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diff --git a/39666-8.txt b/39666-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8ef8de1 --- /dev/null +++ b/39666-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13797 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of When It Was Dark, by Guy Thorne + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license + + +Title: When It Was Dark + The Story of a Great Conspiracy + +Author: Guy Thorne + +Release Date: May 10, 2012 [EBook #39666] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN IT WAS DARK *** + + + + +Produced by Mark C. Orton, Margo Romberg and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + + ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ + + + + + _By GUY THORNE_ + + + + + + When It Was Dark + + + The Story of a Great Conspiracy + + + 12º. (By mail, $1.35) _Net_, $1.20 + + + + + + A Lost Cause + + + 12º $1.50 + + + + + + G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS + + + _New York and London_ + + + + + ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ + + + + + WHEN IT WAS DARK + + + + + When It Was Dark + + The Story of a Great Conspiracy + + By + + Guy Thorne + + G. P. Putnam's Sons + New York and London + The Knickerbocker Press + 1906 + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1904 + BY + G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS + + Published, January, 1904 + Reprinted, May, 1904; September, 1904 + December, 1904; September, 1905 + October, 1905; November, 1905; January, 1906 + + The Knickerbocker Press, New York + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BOOK I. + +CHAPTER PAGE + + I. An Incident by Way of Prologue 1 + + II. In the Vicar's Study 6 + + III. "I Think he is a Good Man" 23 + + IV. The Smoke Cloud at Dawn 33 + + V. A Lost Soul 45 + + VI. The Whisper 56 + + VII. Last Words at Walktown 69 + +VIII. A Dinner at the Pannier d'Or 77 + + IX. Inauguration 95 + + X. The Resurrection Sermon 107 + + XI. "Neither do I Condemn Thee" 116 + + XII. Powers of Good and Evil 126 + + +BOOK II. + + I. While London was Sleeping 141 + + II. Avoiding the Flower Pattern on the Carpet 165 + + III. "I, Joseph" 178 + + IV. The Domestic Chaplain's Testimony 184 + + V. Deus, Deus Meus, Quare Dereliquisti! 194 + + VI. Harness the Horses; and Get up, ye Horsemen, + and Stand forth with your Helmets, Furbish + the Spears, and Put on the Brigandines--Jer. + xlvi: 4 205 + + VII. The Hour of Chaos 212 + +VIII. The First Links 225 + + IX. Particular Instances, Contrasting the Old + Lady and the Special Correspondent 233 + + X. The Triumph of Sir Robert Llwellyn 245 + + XI. Progress 256 + + XII. A Soul alone on the Sea-Shore 262 + + +BOOK III. + + I. What it Meant to the World's Women 271 + + II. Cyril Hands Redux 283 + + III. All ye Inhabitants of the World, and + Dwellers on the Earth, See ye, when He + Lifteth up an Ensign on the Mountains--Is. + xviii: 3 289 + + IV. A Luncheon Party 302 + + V. By the Tower of Hippicus 322 + + VI. Under the Eastern Stars: towards Gerizim 342 + + VII. The Last Meeting 356 + +VIII. Death Coming with One Grace 364 + + IX. At Walktown Again 376 + + Epilogue 385 + + + + +BOOK I + +"The mystery of iniquity doth already work." + + + + +WHEN IT WAS DARK + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AN INCIDENT BY WAY OF PROLOGUE + + +Mr. Hinchcliffe, the sexton, looked up as Mr. Philemon, the clerk, +unlocked the great gates of open ironwork which led into the street. +Hinchcliffe was cutting the lettering on a tombstone, supported by heavy +wooden trestles, under a little shed close to the vestry door of the +church. + +The clerk, a small, rotund man, clerical in aspect, and wearing a round +felt hat, pulled out a large, old-fashioned watch. "Time for the bell, +William," he said. + +The parish church was a large building in sham perpendicular. It stood +in a very central position on the Manchester main road, rising amid a +bare triangle of flat gravestones, and separated from the street +pavement only by high iron railings. + +It was about half-past four on a dull autumn afternoon. The trams swung +ringing down the black, muddy road, and the long procession of great +two-wheeled carts, painted vermilion, carried coal from the collieries +six miles away to the great mills and factories of Salford. + +The two men went into the church, and soon the tolling of a deep-voiced +bell, high up in the pall of smoke which lay over the houses, beat out +in regular and melancholy sound. + +Inside the building the noise of the traffic sank into a long, unceasing +note like the _bourdon_ note of a distant organ. + +Hinchcliffe tolled the bell in the dim, ugly vestibule with his foot in +a loop in the rope, sitting on the chest which held the dozen loaves +which were given away every Sunday to the old women in the free seats. + +The clerk opened the green baize swing-doors and strode up the aisle +towards the vestry, waking mournful echoes as the nails in his boots +struck the tiled floor. + +Saint Thomas's Church, the mother church of Walktown, was probably the +ugliest church in Lancashire. The heavy galleries, the drab walls, the +terrible gloom of the vast structure, all spoke eloquently of a chilly, +dour Christianity, a grudging and suspicious Sunday religion which +animated its congregation. + +In the long rows of cushioned seats, each labelled with the name of the +person who rented it, Sunday by Sunday the moderately prosperous and +wholly vulgar Lancashire people sat for two hours. During the prayers +they leaned forward in easy and comfortable concession to convention. +Few ever knelt. During the hymn times they stood up in their places +listening carefully to a fine choir of men and women--a choir which, +despite its vocal excellence, was only allowed to perform the most +stodgy and commonplace evangelical music. + +When the incumbent preached he was heard with the jealous watchfulness +which often assails an educated man. The renters of the pews desired a +Low Church aspect of doctrine and were intelligent to detect any +divergence from it. + +The colour of the building was sombre. The brick-red and styx-like grey +of the flooring, the lifeless chocolate front of the galleries, the +large and ugly windows filled with glass which was the colour of a +ginger-beer bottle, had all a definite quality of cheerless vulgarity. + +Philemon came out of the vestry door with a lighted taper. He lit two or +three jets of the corona over the reading-desk. Then he sat down in a +front pew close to the chancel steps and waited. + +The bell outside stopped suddenly, and a tall young man in a black +Inverness cape walked hurriedly up the side aisle under the gallery +towards the vestry. + +In less than a minute he came out again in surplice, stole, and +hood,--the stole and hood were always worn at Walktown,--went to the +reading-desk, and began to say Evensong in a level, resonant voice. + +At the end of each psalm Mr. Philemon recited the doxology with +thunderous assertion and capped each prayer with an echoing "Amen." + +The curate, Basil Gortre, was a young fellow with a strong, impressive +face. His eyes had the clearness of youth and looked out steadily on the +world under his black hair. His face was of that type men call a +"thoroughly honest" face, but, unlike the generality of such faces, it +was neither stubborn nor stupid. The clean-shaven jaw was full of power, +the mouth was refined and artistic, without being either sensual or +weak. + +During the Creed he turned towards the east, and the clerk's +uncompromising voice became louder and more acid as he noticed the +action; and when the clergyman, almost imperceptibly, made the sign of +the Cross at the words "The resurrection of the body," the old man gave +a loud snort of disapprobation. + +In deference to the congregation on Sundays, and at the wish of his +vicar, Gortre omitted these simple signs of reverence. But alone, at +Matins or Evensong, he followed his usual habit. + +During the last low prayers, as dusk crept into the great church, and +the clank and bells of the trams outside seemed to be more remote, a +part, indeed, of that visible but not symbolic ugliness which the gloom +was hiding, a note of fervour crept into the young man's praying which +had only been latent there before. + +He was reading the third collect when the few gas jets above his head +began to whistle, burnt blue for a few seconds, and then faded out with +three or four faint pops. + +Some air had got into the pipes. Old Mr. Philemon rose noisily from his +knees, and shuffled off to the vestry coughing and spluttering. Outside, +with startling suddenness, a piano organ burst into a gay, strident +melody. After a few bars the music stopped with a jerk. A police +constable had spoken to the organ-grinder and moved him on. + +Gortre's voice went on in a deep, fervent monotone, unmoved by the +darkness or the dissonance-- + + "_Lighten our darkness, we beseech Thee, O Lord; and by Thy great + mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night; for the + love of Thy only Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ._" + +The faithful, quiet voice, enduring through the dark, was a +foreshadowing of the great cloud which was breaking over the world, big +with disaster, imminent with gloom. It foreshadowed the divinely aided +continuance of Truth through such a terror as men had never known +before. + +It meant many things, that firm and beautiful voice--hope in the darkest +hour for thousands of dying souls, a noble woman's happiness in time of +dire stress and evil temptations and a death worse than the death Judas +died--for Mr. Schuabe the millionaire and Robert Llwellyn the scholar, +taking tea together in the Athenæum Club three hundred miles away in +London. + + "--_by Thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of + this night_." + +Mr. Philemon returned with a taper, an old and wrinkled acolyte, in time +with his loud and sonorous AMEN. