diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:13:21 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:13:21 -0700 |
| commit | e85d7f702c38bb1d10ee95936ad4429c5b67aa4e (patch) | |
| tree | 8a93581bf51150d097bb602dbf506094da9dc0f8 /39666-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '39666-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 39666-h/39666-h.htm | 16660 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 39666-h/images/con_sig.png | bin | 0 -> 4433 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 39666-h/images/frontispiece.png | bin | 0 -> 56171 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 39666-h/images/logo-1.png | bin | 0 -> 1013 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 39666-h/images/sticker.png | bin | 0 -> 5447 bytes |
5 files changed, 16660 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/39666-h/39666-h.htm b/39666-h/39666-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a41e275 --- /dev/null +++ b/39666-h/39666-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16660 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of When it was Dark, by Guy Thorne. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +.p03 {margin-top: 1.3em;} +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p1plus {margin-bottom: 1.25em; font-size: 1.1em;} +.p2bc {margin-bottom: 2em; text-align: center;} +.p2b {margin-bottom: 2em;} +.p2tb {margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} +.p3b {margin-bottom: 3em;} +.p4b {margin-bottom: 4em;} +.p4bc {margin-bottom: 4em; text-align: center;} +.pinset {text-indent: 1em;} +.pinset3 {text-indent: 3em; margin-top: 2em;} +.pinset3a {text-indent: 3em; margin-top: 2em; font-weight: bold;} +.pinset6 {margin-left: 6em; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +.pinset8 {margin-left: 8em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +.pinset10 {margin-left: 10em; margin-bottom: 2em;} +.pinset11 {margin-left: 11em; margin-bottom: .75em;} +.pinset11a {margin-left: 11em; margin-bottom: 2em;} +.inright {text-align: right; margin-right: 10%} +.padleft {padding-left: 1.5em;} + +.box { + margin: auto; + width: 25%; + border: 2px solid black; + text-align: center; + padding-top: 0.5em; + padding-bottom: 0.5em; +} + +.box2 { + margin: auto; + width: 50%; + border: 2px solid black; + text-align: center; + padding-top: 0.5em; + padding-bottom: 0.5em; +} +.dropcap { + float: left; + padding-right: 3px; + font-size: 250%; + line-height: 83%; +} + +hr.tb {width: 30%; margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;} + +hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1.5em;} +hr.r10 {width: 10%; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} +hr.r20 {width: 20%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 3em;} +hr.r30 {width: 30%; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdlw {text-align: left; width: 30em;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} +.tdrt {text-align: right; vertical-align: top;} +.tdrb {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: .75em; + font-style: normal; + text-align: right; + color: #ACACAC; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnotes { + font-weight: bold; + text-indent: 2em; + background-color: #F5F8EC; + padding-top: 1em; + padding-bottom: 0.5em; +} + +.footnote { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + text-indent: 0em; + font-size: 0.9em; + font-weight: normal; +} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:smaller; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + margin-left:20%; + margin-right:20%; + width:60%; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; } + + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<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. </td><td class="tdlw"><span class="smcap">An Incident by Way of Prologue</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">II. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In the Vicar's Study</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">6</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> III. </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> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">IV. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Smoke Cloud at Dawn</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">33</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">V. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Lost Soul</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">45</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">VI. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Whisper</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">56</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> VII. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Last Words at Walktown</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">69</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">VIII. </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> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">IX. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Inauguration</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">95</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">X. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Resurrection Sermon</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">107</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XI. </td><td class="tdl">"<span class="smcap">Neither do I Condemn Thee</span>"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">116</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> XII. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Powers of Good and Evil</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">126</a> </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. </td><td class="tdlw"><span class="smcap">While London was Sleeping</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_Ib">141</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">II. </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> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> III. </td><td class="tdl">"<span class="smcap">I, Joseph</span>"</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIIb">178</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">IV. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Domestic Chaplain's Testimony</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IVb">184</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">V. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Deus, Deus Meus, Quare Dereliquisti!</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_Vb">194</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdrt">VI. </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.—Jer. xlvi: 4</span></td><td class="tdrb"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIb">205</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> VII. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Hour of Chaos</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIb">212</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">VIII. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The First Links</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIIb">225</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdrt">IX. </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> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">X. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Triumph of Sir Robert Llwellyn</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_Xb">245</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">XI. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Progress</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIb">256</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> XII. </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> </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. </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> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">II. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Cyril Hands Redux</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIc">283</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdrt"> III. </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—Is. xviii: 3</span></td><td class="tdrb"><a href="#CHAPTER_IIIc">289</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">IV. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Luncheon Party</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IVc">302</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">V. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">By the Tower of Hippicus</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_Vc">322</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">VI. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Under the Eastern Stars: towards Gerizim</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIc">342</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> VII. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Last Meeting</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIc">356</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">VIII. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Death Coming with One Grace</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIIIc">364</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr">IX. </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">At Walktown Again</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IXc">376</a> </td></tr> +<tr><td class="tdr"> </td><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Epilogue</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#EPILOGUE">385</a> </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—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,—the stole and hood were always worn +at Walktown,—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—</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—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—for Mr. Schuabe the millionaire and Robert +Llwellyn the scholar, taking tea together in the Athenæum +Club three hundred miles away in London.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"—<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,—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.</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,—for +his parochial life was all contention,—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—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.</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 Jésus</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 primæval 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—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—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"—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——"</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—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>... "—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."</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-Edhamîyeh—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.—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—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 sententiæ</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—" +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—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."</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—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—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:</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'—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 mediæval 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—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.</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—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—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!</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!—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—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—</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—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."