despised.
+
+The vicar saw all this. He was a keen expert in, and student of, human
+affairs, and withal a psychologist. He saw his opportunity.
+
+His words lashed and stung these renegades. They were made to see
+themselves as they were; the preacher cut away all the ground from under
+them. They were left face to face with naked shame.
+
+What puzzled and yet uplifted the congregation at St. Thomas's was their
+vicar's extraordinary _certainty_ that the spiritual darkness over the
+land was shortly to be removed.
+
+It was commented on, keenly observed, greatly wondered at.
+
+"Mr. Byars speaks," said Mr. Pryde, a wealthy solicitor, "as if he had
+some private information about this Palestine discovery. He is so
+confident that he magnetises one into his own state of mind, and Byars
+is not a very emotional man either. His conviction is _real_. It's not
+hysteria."
+
+And, being a shrewd, silent man, the solicitor formed his own
+conclusions, but said nothing of them.
+
+The church continued full of worshippers.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When the news from Basil came, the vicar was sitting before the fire in
+his lighted study. He had been expecting the telegram all day.
+
+His brain had been haunted by the picture of that distinguished figure
+with the dark red hair he had so often met.
+
+Again he saw the millionaire standing in his drawing-room proffering
+money for scholarships. And in Dieppe also!
+
+How well and clearly he saw the huge figure of the _savant_ in his coat
+of astrachan, with his babble of soups and _entree_!
+
+Try as he would, the vicar could not hate these two men. The sin, the
+awful sin, yes, a thousand times. Horror could not be stretched far
+enough, no hatred could be too great for such immensity of crime.
+
+But in his great heart, in his large, human nature there was a Divine
+_pity_ for this wretched pair. He could not help it. It was part of him.
+He wondered if he were not erring in feeling pity. Was not this, indeed,
+that mysterious sin against the Holy Ghost for which there was no
+forgiveness? Was it not said of Judas that for his deed he should lie
+for ever in hell?
+
+The telegram was brought in by a neat, unconcerned housemaid.
+
+Then the vicar got up and locked the inner door of his study. He knelt
+in prayer and thanksgiving.
+
+It was a moment of intense spiritual communion with the Unseen.
+
+This good man, who had given his vigorous life and active intellect to
+God, knelt humbly at his study table while a joy and happiness not of
+this earth filled all his soul.
+
+At that supreme moment, when the sense of the glorious vindication of
+Christ flooded the priest's whole being with ecstasy, he knew, perhaps,
+a faint foreshadowing of the life the Blessed live in Heaven.
+
+For a few brief moments that imperfect instrument, the human body, was
+permitted a glimpse, a flash of the eternal joy prepared for the saints
+of God.
+
+The vicar drew very near the Veil.
+
+Helena beat at the door; he opened to her, the tall, gracious lady.
+
+She saw the news in her father's face.
+
+They embraced with deep and silent emotion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two hours later the vicarage was full of people.
+
+The news had arrived.
+
+Special editions of the evening papers were being shouted through the
+streets. Downing Street had spoken, and in Manchester--as in almost
+every great city in England--the Truth was pulsing and throbbing in the
+air, spreading from house to house, from heart to heart.
+
+Every one knew it in Walktown now.
+
+There was a sudden unanimous rush of people to the vicarage.
+
+Each big, luxurious house all round sent out its eager owners into the
+night.
+
+They came to show the pastor, who had not failed them in the darkness,
+their joy and gratitude now that light had come at last.
+
+How warm and hearty these North-country people were! Mr. Byars had never
+penetrated so deeply beneath the somewhat forbidding crust of manner and
+surface-hardness before.
+
+Mingled with the sense of shame and misery at their own lukewarmness,
+there was a fine and genuine desire to show the vicar how they honoured
+him for his steadfastness.
+
+"You've been an example to all of us, vicar," said a hard-faced,
+brassy-voiced cotton-spinner, a kindly light in his eyes, his lips
+somewhat tremulous.
+
+"We haven't done as we ought to by t' church," said another, "but you'll
+see that altered, Mr. Byars. Eh! but our faith has been weak! There'll
+be many a Christian's heart full of shame and sorrow for the past months
+this night, I'm thinking."
+
+They crowded round him, this knot of expensively dressed people,
+hard-faced and harsh-spoken, with a warmth and contrition which moved
+the old man inexpressibly.