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +IN THE VICAR'S STUDY + + +The vicarage of Walktown was a new and commodious house with tall +chimneys, pointed windows, and a roof of red tiles. + +It was more than a mile from the church, in the residential quarter of +the town. Here were no shops and little traffic. The solid houses of red +brick stood in their own rather dingy grounds, where, though the grass +was never really green, and spring came in a veil of smoky vapour when +the wind blew from the town, there was yet a rural suggestion. + +The trees rose from neatly kept lawns, the gravel sweeps of the drives +were carefully tended, and there was distant colour in the elaborate +conservatories and palm-houses which were to be seen everywhere. + +Mr. Pryde, the great Manchester solicitor, had his beautiful modern +house here. Sir John Neele, the wealthy manufacturer of disinfectants, +lived close by, and a large proportion of the well-to-do Manchester +merchants were settled round about. + +Not all of them were parishioners of Mr. Byars, the vicar of Walktown. +Many attended the more fashionable church of Pendleborough, a mile away +in what answered to the "country"; others were leaders in the Dissenting +and especially the Unitarian worlds. + +Walktown was a stronghold of the Unitarians. The wealthy Jews of two +generations back, men who made vast fortunes in the black valley of the +Irwell, had chosen Walktown to dwell in. Their grandsons had found it +more politic to abjure their ancient faith. A few had become +Christians,--at least in name, inasmuch as they rented pews at St. +Thomas's,--but others had compromised by embracing a faith, or rather a +dogma, which is simply Judaism without its ritual and ceremonial +obligations. The Baumanns, the Hildersheimers, the Steinhardts, +flourished in Walktown. + +It was people of this class who supported the magnificent concerts in +the Free Trade Hall at Manchester, who bought the pictures and read the +books. They had brought an alien culture to the neighbourhood. The vicar +had two strong elements to contend with,--for his parochial life was all +contention,--on the one hand the Lancashire natives, on the other the +wealthy Jewish families. + +The first were hard, uncultured people, hating everything that had not +its origin and end in commerce. They disliked Mr. Byars because he was a +gentleman, because he was educated, and because--so they considered--the +renting of the pews in his church gave them the right to imagine that he +was in some sense a paid servant of theirs. + +The second class of parishioners were less Philistine, certainly, but +even more hopeless from the parish priest's point of view. In their +luxurious houses they lived an easy, selfish, and sensual life, beyond +his reach, surrounded by a wall of indifferentism, and contemptuous of +all that was not tangible and material. At times the rector and the +curate confessed to each other that these people seemed more utterly +lost than any others with whom the work of the Church brought them in +contact. + +Mr. Byars was a widower with one son, now at Oxford, and one daughter, +Helena, who was engaged to Basil Gortre, the curate. + +About six o'clock the vicar sat in his study with a pile of letters +before him. The room was a comfortable, bookish place, panelled in pitch +pine where the walls were not covered with shelves of theological and +philosophical works. + +The arm-chairs were not new, but they invited repose; the large +engraving over the pipe-littered mantel was a fine autotype of Giacomo's +_St. Emilia_. The room was brightly lit with electric light. + +Mr. Byars was a man of medium height, bald, his fine, domed forehead +adding to his apparent age, and wore a pointed grey beard and moustache. +He was an epitome of the room around him. + +The volumes on his shelves were no ancient and musty tomes, but +represented the latest and newest additions to theological thought. + +Lathom and Edersheim stood together with Renan's _Vie de Jésus_ and +Clermont-Ganneau's _Recueil d'Arch. Orient_, and Westcott guarded them +all. + +The ivory crucifix which stood on the writing-table completed the +impression of the man. + +Ambrose Byars at forty-five was thoroughly acquainted with modern +thought and literature. His scholarship was tempered with the wisdom of +an active and clear-headed man of the world. His life and habits were +simple but unbigoted, and his broad-mindedness never obscured his +unalterable convictions. He lived, as he conceived it his duty to live +in his time and place, in thorough human and intellectual correspondence +with his environment, but one thought, one absolute certainty informed +his life. + +As year by year his knowledge grew greater, and the scientific criticism +of the Scriptures undermined the faith of weaker and less richly +endowed minds, he only found in each discovery a more vivid proof of the +truth of the Incarnation and the Resurrection. + +It was his habit in discussions to reconcile all apparently conflicting +antichristian statements and weave them into the fabric of his +convictions. He held that, even scientifically, historically, and +materially, the evidence for the Resurrection was too strong to be ever +overthrown. And beyond these intellectual evidences he knew that Christ +must have risen from the dead, because he himself had found Christ and +was found in Him. + +His attitude was a careful one with all its conciseness. An anecdote +illustrates this. + +One day, when walking home from a meeting of the School Board, of which +he was a member, he had met a parishioner named Baxter, the proprietor +of a small engineering work in the district. The man, who never came to +church, on what he called "principle," but spent his Sundays in bed with +a sporting paper, was one of those half-educated people who condemn +Christianity by ridiculing the Old Testament stories. + +They walked together, Baxter quoting the _Origin of Species_, which he +knew from a cheap epitomised handbook. + +"Do you really think, Mr. Byars," he had said, "do you really believe, +after Darwin's discovery, that we were made by a sort of conjuring trick +by a Supreme Power? Seven days of cooking, so to speak, and then a +world! Why, it's childish to expect thinking people to believe it. We +are simply evolved by scientific evolution out of the primæval +protoplasm." + +"Very possibly," said the vicar; "and who made the protoplasm, Mr. +Baxter?" + +The man was silent for a minute. "Then, Mr. Byars," he said at length, +"you do not believe the Old Testament--the Adam and Eve part, for +instance. You do not believe the Book on which your creed is founded." + +"There are such things as allegories," he had answered. "The untutored +brain must be taught the truth in such a way as it can receive it." + +The vicar lit his pipe and began to open his letters with a slight sigh. +Of all men, he sometimes felt, he was the least possible one for +Walktown. For twelve years he had worked there, and he seemed to make +little headway. He longed for an educated congregation. Here methods too +vulgar for his temperament seemed to be the only ones. + +The letters were all from applicants for the curacy which Gortre's +impending departure would shortly leave vacant. + +"It will be a terrible wrench to lose Basil," he said to himself; "but +it must be. He will have his chance and be far happier in London, in +more congenial environment. He would never be a great success in +Walktown. He has tried nobly, but the people won't understand him. They +would never like him; he's too much of a gentleman. How they all hate +breeding in Walktown! There is nothing for it, I can see. I must get an +inferior man this time. An inferior man will go down with them better +here. I only hope he will be a really good fellow. If he isn't, it will +be Jerrold over again--vulgar cabals against me, and all the women in +the place quarrelling and taking sides." + +He read letter after letter, and saw, with a humorous shrug of disgust, +that he would have little difficulty in engaging the "inferior" man of +his thoughts. + +The best men would not come to the North. Men of family with decent +degrees, Oxford men, Cambridge men, accustomed to decent society and +intellectual friends, knew far too much to accept a title in the +Manchester district. + +The applications were numerous enough, but obviously from second-rate +men, or at any rate from men who appeared to be so at first glance. + +A Durham graduate, 40, with five children, begged earnestly for the £120 +a year which was all Mr. Byars could offer. A few young men from +theological colleges wanting titles, a Dublin B.A., announcing himself +as "thoroughly Protestant in views"--they were a weary lot. A +non-collegiate student from Oxford with a second class in Theology, a +Manchester Grammar-School boy, whose father lived at Higher Broughton, +seemed to promise the best. He would be able to get on with the people, +probably. "I suppose I must have him, accent and all," the vicar said +with a sigh, "though I suppose it's prejudice to dislike the lessons +read with the Lancashire broad 'a' and short 'o.' St. Paul probably +spoke with a terrible local twang! and yet, I don't know, he was too +great to be vulgar; one doesn't like to think that----" + +Mr. Byars was certainly a difficult person for his congregation to +appreciate. + +He picked up the letter and was re-reading it when the door opened and +his daughter came in. + +Helena Byars was a tall girl, largely made and yet slender. Her hair was +luxuriant and of a traditional "heroine" gold. She was dressed with a +certain richness, though soberly enough, a style which, with its slight +hint of austerity, accentuated a quiet and delicate charm. So one felt +on meeting her for the first time. Sweet-faced she was and with an +underlying seriousness even in her times of laughter. Her mouth was +rather large, her nose straight and beautifully chiselled. The eyes were +placid, intelligent, but without keenness. There was an almost matronly +dignity about her quiet and yet decided manner. + +The vicar looked up at her with a smile, thinking how like her mother +the girl was--that grave and gracious lady who looked out of the picture +by the door, St. Cecilia in form and face. "Eh, but Helena she favours +her mother," Hinchcliffe, the sexton, had said with the frank +familiarity of the Lancashire workman soon after Mrs. Byars's funeral +four years ago. + +"I've brought _Punch_, father," she said, "it's just come. Leave your +work now and enjoy yourself for half an hour before dinner. Basil will +be here by the time you're finished." + +She stirred the fire into a bright glow, and, singing softly to herself, +left the study and went into the dining-room to see that the table +looked inviting for the coming meal. + +About seven o'clock Gortre arrived, and soon afterwards the three sat +down to dine. It was a simple meal, some fish, cold beef, and a pudding, +with a bottle of beer for the curate and a glass of claret for the +vicar. The housemaid did not wait upon them, for they found the meal +more intimate and enjoyable without her. + +"I've got some news," said Gortre. "The great question of domicile is +settled. You know there is no room in the clergy-house at St. Mary's. +Moreover, Father Ripon thought it well that I should live outside. He +wanted one of the assistant clergy, at least, to be in constant touch +with lay influences, he said when I saw him." + +"What have you arranged, dear?" said Helena. + +"Something very satisfactory, I think," he answered. "My first thought +was to take ordinary rooms in Bloomsbury. It would be near St. Mary's +and the schools. Then I thought of chambers in one of the Inns of Court. +At any rate I wrote to Harold Spence to ask his advice. He was at +Merton with me, you know, lived on the same staircase in 'Stubbins,' and +is just one of the best fellows in the world. We haven't corresponded +much during the last three years, but I knew a letter to the New Oxford +and Cambridge would always find him. So I wrote up. He's been University +Extension lecturing for a time, you know, and writing too. Now he tells +me that he is writing leaders for the _Daily Wire_ and doing very well. +I'll read you what he says." + +He took a letter from his pocket, glanced down it for the paragraph he +wanted, and began to read: + + ... "--and I am delighted to hear that you have at last made up + your mind to leave the North country and have accepted this London + curacy. I asked Marsh, our ecclesiastical editor, about St. Mary's + last night. He tells me that it is a centre of very important + Church work, and has some political and social influence. Of all + the 'ritualistic' parishes--I use the word as a convenient + label--it is thought to be the sanest. Here you will have a real + chance. I know something of the North, and came in contact with all + sorts and conditions of people when I was lecturing on the French + Revolution round Liverpool and Manchester for the Extension. They + are not the people for you to succeed with, either socially or from + a clergyman's point of view--at least, that's my opinion, old man. + You ask me about rooms. I have a proposal to make to you in this + regard. I am now living in Lincoln's Inn with a man named + Hands--Cyril Hands. You may know his name. He is a great + archæologist, was a young Cambridge professor. For three years now + he has been working for The Palestine Exploring Society. He is in + charge of all the excavations now proceeding near Jerusalem, and + constantly making new and valuable Biblical discoveries." + +The vicar broke in upon the reading. "Hands!" he said; "a most +distinguished man! His work is daily adding to our knowledge in a +marvellous way. He has just recently discovered some important +inscriptions at El-Edhamîyeh--Jeremiah's grotto, you know, the place +which is thought may be Golgotha, you know. But go on, I'm sorry to +interrupt." + +Gortre continued: + + "Hands is only at home for three months in the year, when he comes + to the annual meeting of the Society and recuperates at the + seaside. His rooms, however, are always kept for him. The chambers + we have are old-fashioned but very large. There are three big + bedrooms, a huge sitting-room, two smaller rooms and a sort of + kitchen, all inside the one oak. I have a bedroom and one small + room where I write. Hands has only one bedroom and uses the big + general room. Now if you care to come and take up your abode in the + Inn with us, I can only say you will be heartily welcome. Your + share of the expenses would be less than if you lived alone in + rooms as you propose, and you would be far more comfortable. You + could have your study to work in. Our laundress is nearly always + about, and there is altogether a pleasant suggestion of Oxford and + the old days in the life we lead. Of course I need hardly tell you + that we are very quiet and quite untroubled by any of the rowdy + people, all of whom live away from our court altogether. You would + be only five minutes' walk from St. Mary's. What do you think of + the idea? Let me know and I will give you all further details. I + hope you will decide on joining us. I should find it most + pleasant.--Ever yours, + + "HAROLD MASTERMAN SPENCE." + +"An extremely genial letter," said the vicar. "I suppose you'll accept, +Basil? It will be pleasant to be with friends like that." + +"Isn't it just a little, well, bachelor?" said Helena rather nervously. + +Gortre smiled at the question. + +"No, dear," he said. "I don't think you need be afraid. I know the sort +of visions you have. The sort of thing in _Pendennis_, isn't it? The boy +sent out for beer to the nearest public-house, and breakfast at twelve +in the morning, cooked in the sitting-room. You don't know Harold. He is +quite _bourgeois_ in his habits, despite his intellect, hates a muddle, +always dresses extremely well, and goes to church like any married man. +He was a great friend of the Pusey House people at Oxford." + +"The days when you couldn't be a genius without being dirty are gone," +said the vicar. "I am glad of it. I was staying at St. Ives last summer, +where there is quite an artistic settlement. All the painters carried +golf-clubs and looked like professional athletes. They drink Bohea in +Bohemia now." + +Gortre talked a little about his plans for the future. He had a +sympathetic audience. During the four years of his curacy at Walktown he +had become very dear to Mr. Byars. He had arrived in the North from +Oxford, after a year at Litchfield Theological College, just about the +time that Mrs. Byars had died. His help and sympathy at such a time had +begun a friendship with his vicar that had been firmly cemented as the +time went on, and had finally culminated in his engagement to Helena. He +had been the vicar's sole intellectual companion all this time, and his +loss would be irreparable. But both men felt that his departure was +inevitable. The younger man's powers were stifled and confined in the +atmosphere of the place. He had private means of his own, and belonged +to an old West-country family, and, try as he would he failed to +identify himself socially with the Walktown people. His engagement to +Helena Byars had increased his unpopularity. He would be far happier at +St. Mary's in London, at