</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—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."</p> + +<p>Gortre smiled a little sadly,—a rather wan smile, which +sat strangely upon his strong and hearty face—, but he +said no more.</p> + +<p>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.</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—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—a kiss so +strong and loving, so pure and sweet, that he went +away from that little room of books and <i>bric-à-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,—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.</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 archæological 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 archæology, 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—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—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>café</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—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 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.</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—I have sometimes thought it a little +too bare and fantastic—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—Jacobean +work it seemed.</p> + +<p>A few pictures here and there in spaces between the +shelves—the hectic flummery of a Whistler nocturne; a +woman <i>avec cerises</i>, by Manet; a green silk fan, painted +with <i>fêtes gallantes</i>, by Conder—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. Müller'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—all +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +the luxuries and <i>éditions 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—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—if it might so be that God, +who watched him, would speak a message of help—and +opened it at random.</p> + +<p>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.</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—</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—</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 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<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—mark this +essential corollary—<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>—Christianity—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—I firmly believe—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—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—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—?" 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——"</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—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—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—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<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>,—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 manœuvres in the future as +your—shall I say <i>infatuation</i>?—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—Friday—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—half snarl, half<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +groan—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—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—a woman's +hand:—</p> + +<blockquote><p class="inright"> + +"<span class="smcap">15 Bloomsbury Court Mansions.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Bob</span>—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—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.</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—that +Heaven might receive them all some day.</p> + +<p>The maid brought up some dinner for the Professor—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—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—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—</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—"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-scène</i>—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—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—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—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—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 <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—it's liver, I suppose—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>,—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.—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>coupé</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—rejecting +the smaller French variety—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>kümmel</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——"</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—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."</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—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."</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—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,—"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:—</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—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."</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—" 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 château +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—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:—</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 château.</p> + +<p>They passed over the railway line in the middle of the +road, and past the <i>cafés</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>café</i>, 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.</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>déjeuner</i> was ready for them.</p> + +<p>The omelette was a revelation to Helena, and the +<i>rognons sautés</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 Café 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>apéritif</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 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<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 +mediæval 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—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.</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 ——, 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—even +in adjacent Dieppe—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—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.</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>café</i>.</p> + +<p>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.</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—"<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>café</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—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>café</i> 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.</p> + +<p>They had all turned at Helena's exclamation and +looked towards the other side of the <i>café</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,—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—white +stock of course—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—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—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 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.</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—"<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—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—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—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—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.</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—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—after a sea voyage +which she regards as a sort of Columbus adventure. So +fall to—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—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.—<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, <br /> +"St Mary's, Bloomsbury.</span> +</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Gortre</span>,—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.—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—when he remembers +to eat at all—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—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—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!"</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—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—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>—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.</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—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 <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—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<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 +archæologist 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—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—"<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 Apôtres</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—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—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,—an institution at the Vicarage +after the labours of the busiest day in the week,—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—viewing +the thing from a standpoint of personal +experience—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—say +that the worldly surroundings and so forth kill their +good impulses—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—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—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—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—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.</p> + +<p>He was asking the tremendous question—</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,—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—Chopin's +wild music of melancholy and fire—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—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—even those of the most lofty +character—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—that "telepathy" +which, in a few more years, will have its definite recipes +and formulæ.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>As usual, the worthy man was hungry, and the <i>débris</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—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—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,—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!—I'll take one of these +apples—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—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—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—"Sir +Robert Llwellyn."</p> + +<p>Gortre started violently.</p> + +<p>"I know him," he said thickly. "I felt when I met +him—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>—for +she is going to do nothing of the sort—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—Damocles-like +for some blow to fall—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,—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.</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—old +Egyptian or something—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—Lucifers!—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—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,—the duties of St. Mary's were very heavy,—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,—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>,—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—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.</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—a clergyman too!—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 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.</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—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.