+
+Never before had he been so near to them. Dimly he began to think he saw
+a wise and awful purpose of God, who had allowed this iniquity and
+calamity that the faith of the world might be strengthened.
+
+"We'll never forget what you've done for us, Mr. Byars."
+
+"If we've been lukewarm before, vicar, 't will be all boiling now!"
+
+"Praise God that He has spoken at last, and God forgive us for
+forgetting Him."
+
+The air was electric with love and praise.
+
+"Will you say a prayer, vicar?" asked one of the churchwardens. "It
+seems the time for prayer and a word or two like."
+
+The company knelt down.
+
+It was a curious scene. In the richly furnished drawing-room the group
+of portly men and matrons knelt at chairs and sofas, stolid,
+respectable, and middle-aged.
+
+But here and there a shoulder shook with suppressed emotion, a faint sob
+was heard. This, to many of them there, was the greatest spiritual
+moment they had ever known. Confirmation, communion, all the episodic
+mile-stones of the professing Christian's life had been experienced and
+passed decorously enough. But the inward fire had not been there. The
+deep certainty of God's mysterious commune with the brain, the deep love
+for Christ which glows so purely and steadfastly among the saints still
+on earth--these were coming to them now.
+
+And, even as the fires of the Paraclete had descended upon the Apostles
+many centuries before, so now the Holy Spirit began to stir and move
+these Christians at Walktown.
+
+The vicar offered up the joy and thanks of his people. He prayed that,
+in His mercy, God would never again let such extreme darkness descend
+upon the world. Even as He had said, "Neither will I again smite any
+more every thing living, as I have done."
+
+He prayed that all those who had been cast into spiritual darkness, or
+who had left the fold of Christ, might now return to it with contrite
+hearts and be in peace.
+
+Finally, they said the Lord's Prayer with deep feeling, and the vicar
+blessed them.
+
+And for each one there that night became a precious, helpful memory
+which remained with them for many years.
+
+Afterwards, while servants brought coffee, always the accompaniment to
+any sort of function in Walktown, the talk broke out into a hushed
+amazement.
+
+The news which had been telegraphed everywhere consisted of a statement
+signed by the Secretary of State and the archbishops that the discovery
+in Palestine was a forgery executed by Sir Robert Llwellyn at the
+instigation of Constantine Schuabe.
+
+"Ample and completely satisfying evidence is in our possession," so the
+wording ran. "We render heartfelt gratitude to Almighty God that He has
+in His wisdom caused this black conspiracy to be discovered. The thanks
+of the whole world, the gratitude of all Christians, must be for those
+devoted and faithful men who have been the instruments of Providence in
+discovering the Truth. Sir Michael Manichoe, the Rev. Basil Gortre, the
+Rev. Arthur Ripon, and Mr. Harold Spence have alone dispelled the clouds
+that have hung over the Christian world."
+
+It was a frightful shock to these people to know how a great magnate
+among them, a business _confrere_, the member for their own division, an
+intimate, should have done this thing.
+
+As long as the world lasted the Owner of Mount Prospect who had spoken
+on their platforms would be accursed. It was too startling to realise at
+once; the thought only became familiar gradually, in little jerks, as
+one aspect after another presented itself to their minds.
+
+It was incredible that this antichrist had been long housed among them
+but a mile from where they stood.
+
+"What will they do to him?"
+
+"Who can say! There's never been a case like it before, you see."
+
+"Well, the paper doesn't say, but I expect they've got them safe enough
+in London--Mr. Schuabe and the other fellow."
+
+"Just to think of our Mr. Gortre helping to find it out! Pity we ever
+let him go away from the parish church."
+
+"They can't do less than make him a bishop, I should think."
+
+"Miss Byars, you ought to be proud of your young man. There's many folk
+blessing him in England this night."
+
+And so on, and so forth; simple, homely speeches, not indeed free from a
+somewhat hard commercial view, but informed with kindliness and
+gratitude.
+
+At last, one by one, they went away. It was close upon midnight when the
+last visitor had departed.
+
+The vicar read a psalm to his daughter:
+
+     "_Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to
+     thy word. For mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou hast
+     prepared before the face of all people._"
+
+Basil was to come to them on the morrow for a long stay.
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE
+
+IN THREE PICTURES
+
+     NOTE.--_The three pictures all synchronise. The episodes they
+     portray take place five years after the day upon which Sir Robert
+     Llwellyn died._--G. T.