the famous High Church, where he would find all +those exterior accompaniments of religion to which he had been +accustomed, and which, though he did not exalt the shadow into the +substance, always made him happier when he was surrounded by them. + +He was to wait a year and then he would be married. There were no money +obstacles in the way and no reason for further delay. Only the vicar +looked forward with a sort of horror to his future loneliness, and tried +to put the thought from him whenever it came. + +After dinner Helena left the two men to smoke alone in the study. There +was a concert in the Town Hall to which she was going with Mrs. Pryde, +the solicitor's wife, a neighbour. Her friend's carriage called for her +about eight, and Gortre settled down for a long talk with the vicar on +parochial affairs. + +They sat on each side of the dancing fire, with coffee on a table +between them, quietly enjoying the after-dinner pipe, the best and +finest of the five cardinal pipes of the day. It was a comfortable +scene. The room was lighted only by a single electric reading-lamp with +a green shade, and the firelight flickered and played over the dull gold +and crimson of the books on the shelves, and threw red lights on the +shining ivory of the sculptured Christ. + +"I daresay this North-country man will do all right," said the vicar. +"He will be more popular than you, Basil." + +The young man sighed. "God knows I have tried hard enough to win their +confidence," he said sadly, "but it was not to be. I _can't_ get in +touch with them, vicar. They dislike my manners, my way of +speaking--everything about me. Even the landlady of my rooms distrusts +me because I decline to take tea with my evening chop, and charges me +three shillings a week extra because I have what she calls 'late +dinner'!" + +The vicar laughed. "At any rate," he said, "you have got hold of Leef, +your landlord; he comes to church regularly now." + +"Oh, Leef illustrates more than any one else how impossible it is, for +me, at any rate, to do much good. Last week he said to me, 'It's a fine +thing, religion, when you've got it at last, Mr. Gortre. When I look +back at my unregenerate years I wonder at myself. Religion tells me to +give up certain things. It only 'armonises with the experience of any +sensible man of my age. I don't want to drink too much, for instance. My +health is capital, and I'm not such a fool as to spoil it. To think that +all those years I never knew that religion was as easy as winking, and +with a certainty of everlasting glory afterwards. I'll always back you +up, Mr. Gortre, in saying that religion's the finest thing out.'" + +"Well, dear boy, you will be in another environment altogether soon. +It's no use being discouraged. _Tot homines, quot sententiæ_! We can't +alter these things. The Essenes used to speak disrespectfully enough of +'Ye men of Galilee,' no doubt. Sometimes I think I would rather have +these stubborn people than those of the South, men as easy and _commode_ +as an old glove, and worth about as much. Have you seen the _Guardian_ +to-day?" + +"No, I haven't. I've been at the schools all the morning, visiting in +Timperley Street till Evensong, home for a wash, and then here." + +"I see Schuabe is going to address a great meeting in the Free Trade +Hall on the Education Bill." + +"Then he is at Mount Prospect?" + +"He arrived from London yesterday." + +The two men looked at each other in silence. Mr. Byars seemed ill at +ease. His foot tapped the brass rail of the fender. Then, a sure sign of +disturbance with him, he put down his pipe, which was nearly smoked +away, and took a cigarette from a box on the table and smoked in short, +quick puffs. + +Gortre's face became dark and gloomy. The light died out of it, the +kindliness of expression, which was habitual, left his eyes. + +"We have never really told each other what we think of Schuabe and how +we think of him, vicar," he said. "Let us have it out here and now while +we are thinking of him and while we have the opportunity." + +"In a question of this sort," said Mr. Byars, "confidences are extremely +dangerous as a rule, but between you and me it is different. It will +clear our brains mutually. God forbid that you and I, in our profession +as Christ's priests and our socio-political position as clerks in Holy +Orders, should bear rancour against any one. But we are but human. +Possibly our mutual confidence may help us both." + +There was a curious eagerness in his manner which was reflected by that +of the other. Both were conscious of feelings ill in accord with their +usual open and kindly attitude towards the world. Each was anxious to +know if the other coincided with himself. + +Men are weak, and there is comfort in community. + +"From envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness--" said Gortre. + +"Good Lord deliver us," replied the vicar gravely. + +There was a tense silence for a time, only broken by the dropping of the +coals in the grate. The vicar was the first to break it. + +"I'll sum up my personal impression of the man for and against," he +said. + +Gortre nodded. + +"There can be no doubt whatever," said Mr. Byars, "that among all the +great North-country millionaires--men of power and influence, I +mean--Schuabe stands first and pre-eminent. His wealth is enormous to +begin with. Then he is young--can hardly be forty yet, I should say. He +belongs to the new generation. In Walktown he stands entirely alone. +Then his brilliancy, his tremendous intellectual powers, are equalled by +few men in England. His career at Oxford was marvellous, his political +life, only just beginning as it is, seems to promise the very highest +success. His private life, as far as we know--and everything about the +man seems to point to an ascetic temperament and a refined habit--is +without grossness or vice of any kind. In appearance he is one of the +ten most striking-looking men in England. His manners are fascinating." + +Gortre laughed shortly, a mirthless, bitter laugh. + +"So far," he said, "you have drawn a picture which approaches the ideal +of what a strong man should be. And I grant you every detail of it. But +let me complete it. You will agree with me that mine also is true." + +His voice trembled a little. Half unconsciously his eyes wandered to the +crucifix on the writing-table. In the red glow of the fire, which had +now ceased to crackle and flame, the drooping figure on the cross showed +distinct and clear in all its tremendous appeal to the hearts of +mankind. Tears came into the young man's eyes, his face became drawn and +pained. When he spoke, his voice was full of purpose and earnestness. + +"Yes," he said, with an unusual gesture of the hand, "Schuabe is all +that you say. In a hard, godless, and material age he is an epitome of +it. The curse of indifferentism is over the land. Men have forgotten +that this world is but an inn, a sojourning place for a few hours. O +fools and blind! The terror of death is always with them. But this man +is far more than this--far, far more. To him has been given the eye to +see, the heart to understand. _He, of all men living in England to-day, +is the mailed, armed enemy of Our Lord._ No loud-mouthed atheist, +sincere and blatant in his ignorance, no honest searcher after truth. +All his great wealth, all his attainments, are forged into one devilish +weapon. He is already, and will be in the future, the great enemy of +Christianity. Oh, I have read his book! 'Even now there are many +antichrists.' I have read his speeches in Parliament. I know his +enormous influence over those unhappy people who call themselves +'Secularists.' Like Diocletian, like Julian, _he hates Christ_. He is no +longer a Jew. Judaism is nothing to him--one can reverence a Montefiore, +admire an Adler. His attacks on the faith are something quite different +to those of other men. As his skill is greater, so his intention is more +evil. And yet how helpless are we who know! The mass of Christians--the +lax, tolerant Christians--think he is a kind of John Morley. They praise +his charities, his efforts for social amelioration. They quote, 'And God +fulfils Himself in many ways.' I say again, O fools and blind! They do +not know, they cannot see, this man as he is at heart, accursed and +antichrist!" His voice dropped, tired with its passion and vehemence. He +continued in a lower and more intimate vein: + +"Do you think I am a fanatic, vicar? Am I touched with monomania when I +tell you that of late I have thought much upon the prophetic indications +of the coming of 'the Man of Sin,' the antichrist in Holy Writ? Can it +be, I have asked myself, as I watch the comet-like brilliance of this +man's career, can it be that in my own lifetime and the lifetime of +those I love, the veritable enemy of our Saviour is to appear? Is this +man, this Jew, he of whom it is said in Jacob's words, 'Dan shall be a +serpent by the way, an adder in the path'--the tribe of which _not one_ +was sealed?" + +"You are overwrought, Basil," said the elder man kindly. "You have let +yourself dwell too much on this man and his influences. But I do not +condemn you. I also have had my doubts and wonderings. The outside world +would laugh at us and people who might be moved as we are at these +things. But do we not live always with, and by help of, the Unseen? God +alone knows the outcome of the trend of these antichristian influences, +of which, I fear, Schuabe is the head. The Fathers are clear enough on +the subject, and the learned men of mediæval times also. Let me read to +you." + +He got up from his arm-chair, glad, it seemed, at opportunity of change +and movement, and went to the book-shelves which lined the wall. His +scholar's interest was aroused, his magnificent reading and knowledge of +Christian history and beliefs engaged and active. + +He dipped into book after book, reading extracts from them here and +there. + +"Listen. Marchantius says the ship of the Church will sink and be lost +in the foam of infidelity, and be hidden in the blackness of that storm +of desolation which shall arise at the coming of Antichrist. 