</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-être</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—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?"</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—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—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—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—a +veritable <i>peau de chagrin</i>!—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—like a bed of orchids, surrounded by +heavy, poisonous scents—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—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-mâché</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—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—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 Arimathæa, 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—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</i>——"</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>——"</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>——"</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. 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. <i>If this news is +true</i>—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<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——"</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——"</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>"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.—<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—he was an absolute teetotaler +as a rule, though not pledged in any way to abstinence—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—the whole great world!—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. 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."</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 ——. It is making +an appointment for me in an hour's time. He <i>must</i> +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 —— <i>must</i> see the +note. Bring me back the answer as rapidly as you can."</p> + +<p>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.</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 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 <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—one +of the most autocratic and important people connected +with the paper—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—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?"</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—indispensable, +and earning his six hundred a year—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—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 —— 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—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—"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—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—</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—while nothing was yet known and Harold +Spence was rushing through Amiens <i>en route</i> for Paris +and the East—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—"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.</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—and +those hostile—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>à +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 Cæsar" +will, I allow myself to imagine, not be an unlikely text +for his homily.—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——"</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 fé</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—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,—"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——"</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>châtelaine</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—almost laughable were it not so <i>bizarre</i>—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—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.</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—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.</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—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—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.</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>—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."</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 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.</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>kôkîm</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.—Editor, Daily Wire.</i>]</p> + +<p class="pinset11">FACSIMILE IN MODERN GREEK SCRIPT</p> + +<p class="pinset11"> +Εγωιωσηφοαποαριμαθειαςλαβω<br /> +ντοσωματουιησουτουαπονα**<br /> +ρεταποτουμνημειουοπουτοπρωτ<br /> +ονεκειτοεντωτοπωτουτωενεκρυψα<br /> +</p> +<p class="pinset11a">** = lacunæ 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>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</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 ARIMATHÆA, 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. Schmöulder, 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. Schmöulder, 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 +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.</p> + +<p>"The use of the first aorist 'ἐνεκρυψα,' '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 'κεκρυφα,' '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——"</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—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—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."</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—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."</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—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<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—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."</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—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."</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—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."</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—Hands, Schmöulder—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 archæologists 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 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, <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 archæological<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 Schmöulder, +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>—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."</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>—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>—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>—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 Schmöulder, in the +red earth <i>débris</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 +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.<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 —— is in sympathy with it.</p> + +<p>"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<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—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."</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.—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—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.</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—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.'—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—'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—alas, how often has it +been so!—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 +archæologists, 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 coronæ +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—very dark and terrible ones, I fear—I +want you to give me a <i>résumé</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—Sir Michael Manichoe's—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,—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—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."</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——, 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 +<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"—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, +<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—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—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?"</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—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."</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 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, +<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—that was the woman's +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +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."</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—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"—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,—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—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."</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>débris</i> of a supper, a <i>pâté</i>, some long-necked +bottles which had held Niersteiner, a hideous +box of pink satin and light blue ribbons half full of <i>glacé</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"—he swallowed something +in his throat—"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—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 <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—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."</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>débâcle</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—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 archæologist was ordering dinner for himself +and a guest with much thought and care.</p> + +<p class="center"> +<i>Crême d'asperge à la Reine</i> +</p> + +<p>in his neat writing, the letters distinct from one another—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 à l'Amiral</i> promised well; the plump, powerful +fingers wrote it down.</p> + +<p><i>Poulardes du Mans rôties</i> with <i>petits pois à la Française</i> +with a <i>salade Niçoise</i> to follow; that would be excellent! +Then just a little <i>suprème de pêches, à la Montreuil</i>, +which is quite the best kind of <i>suprème</i>, then some <i>Parmesan</i> +before the coffee.</p> + +<p>"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 <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>apéritif</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 +manœuvres 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—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—" 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——?"</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—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—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 à terre</i> 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.</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—" +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—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 +<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—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 +<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—once +from Alexandria, from one or two places on the Continent, +<i>and twice from the German hotel</i>, <i>the</i> 'Sabîl,' <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—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."</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——"</p> + +<p>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.</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—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—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,—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 +<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—the rouge-pot, the belladonna—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,—</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,—</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—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,—</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>,—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—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——"</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—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.