+
+
+I. THE GRAVE
+
+Two figures walked over the cliffs.
+
+The day was wild and stormy. Huge clouds, bursting with sombre light,
+sailed over the pewter-coloured sea. The bleak magnificence of the moor
+stretched away in endless billows, as sad and desolate as the sea on
+which no sail was to be seen.
+
+The wayfarers turned out of the struggle of the bitter wind into a
+slight depression. A few scattered cottages began to come into the field
+of their vision.
+
+Soon they saw the whitewashed buildings of a coast-guard station and the
+high, square tower of a church.
+
+"So it's all settled, Spence," said one of the men, a tall, noble-faced
+man, dressed as a clerk in Holy Orders.
+
+"Yes, Father Ripon," Spence said. "They have offered me the paper. It
+was one of poor Ommaney's last wishes. Of course, we were injured in our
+circulation by the fact that we were the first to publish the news of
+the great forgery. But in two years Ommaney had brought the paper to the
+front again. He was wonderful, the first editor of his age.
+
+"I was there with Folliott Farmer and the doctors when he died. Fancy,
+it was the first time I had ever been in his flat, though we had worked
+together all these years! The simplest place you ever saw. Just a couple
+of rooms, where he slept all the daytime. No luxury, hardly even
+comfort. Ommaney had no existence apart from his work. He'd saved nearly
+all his very large salary for many years. I am an executor of his will.
+He left a legacy to Farmer, and to me also, and the rest to the
+Institute of Journalists. But I am persuaded that he did not care in the
+least what happened to his money. He never did. He wasn't mean in any
+way, but he worked all night and slept all day, and simply hadn't any
+use for money. A good-hearted man, a very brilliant editor, but utterly
+detached from any _personal_ contact with life."
+
+Father Ripon's keen face, still as eager and powerful as before, set
+into lines of thought.
+
+He sighed a little. "A modern product," he said at length. "A modern
+product, a sign of the times. Well, Spence, a power is entrusted to you
+now such as no priest can enjoy. I pray that your editorship of this
+great paper will be fine. Try to be fine always. I believe that the Holy
+Spirit will be with you."
+
+They rose up towards the moor again. "There's the church," said Spence,
+"where she lies buried. Gortre sees that the grave is kept beautiful
+with flowers. It was an odd impulse of yours, Father, to propose this
+visit."
+
+"I do odd things sometimes," said the priest, simply. "I thought that
+the sight of this poor woman's resting-place might remind you and me of
+what has passed, of what she did for the world--though no one knows it
+but our group of friends. I hope that it will remind us, remind you very
+solemnly, my friend, in your new responsibility, of what Christ means to
+the world. The shadows of the time of darkness, 'When it Was Dark'
+during the 'Horror of Great Darkness,' have gone from us. And this poor
+sister did this for her Saviour's sake."
+
+They stood by Gertrude Hunt's grave as they spoke.
+
+A slender copper cross rose above it, some six feet high.
+
+"I wonder how the poor girl managed it," said Spence at length; "her
+letter was wonderfully complete. Sir Michael--Lord Fencastle, I
+mean--showed it me some years ago. She was wonderfully adroit. I suppose
+Llwellyn had left papers about or something. But I do wonder how she did
+it."
+
+"That," said Father Ripon, "was what she would never tell anybody."
+
+"_Requiescat in pace_," said Spence.
+
+"In Paradise with Saint Mary of Magdala," the priest said softly.
+
+
+THE SECOND PICTURE
+
+_Quem Deus Vult Perdere._
+
+The chaplain of the county asylum stood by the castellated red brick
+lodge at the end of the asylum drive, talking to a group of young
+ladies.
+
+The drive, which stretched away nearly a quarter of a mile to the
+enormous buildings of the asylum, with their lofty towers and warm,
+florid architecture, was edged with rhododendrons and other shrubs.
+
+The gardens were beautifully kept. Everything was mathematically
+straight and clean, almost luxurious, indeed.
+
+The girls were three in number, young, fashionably dressed. They talked
+without ceasing in an empty-headed stream of girlish chatter.
+
+They were the daughters of a great ironfounder in the district, and
+would each have a hundred thousand pounds.
+
+The chaplain was showing them over the asylum.
+
+"How sweet of you, Mr. Pritchard, to show us everything!" said one of
+the girls. "It's awfully thrilling. I suppose we shall be quite safe
+from the violent ones?"