'The sun +shall be darkened and the stars shall fall from heaven.' He means, of +course, the sun of faith, and that the stars, the great ecclesiastical +dignitaries, shall fall into apostasy. But, he goes on to say, the +Church will remain unwrecked, she will weather the storm and come forth +'_beautiful as the moon, terrible as an army with banners_.'" + +His voice was eager and excited, his face was all alight with the +scholar's eagerness, as he took down book after book with unerring +instinct to illustrate his remarks. + +"Opinions as to the nature and personality of Antichrist have been very +varied," he continued. "Some of the very early Christian writers say he +will be a devil in a phantom body, others that he will be an incarnate +demon, true man and true devil, in fearful and diabolic parody of the +Incarnation of our Lord. There is a third view also. That is that he +will be merely a desperately wicked man, acting upon diabolic +inspirations, just as the saints act upon Divine inspirations. + +"Listen to St. John Damascene upon the subject. He is very express. 'Not +as Christ assumed humanity, so will the Devil become human; but the Man +will receive all the inspiration of Satan, and will suffer the Devil to +take up his abode within him.'" + +Gortre, who was listening with extreme attention, made a short, sharp +exclamation at this last quotation. + +He had risen from his seat and stood by the mantel-shelf, leaning his +elbow upon it. + +One of the ornaments of the mantel was a head of Christ, photographed on +china, from Murillo, and held in a large silver frame like a photograph +frame. + +Just as the vicar had finished reading there came a sudden knock at the +door. It startled Gortre, and he moved suddenly. His elbow slid along +the marble of the shelf and dislodged the picture, which fell upon the +floor and was broken into a hundred pieces, crashing loudly upon the +fender. + +The housemaid, who had knocked, stood for a moment looking with dismay +upon the breakage. Then she turned to the vicar. + +"Mr. Schuabe from Mount Prospect to see you, sir," she said. "I've shown +him into the drawing-room." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +"I THINK HE IS A GOOD MAN" + + +The servant had turned on the lights in the drawing room, where a low +fire still glowed red upon the hearth, and left Constantine Schuabe +alone to await the vicar's arrival. + +On either side of the fireplace were heavy hangings of emerald and +copper woven stuff, a present to Helena from an uncle, who had bought +them at Benares. Schuabe stood motionless before this background. + +The man was tall, above the middle height, and the heavy coat of fur +which he was wearing increased the impression of proportioned size, of +massiveness, which was part of his personality. His hair was a very dark +red, smooth and abundant, of that peculiar colour which is the last to +show the greyness of advancing age. His features were Semitic, but +without a trace of that fulness, and sometimes coarseness, which often +marks the Jew who has come to the middle period of life. The eyes were +large and black, but without animation, in ordinary use and wont. They +did not light up as he spoke, but yet the expression was not veiled or +obscured. They were coldly, terribly _aware_, with something of the +sinister and untroubled regard one sees in a reptile's eyes. + +The jaw, which dominated the face and completed its remarkable +_ensemble_, was very massive, reminding people of steel covered with +olive-coloured parchment. Handsome was hardly the word which fitted him. +He was a strikingly handsome man; but that, like "distinction," was +only one of the qualities which made up his personality. Force, +power--the relentless and conscious power suggested by some great marine +engine--surrounded him in an almost indescribable way. They were like +exhalations. Most people, with the casual view, called him merely +indomitable, but there were others who thought they read deeper and saw +something evil and monstrous about the man; powerless to give an exact +and definite reason for the impression, and dubious of voicing it. + +Nevertheless, now and again, two or three people would speak of him to +each other without reserve, and on such occasions they generally agreed +to this feeling of the sinister and malign, in much the same manner as +the vicar and his curate had been agreeing but half an hour before his +arrival at the house. + +The door opened with a quick click of the handle, and the vicar entered +with something of suddenness. One might almost have supposed that he had +lingered, hesitant, in the hall, and suddenly nerved himself for this +encounter. + +Mr. Byars advanced to take the hand of his visitor. Beside the big man +he seemed shrunken and a little ineffectual. He was slightly nervous in +his manner also, for Basil's impassioned and terror-ridden words still +rang in his ears and had their way with him. + +The coincidence of the millionaire's arrival was altogether too sudden +and _bizarre_. + +When they had made greetings, cordial enough on the surface, and were +seated on either side of the fire, Schuabe spoke at once upon the object +of his visit. + +"I have come, Mr. Byars," he said, in a singularly clear, vibrant voice, +"to discuss certain educational proposals with you. As you probably +know, just at present I am taking a very prominent part in the House of +Commons in connection with the whole problem of primary education. +Within the last few weeks I have been in active correspondence with your +School Board, and you will know all about the scholarships I have +founded. + +"But I am now coming to you to propose something of the same sort in +connection with your own Church schools. My opinions on religious +matters are, of course, not yours. But despite my position I have always +recognised that, with whatever means, both the clergy and my own party +are broadly working towards one end. + +"Walktown provides me with very many thousands a year, and it is my duty +in some way or another to help Walktown. My proposal is roughly this: I +will found and endow two yearly scholarships for two boys in the +national schools. The money will be sufficient, in the first instance, +to send them to one of the great Northern Grammar Schools, and +afterwards, always providing that the early promise is maintained, to +either university. + +"My only stipulation is this. The tests shall be purely and simply +intellectual, and have nothing whatever to do with the religious +teaching of the schools, with which I am not in sympathy. Nevertheless, +it is only fair that a clever boy in a Church school should have the +same opportunities as in a secular school. I should tell you that I have +made the same offer to the Roman Catholic school authorities and it has +been declined." + +The vicar listened with great attention. The offer was extremely +generous, and showed a most open-minded determination to put the donor's +personal prejudices out of the question. There could be no doubt as to +his answer--none whatever. + +"My dear sir," he said, "your generosity is very great. I see your point +about the examinations. Religion is to form no part of them exactly. But +by the time one of our boys submits himself for examination we should +naturally hope that he would already be so firmly fixed in Christian +principles that his after-career would have no influence upon his faith. +Holding the opinions that you do, your offer shows a great freedom from +any prejudice. I hope I am broad-minded enough to recognise that +philanthropy is a fine, lovely thing, despite the banner under which the +philanthropist may stand. I accept your generous offer in the spirit +that it is made. Of course, the scheme must be submitted to the managers +of the schools, of whom I am chief, but the matter practically lies with +me, and my lead will be followed." + +"I am only too glad," said the big man, with a sudden and transforming +smile, "to help on the cause of knowledge. All the details of the scheme +I will send you in a few days, and now I will