—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> 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—Moses Goldstein, +of Goldstein & 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—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>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——"</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—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—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—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——</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 æsthetic 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—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—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—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—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.</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.—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>).—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, 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."</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—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—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—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—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—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—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"> +Εγω Ιωσηφ ὁ ἀπο Αριμαθειας.<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—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>"—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>"—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—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—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-scène</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—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—just over there in the +centre—that he had bought the brain and soul of the +archæologist.</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—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—had been so once at least—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—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—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—and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> +he thought of it with anger and the old amazement—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—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.</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—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.</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—?</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 & 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—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—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—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-être</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—now smooth and calm—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>dénouement</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—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—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—a +great forgery, for instance—<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—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!"</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 Kümmel 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—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—." 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—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—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—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——"</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—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.</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—these were the undistinguished companions +of the journalist.</p> + +<p>The steward clapped his hands; <i>déjeuner</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—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.</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—only +thirty miles beyond this Eastern town—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,—through the orange +groves,—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—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.</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>rôle</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—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—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."</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—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—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—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.</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 Mûristan 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—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.</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—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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</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 Nurié 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 Mûristan 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—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—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 Bîâr 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 +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.</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—" 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—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—"I am here on a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span> +mission for my newspaper—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—a sketch of his life and work here in Jerusalem—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 Nabulûs, 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—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 Nabulûs.</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 Nabulûs.</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—for it +would be little less than that—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—the lonely song-bird of these +solitudes—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—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 Fatmé.</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 Nabulûs.</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—some +coffee, Monsieur?—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-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."</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—<i>ça +m'est égal</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—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.</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>"—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—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!</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?—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?—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—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.</p> + +<p>Constantine Schuabe, in the moment when he saw this +man—knowing well who and what he was—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—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."</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—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'—he's my organising pal, gentlemen—'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—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—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—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—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—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—with +how keen a pang of regret—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—at least to +her long watchings—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—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>—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—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—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—full of satire and +the keen cynicism of a period—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 démon.<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—the while his fired brain ranged all the halls +of agony.</p> + +<p>For if he told her—this gentle Christian lady, to whom +he had been so unkind—then she would never touch him +more.</p> + +<p>The last hours—there was but little time remaining—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. +Schmöulder 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—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—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—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—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—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>entrée</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—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.</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—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>confrère</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—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>—<i>The three pictures all synchronise. The episodes +they portray take place five years after the day upon +which Sir Robert Llwellyn died.</i>—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—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—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."</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—"G. +P."—<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—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—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—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—strangely young for the dignity which +they had pressed on him for two years before he would +accept it—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 Nurié 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—where +the event took place—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—- $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—G. P. Putnam's Sons—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 />—<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 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 <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 +rôles.</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> <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 />—<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 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 *** + +***** This file should be named 39666-h.htm or 39666-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/6/6/39666/ + +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.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/39666-h/images/con_sig.png b/39666-h/images/con_sig.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5173d77 --- /dev/null +++ b/39666-h/images/con_sig.png diff --git a/39666-h/images/frontispiece.png b/39666-h/images/frontispiece.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4c8e487 --- /dev/null +++ b/39666-h/images/frontispiece.png diff --git a/39666-h/images/logo-1.png b/39666-h/images/logo-1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2a8c41b --- /dev/null +++ b/39666-h/images/logo-1.png diff --git a/39666-h/images/sticker.png b/39666-h/images/sticker.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bd835b8 --- /dev/null +++ b/39666-h/images/sticker.png |