+
+"Oh, yes," said the chaplain, "you will only see those from a distance;
+we keep them well locked up, I assure you."
+
+The girls laughed with him.
+
+The party went laughing through the long, spotless corridors, peeping
+into the bright, airy living-rooms, where bodies without brains were
+mumbling and singing to each other.
+
+The imbecile who moved vacantly with slobbering lip, the dementia
+patient, the log-like, general paralytic--"G. P."--_things_ which must
+be fed, the barred and dangerous maniac, they saw them all with pleasant
+thrills of horror, disgust, and sometimes with laughter.
+
+"Oh, Grace, _do_ look at that funny little fat one in the corner--the
+one with his tongue hanging out! Isn't he _weird_?"
+
+"There's one actually _reading_! He _must_ be only pretending!"
+
+A young doctor joined them--a handsome Scotchman with pleasant manners.
+
+For a time the lunatics were forgotten.
+
+"Well, now, have we seen _all_, Doctor Steward?" one of the girls said.
+"All the worst cases? It's really quite a new sensation, you know, and I
+always go in for new sensations."
+
+"Did ye show the young leddies Schuabe?" said the doctor to the
+chaplain.
+
+"Bless my soul!" he replied, "I must be going mad myself. I'd quite
+forgotten to show you Schuabe."
+
+"Who is Schuabe?" said the youngest of the sisters, a girl just fresh
+from school at Saint Leonards.
+
+"Oh, _Maisie_!" said the eldest. "Surely you remember. Why, it's only
+five years ago. He was the Manchester millionaire who went mad after
+trying to blow up the tomb of Christ. I think that was it. It was in all
+the papers. A young clergyman found out what he'd been trying to do, and
+then he went mad--this Schuabe creature, I mean, not the clergyman."
+
+"Every one likes to have a look at this patient," said the doctor. "He
+has a little sleeping-room of his own and a special attendant. His money
+was all confiscated by order of the Government, but they allow two
+hundred a year for him. Otherwise he would be among the paupers."
+
+The girls giggled with pleasurable anticipation.
+
+The doctor unlocked a door. The party entered a fairly large room,
+simply furnished. In an arm-chair a uniformed attendant was sitting,
+reading a sporting paper.
+
+The man sprang up and saluted as he heard the door open.
+
+On a bed lay the idiot. He had grown very fat and looked healthy. The
+features were all coarsened, but the hair retained its colour of dark
+red.
+
+He was sleeping.
+
+"Now, Miss Clegg, ye'd never think that was the fellow that made such a
+stir in the world but five years since. But there he lies. He always
+eats as much as he can, and goes to sleep after his meal. He's waking up
+now, sir. Here, Mr. Schuabe, some ladies have come to see you."
+
+_It_ got up with a foolish grin and began some ungainly capers.
+
+"Thank you _so_ much, Mr. Pritchard," the girls said as they left the
+building. "We've enjoyed ourselves so much."
+
+"I liked the little man with his tongue hanging out the best," said one.
+
+"Oh, Mabel, you've _no_ sense of humour! That Schuabe creature was the
+funniest of _all_!"
+
+
+THE THIRD PICTURE
+
+A Sunday evensong. The grim old Lancashire church of Walktown is full of
+people. The galleries are crowded, every seat in the aisles below is
+packed.
+
+This night, Easter night, the church looks less forbidding. The harsh
+note is gone, something of the supreme joy of Holy Easter has driven it
+away.
+
+Old Mr. Byars sits in his stall. He is tired by the long, happy day, and
+as the choir sings the last verse of the hymn before the sermon he sits
+down.
+
+The delicate, intellectual face is a little pinched and transparent. Age
+has come, but it is to this faithful priest but as the rare bloom upon
+the fruits of peace and quiet.
+
+How the thunderous voices peal in exultation!
+
+Alleluia!
+
+Christ is risen! The old man turned his head. His eyes were full of
+happy tears. He saw his daughter, a young and noble matron now, standing
+in a pew close to the chancel steps. He heard her pure voice, full of
+triumph. Christ is risen!
+
+From his oak chair behind the altar rails Dean Gortre came down towards
+the pulpit.
+
+Young still--strangely young for the dignity which they had pressed on
+him for two years before he would accept it--Basil ascended the steps.
+
+Christ is risen!
+
+The organ crashed; there was silence.