detain you no longer." + +He rose to go. + +During their brief conversation the vicar had been conscious of many +emotions. He blamed himself for his narrowness and the somewhat +fantastic lengths to which his recent talk with Gortre had gone. The man +was an infidel, no doubt. His intellectual attacks upon Christian faith +were terribly damaging and subversive. Still, his love for his +fellow-men was sincere, it seemed. He attacked the faith, but not the +preachers of it. And--a half thought crossed his brain--he might have +been sent to him for some good purpose. St. Paul had not always borne +the name of Paul! + +These thoughts, but half formulated in his brain, had their immediate +effect in concrete action. + +"Won't you take off your coat, Mr. Schuabe," he said, "and smoke a cigar +with me in my study?" + +The other hesitated a moment, looked doubtful, and then assented. He +hung his coat up in the hall and went into the other room with the +vicar. + +During the conversation in the drawing-room Helena had come back from +the concert, and Basil, hearing her, had left the study and gone to her +own private sanctum for a last few minutes before saying good-night. + +Helena sat in a low chair by the fire sipping a bowl of soup which the +maid had brought up to her. She was a little tired by the concert, where +a local pianist had been playing a nocturne of Chopin's as if he wanted +to make it into soup, and the quiet of her own sitting-room, the +intimate comfort of it all, and the sense of happiness that Basil's +presence opposite gave her were in delightful contrast. + +"It was very stupid, dear," she said. "Mrs. Pryde was rather trying, +full of dull gossip about every one, and the music wasn't good. Mr. +Cuthbert played as if he was playing the organ in church. His touch is +utterly unfitted for anything except the War March from _Athalie_ with +the stops out. He knows nothing of the piano. I was in a front seat, and +I could see his knee feeling for the swell all the time. He played _the_ +sonata as if he was throwing the moonlight at one in great solid chunks. +I'm glad to be back. How nice it is to sit here with you, dearest!--and +how good this Bovril is!" she concluded with a little laugh of content +and happiness at this moment of acute physical and mental ease. + +He looked lovingly at her as she lay back in rest and the firelight +played over her white arms and pale gold hair. + +"It's wonderful to think," he said, with a little catch in his voice, +"it's wonderful to me, an ever-recurring wonder, to think that some day +you and I will always be together for all our life, here and afterwards. +What supreme, unutterable happiness God gives to His children! Do you +know, dear, sometimes as I read prayers or stand by the altar, I am +filled with a sort of rapture of thankfulness which is voiceless in its +intensity. Tennyson got nearer to expressing it than any one in that +beautiful _St. Agnes' Eve_ of his--a little gem which, with its +simplicity and fervour, is worth far more than Keats's poem with all its +literary art." + +"It is good to feel like that sometimes," she answered; "but it is well, +I think, not to get into the way of _inducing_ such feelings. The human +brain is such a sensitive thing that one can get into the way of +drugging it with emotion, as it were. I think I am tinged a little with +the North-country spirit. I always think of Newman's wonderful lines-- + + "'The thoughts control that o'er thee swell and throng; + They will condense within the soul and turn to purpose strong. + But he who lets his feelings run in soft luxurious flow, + Shrinks when hard service must be done, and faints at every blow.' + +"I only quote from memory. But you look tired, dear boy; you are rather +white. Have you been overworking?" + +He did not answer immediately. + +"No," he said slowly, "but I've been having a long talk with the vicar. +We were talking about Mr. Schuabe and his influence. Helena, that man is +the most active of God's enemies in England. Almost when I was +mentioning his name, by some coincidence, or perhaps for some deeper, +more mysterious, psychical reason which men do not yet understand, the +maid announced him. He had come to see your father on business, +and--don't think I am unduly fanciful--the Murillo photograph, the head +of Christ, on the mantel-shelf, fell down and was broken. He is here +still, I think." + +"Yes," said Helena; "Mr. Schuabe is in the study with father. But, Basil +dear, it's quite evident to me that you've been doing too much. Do you +know that I look upon Mr. Schuabe as a really _good_ man! I have often +thought about him, and even prayed that he may learn the truth; but God +has many instruments. Mr. Schuabe is sincere in his unbelief. His life +and all his actions are for the good of others. It is terrible--it is +deplorable--to know he attacks Christianity; but he is tolerant and +large-minded also. Yes, I should call him a good man. He will come to +God some day. God would not have given him such power over the minds and +bodies of men otherwise." + +Gortre smiled a little sadly,--a rather wan smile, which sat strangely +upon his strong and hearty face--, but he said no more. + +He knew that his attitude was illogical, perhaps it could be called +bigoted and intolerant--a harsh indictment in these easy, latitudinarian +days; but his conviction was an intuition. It came from within, from +something outside or beyond his reason, and would not be stifled. + +"Well, dear," he said, "perhaps it is as you say. Nerves which are +overwrought, and a system which is run down, certainly have their say, +and a large say, too, in one's attitude towards any one. Now you must go +to bed. I will go down and say good-night to the rector and Mr. +Schuabe--just to show there's no ill-feeling; though, goodness knows, I +oughtn't to jest about the man. Good-night, sweet one; God bless you. +Remember me also in your prayers to-night." + +She kissed him in her firm, brave way--a kiss so strong and loving, so +pure and sweet, that he went away from that little room of books and +_bric-à-brac_ as if he had been sojourning in some shrine. + +As Basil came into the study he found Mr. Byars and Schuabe in eager, +animated talk. A spirit decanter had been brought in during his +absence, and the vicar was taking the single glass of whisky-and-water +he allowed himself before going to bed. Basil, who was in a singularly +alert and observant mood, noticed that a glass of plain seltzer water +stood before the millionaire. + +Gortre's personal acquaintance with Schuabe was of the slightest. He had +met him once or twice on the platform of big meetings, and that was all. +A simple curate, unless socially,--and Schuabe did not enter into the +social life of Walktown, being almost always in London,--he would not be +very likely to come in the way of this mammoth. + +But Schuabe greeted him with marked cordiality, and he sat down to +listen to the two men. + +In two minutes he was fascinated, in five he realised, with a quick and +unpleasant sense of inferiority, how ignorant he was beside these two. +In Schuabe the vicar found a man whose knowledge was as wide and +scholarship as profound as his own. + +From a purely intellectual standpoint, probably Gortre and Schuabe were +more nearly on a level, but in pure knowledge he was nowhere. He +wondered, as he listened, if the generation immediately preceding his +own had been blessed with more time for culture, if the foundation had +been surer and more comprehensive, when they were _alumni_ of the +"loving mother" in the South. + +They were discussing archæological questions connected with the Holy +Land. + +Schuabe possessed a profound and masterly knowledge of the whole Jewish +background to the Gospel picture, not merely of the archæology, which in +itself is a life study, but of the essential characteristics of Jewish +thought and feeling, which is far more. + +Of course, every now and again the conversation turned towards a +direction that, pursued, would have led to controversy. But, with mutual +tact, the debatable ground was avoided. That Christ was a historic fact +Schuabe, of course, admitted and implied, and when the question of His +Divinity seemed likely to occur he was careful and adroit to avoid any +discussion. + +To the young man, burning with the zeal of youth, this seemed a pity. +Unconsciously, he blamed the vicar for not pressing certain points home. + +What an opportunity was here! The rarity of such a visit, the obvious +interest the two men were beginning to take in each other--should not a +great blow for Christ be struck on such an auspicious night? Even if the +protest was unavailing, the argument overthrown, was it not a duty to +speak of the awful and eternal realities which lay beneath this vivid +and brilliant interchange of scholarship? + +His brain was on fire with passionate longing to speak. But, +nevertheless, he controlled it. None knew better than he the depth and +worth of the vicar's character. And he felt himself a junior; he had no +right to question the decision of his superior. + +"You have missed much, Mr. Byars," said Schuabe, as he arose to go at +last, "in never having visited Jerusalem. One can get the knowledge of +it, but never the colour. And, even to-day, the city must appear, in +many respects, exactly as it did under the rule of Pilate. The Fellah +women sell their vegetables, the camels come in loaded with roots for +fuel, the Bedouin, the Jews with their long gowns and slippers--I wish +you could see it all. I have eaten the meals of the Gospels, drunk the +red wine of Saron, the spiced wine mixed with honey and black pepper, +the 'wine of myrrh' mentioned in the Gospel of Mark. I have dined with +Jewish tradesmen and gone through the same formalities of hand-washing +as we read of two thousand years ago; I have seen the poor +ostentatiously gathered in out of the streets and the best part of the +meal given them for a self-righteous show. And yet, an hour afterwards, +I have sat in a _café_ by King David's Tower and played dice with +Turkish soldiers armed with Martini rifles!" + +The vicar seemed loath to let his guest go, though the hour was late, +but he refused to stay longer. Mr. Byars, with a somewhat transparent +eagerness, mentioned that Gortre's road home lay for part of the way in +the same direction as the millionaire's. He seemed to wish the young man +to accompany him, almost, so Basil thought, that the charm of his +personality might rebuke him for his tirade in the early part of the +evening. + +Accordingly, in agreement with the vicar's evident wish, but with an +inexplicable ice-cold feeling in his heart, he left the house with +Schuabe and began to walk with him through the silent, lamp-lit +streets. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE SMOKE CLOUD AT DAWN + + +The two men strode along without speaking for some way. Their feet +echoed in the empty streets. + +Suddenly Schuabe turned to Basil. "Well, Mr. Gortre," he said, "I have +given you your opportunity. Are you not going to speak the word in +season after all?" + +The young man started violently. Who was this man who had been reading +his inner thoughts? How could his companion have fathomed his sternly +repressed desire as he sat in the vicarage study? And why did he speak +now, when he knew that some chilling influence had him in its grip, that +his tongue was tied, his power weakened? + +"It is late, Mr. Schuabe," he said at length, and very gravely. "My +brain is tired and my enthusiasm chilled. Nor are you anxious to hear +what I have to say. But your taunt is ungenerous. It almost seems as if +you are not always so tolerant as men think!" + +The other laughed--a cold laugh, but not an unkindly one. "Forgive me," +he said, "one should not jest with conviction. But I should like to talk +with you also. There are lusts of the brain just as there are lusts of +the flesh, and to-night I am in the mood and humour for conversation." + +They were approaching a side road which led to Gortre's rooms. +Schuabe's great stone house was still a quarter of a mile away up the +hill. + +"Do not go home yet," said Schuabe, "come to my house, see my books, and +let us talk. Make friends with the mammon of unrighteousness, Mr. +Gortre! You are disturbed and unstrung to-night. You will not sleep. +Come with me." + +Gortre hesitated for a moment, and then continued with him. He was +hardly conscious why he did so, but even as he accepted the invitation +his nerves seemed recovered as by some powerful tonic. A strange +confidence possessed him, and he strode on with the air and manner of a +man who has some fixed purpose in his brain. + +And as he talked casually with Schuabe, he felt towards him no longer +the cold fear, the inexplicable shrinking. He regarded him rather as a +vast and powerful enemy, an evil, sinister influence, indeed, but one +against which he was armed with an armour not his own, with weapons +forged by great and terrible hands. + +So they entered the drive and walked up among the gaunt black trees +towards the house. + +Mount Prospect was a large, castellated modern building of stone. In a +neighbourhood where architectural monstrosities abounded, perhaps it +outdid them all in its almost brutal ugliness and vulgarity. It had been +built by Constantine Schuabe's grandfather. + +The present owner was little at Walktown. His Parliamentary and social +duties bound him to London, and when he had time for recreation the +newspapers announced that he had "gone abroad," and until he was +actually seen again in the midst of his friends his disappearances were +mysterious and complete. + +In London he had a private set of rooms at one of the great hotels. + +But despite his rare visits, the hideous stone palace in the smoky North +held all the treasures which he himself had collected and which had been +left to him by his father. + +It was understood that at his death the pictures and library were to +become the property of the citizens of Manchester, held in trust for +them by the corporation. + +Schuabe took a key from his pocket and opened the heavy door in the +porch. + +"I always keep the house full of servants," he said, "even when I am +away, for a dismantled house and caretakers are horrible. But they will +be all gone to bed now, and we must look after ourselves." + +Opening an inner door, they passed through some heavy padded curtains, +which fell behind them with a dull thud, and came out into the great +hall. + +Ugly as the shell of the great building was, the interior was very +different. + +Here, set like a jewel in the midst of the harsh, forbidding country, +was a treasure-house of ordered beauty which had few equals in England. + +Gortre drew a long, shuddering breath of pleasure as he looked round. +Every æsthetic influence within him responded to what he saw. And how +simple and severe it all was! Simply a great domed hall of white marble, +brilliantly lit by electric light hidden high above their heads. On +every side slender columns rose towards the dome, beyond them were tall +archways leading to the rooms of the house; dull, formless curtains, +striking no note of colour, hung from the archways. + +In the centre of the vast space, exactly under the dome, was a large +pool of still green water, a square basin with abrupt edges, having no +fountain nor gaudy fish to break its smoothness. + +And that was all, literally all. No rugs covered the tesselated floor, +not a single seat stood anywhere. There was not the slightest suggestion +of furniture or habitation. White, silent, and beautiful! As Gortre +stood there, he knew, as if some special message had been given him, +that he had come for some great hidden purpose, that it had been +foreordained. His whole soul seemed filled with a holy power, unseen +powers and principalities thronged round him like sweet but awful +friends. + +He turned inquiringly towards his host. Schuabe's face was very pale; +the calm, cruel eyes seemed agitated; he was staring at the priest. +"Come," he said in a voice which seemed to be without its usual +confidence; "come, this place is cold--I have sometimes thought it a +little too bare and fantastic--come into the library; let us eat and +talk." + +He turned and passed through the pillars on the right. Gortre followed +him through the dark, heavy curtains which led to the library. + +They found themselves in an immense low-ceilinged room. The floor was +covered with a thick carpet of dull blue, and their feet made no sound +as they passed over it towards the blazing fire, which glowed in an old +oak framework of panelling and ingle-nook brought from an ancient +manor-house in Norfolk. + +At one end of the room was a small organ, cased, modern as the mechanism +was, in priceless Renaissance painted panels from Florence and set in a +little octagonal alcove hung with white and yellow. + +The enormous writing-table of dark wood stood in front of the fireplace +and was covered with books and papers. By it was a smaller circular +table laid with a white cloth and shining glass and silver for a meal. + +"My valet is in bed," said Schuabe; "I hate any one about me at night, +and I prefer to wait on myself then. 