+
+All the lights in the church were suddenly lowered to half their height.
+
+The two candles in the pulpit shone brightly on the preacher's face.
+
+They all saw that it was filled with holy fire.
+
+Christ is risen!
+
+     "IF CHRIST BE NOT RISEN YOUR FAITH IS VAIN"
+
+The church was absolutely still as the words of the text rang out into
+it.
+
+The people were thinking humbly, with contrite hearts, of the shame five
+years ago.
+
+     "Would that our imagination, under the conduct of Christian faith,
+     could even faintly realise the scene when the Human Soul of Our
+     Lord came with myriads of attendant angels to the grave of Joseph,
+     to claim the Body that had hung upon the cross.
+
+     "To-night, with the promise and warrant of our own resurrection
+     that His has given us, our thoughts involuntarily turn to those we
+     call the dead. We feel that this Easter is for them also an
+     occasion of rejoicing, and that the happiness of the earthly Church
+     is shared by the loving and beloved choir behind the veil.
+
+     "Christ is risen! Away with the illusions which may have kept us
+     from Him. Let us also arise and live. For, as the spouse sings in
+     the Canticles, 'The winter is past, ... the time of the singing of
+     birds is come; ... arise, my love, my fair one, and come away!'"
+
+Christ is risen!
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[1] This article has already been seen in the preceding chapter.
+
+[2] This particular instance of the Nurie woman is _not_ all fiction. An
+incident much resembling it actually occurred to a well-known writer on
+the intimate life of Eastern peoples. For the purposes of the narrative
+the _locale_ has been changed from the Jaffa Road--where the event took
+place--to Jerusalem itself.
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
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+
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+
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+
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+     Author of "When It Was Dark."
+
+     Crown Octavo----$1.50
+
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+
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+
+
+
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+
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+
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+
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+
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+     A Novel Dealing with the Life of the Rich in New York
+
+     By JOHN D. BARRY
+     Author of "The Congressman's Wife," "Mademoiselle Blanche," "A
+     Daughter of Thespis," etc.
+
+     Now in its Second Edition. Crown Octavo. Cloth, $1.50.
+
+     It is one of the most interesting descriptions of modern society
+     since "The Breadwinners," supposed to be written by John Hay. A
+     witty and cleverly drawn picture, as sure in its touch and as
+     effective in its results as a Gibson drawing.
+         _Town and Country._
+
+     The book will attract the "initiated" because the author has caught
+     the real key-note.
+         _The Independent._
+
+     Exceedingly clever in many ways. Although it is a really brilliant
+     satire, there is no bitterness. On the contrary, an air of almost
+     blissful good-humor pervades every page.
+         _St. Paul Pioneer-Press._
+
+     G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+
+     New York     London
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
+
+Punctuation has been silently corrected where there are obvious errors.
+
+Words with hyphens and accents have been standardised.
+
+Italics are indicated by underscores _like this_.
+
+Words in Greek script are indicated by equals-signs, =like this=.
+
+The following corrections of typographical errors have been made:
+
+    "refined and, artistic" to "refined and artistic" (p.3)
+
+    "tolerent" to tolerant" (p. 29)
+
+    "it forget to jeer" to "it forgot to jeer" (p. 49)
+
+    "Salonika cigarrette" to "Salonika cigarette" (p. 53)
+
+    "forty thousands pounds" to "forty thousand pounds" (p. 67)
+
+    "volumn" to "volume" (p. 72)
+
+    "lines cames out upon it" to "lines came out upon it" (p. 90)
+
+    "weathly banker" to "wealthy banker" (p. 107)
+
+    "Dieppe its true significance" to "Dieppe--its true significance"
+    (p. 108)
+
+    "become more resonant" to "became more resonant" (p. 112)
+
+    "Schaube" to "Schuabe" (p. 193)
+
+    "Sanhedrim of the great" to "Sanhedrin of the great" (p. 235)
+
+    "Neirsteiner" to "Niersteiner" (p. 242)
+
+    "in amazemen" to "in amazement" (p. 261)
+
+    "Sir Ulang Pass" to "Sri Ulang Pass" (p. 293)
+
+    "rising but of the sea" to "rising out of the sea" (p. 323)
+
+    "Exellency" to "Excellency" (p. 350)
+
+    "the lastest visitor" to "the last visitor" (p. 384)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of When It Was Dark, by Guy Thorne
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN IT WAS DARK ***
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