'From the cool cisterns of the +midnight air my spirit drinks repose.' If you will wait here a few +moments I will go and get some food. I know where to find some. Pray +amuse yourself by looking at my books." + +He left the room noiselessly, and Basil turned towards the walls. From +ceiling to floor the immense room was lined with shelves of enamelled +white wood, here and there carved with tiny florid bunches of fruit and +flowers--Jacobean work it seemed. + +A few pictures here and there in spaces between the shelves--the hectic +flummery of a Whistler nocturne; a woman _avec cerises_, by Manet; a +green silk fan, painted with _fêtes gallantes_, by Conder--alone broke +the many-coloured monotony of the books. + +Gortre had, from his earliest Oxford days, been a lover of books and a +collector in a moderate, discriminating way. As a rule he was roused to +a mild enthusiasm by a fine library. But as his practised eye ran over +the shelves, noting the beauty and variety of the contents, he was +unmoved by any special interest. His brain, still, so it seemed, under +some outside and compelling instinct or influence, was singularly +detached from ordinary interests and rejected the books' appeal. + +Close to where he stood the shelves were covered with theological works. +Müller's _Lectures on the Vedanta Philosophy_, Romane's _Reply to Dr. +Lightfoot_, De la Saussaye's _Manual_, stood together. His hand had been +wandering unconsciously over the books when it was suddenly arrested, +and stopped on a familiar black binding with plain gold letters. It was +an ordinary reference edition of the Holy Bible, the "pearl" edition +from the Oxford University Press. + +There was something familiar and homely in the little dark volume, which +showed signs of constant use. A few feet away was a long shelf of Bibles +of all kinds, rare editions, expensive copies bound up with famous +commentaries--all the luxuries and _éditions de luxe_ of Holy Writ. But +the book beneath his fingers was the same size and shape as the one +which stood near his own bedside in his rooms--the one which his father +had given him when he went to Harrow, with "Flee youthful lusts" written +on the fly-leaf in faded ink. It was homelike and familiar. + +He drew it out with a half smile at himself for choosing the one book he +knew by heart from this new wealth of literature. + +Then a swift impulse came to him. + +Gortre could not be called a superstitious man. The really religious +temperament, which, while not rejecting the aids of surface and symbol, +has seen far below them, rarely is "superstitious" as the word has come +to be understood. + +The familiar touch, the pleasant sensation of the limp, rough leather on +his finger-balls gave him a feeling of security. But that very fact +seemed to remind him that some danger, some subtle mental danger, was +near. Was this Bible sent to him? he wondered. Were his eyes and hands +_directed_ to it by the vibrating, invisible presences which he felt +were near him? Who could say? + +But he took the book in his right hand, breathed a prayer for help and +guidance--if it might so be that God, who watched him, would speak a +message of help--and opened it at random. + +He was about to make a trial of that old mediæval practice of +"searching"--that harmless trial of faith which a modern hard-headed +cleric has analysed so cleverly, so completely, and so entirely +unsatisfactorily. + +He opened the book, with his eyes fixed in front of him, and then let +them drop towards it. For a moment the small type was all blurred and +indistinct, and then one text seemed to leap out at him. + +It was this-- + + "TAKE YE HEED, WATCH AND PRAY: FOR YE KNOW NOT WHEN THE TIME IS." + +This, then, was his message! He was to _watch_, to pray, for the time +was at hand when-- + +The curtain slid aside, and Schuabe entered with a tray. He had changed +his morning coat for a long dressing-gown of camel's-hair, and wore +scarlet leather slippers. + +Basil slipped the Bible back into its place and turned to face him. + +"I live very simply," he said, "and can offer you nothing very +elaborate. But here is some cold chicken, a watercress salad, and a +bottle of claret." + +They sat down on opposite sides of the round table and said little. Both +men were tired and hungry. After he had eaten, the clergyman bent his +head for a second or two in an inaudible grace, and made the sign of the +Cross before he rose from his chair. + +"Symbol!" said Schuabe, with a cold smile, as he saw him. + +The truce was over. + +"What is that Cross to which all Christians bow?" he continued. "It was +the symbol of the water-god of the Gauls, a mere piece of their +iconography. The Phoenician ruin of Gigantica is built in the shape of a +cross; the Druids used it in their ceremonies; it was Thor's hammer long +before it became Christ's gibbet; it is used by the pagan Icelanders to +this day as a magic sign in connection with storms of wind. Why, the +symbol of Buddha on the reverse of a coin found at Ugain is the same +cross, the 'fylfot' of Thor. The cross was carved by Brahmins a thousand +years before Christ in the caves of Elephanta. I have seen it in India +with my own eyes in the hands of Siva Brahma and Vishnu! The worshipper +of Vishnu attributes as many virtues to it as the pious Roman Catholic +here in Salford to the Christian Cross. There is the very strongest +evidence that the origin of the cross is phallic! The _crux ansata_ was +the sign of Venus: it appears beside Baal and Astarte!" + +"Very possibly, Mr. Schuabe," said Gortre, quietly. "Your knowledge on +such points is far wider than mine; but that does not affect +Christianity in the slightest." + +"Of course not! Who ever said it did? But this reverence for the cross, +the instrument of execution on which an excellent teacher, and, as far +as we know, a really good man, suffered, angers me because it reminds me +of the absurd and unreasoning superstitions which cloud the minds of so +many educated men like yourself." + +"Ah," said Gortre, quietly, "now we are 'gripped.' We have come to the +point." + +"If you choose, Mr. Gortre," Schuabe answered; "you are an intellectual +man, and one intellectual man has a certain right to challenge another. +I was staying with Lord Haileybury the other day, and I spent two whole +mornings walking over the country with the Bishop of London, talking on +these subjects. He very ably endeavoured to bring physical and +psychological science into a single whole. But all he seemed to me to +prove was this, crystallised into an axiom or at least a postulate. +_Conscious volition is the ultimate source of all force._ It is his +belief that behind the sensuous and phenomenal world which gives it +form, existence, and activity, lies the ultimate invisible, immeasurable +power of Mind, conscious Will, of Intelligence, analogous to our own; +and--mark this essential corollary--_that man is in communication with +it_, and that was positively all he could do for me! I met him there +easily enough, but when he tried to prove a _revelation_--Christianity +--he utterly broke down. We parted very good friends, and I gave him a +thousand pounds for the East London poor fund. But still, say what you +will to me. I am here to listen." + +He looked calmly at the young man with his unsmiling eyes. He held a +Russian cigarette in his fingers, and he waved it with a gentle gesture +of invitation as if from an immeasurable superiority. + +And as Gortre watched him he knew that here was a brain and intelligence +far keener and finer than his own. But with all that certainty he felt +entirely undismayed, strangely uplifted. + +"I have a message for you, Mr. Schuabe," he began, and the other bowed +slightly, without irony, at his words. "I have a message for you, one +which I have been sent here--I firmly believe--to deliver, but it is not +the message or the argument that you expect to hear." + +He stopped for a short time, marshalling his mental forces, and noticing +a slight but perceptible look of surprise in his host's eyes. + +"I know you better than you imagine, sir," he said gravely, "and not as +many other good and devout Christians see you. I tell you here to-night +with absolute certainty that you are the active enemy of Christ--I say +_active_ enemy." + +The face opposite became slightly less tranquil, but the voice was as +calm as ever. + +"You speak according to your lights, Mr. Gortre," he said. "I am no +Christian, but there is much good in Christianity. My words and writings +may have helped to lift the veil of superstition and hereditary +influences from the eyes of many men, and in that sense I am an enemy of +the Christian faith, I suppose. My sincerity is my only apology--if one +were needed. You speak with more harshness and less tolerance than I +should have thought it your pleasure or your duty to use." + +Gortre rose. "Man," he cried, with sudden sternness, "I _know! You hate +our Lord_, and would work Him evil. You are as Judas was, for to-night +it is given me to read far into your brain." + +Schuabe rose quickly from his chair and stood facing him. His face was +pallid, something looked out of his eyes which almost frightened the +other. + +"What do you know?" he cried as if in a swift stroke of pain. "Who--?" +He stopped as if by a tremendous effort. + +Some thought came to reassure him. + +"Listen," he said. "I tell you, paid priest as you are, a blind man +leading the blind, that a day is coming when all your boasted fabric of +Christianity will disappear. It will go suddenly, and be swept utterly +away. And you, you shall see it. You shall be left naked of your faith, +stripped and bare, with all Christendom beside you. Your pale Nazarene +shall die amid the bitter laughter of the world, die as surely as He +died two thousand years ago, and no man or woman shall resurrect Him. +You know nothing, but you will remember my words of to-night, until you +also become as nothing and endure the inevitable fate of mankind." + +He had spoken with extraordinary vehemence, hissing the words out with a +venom and malice, general rather than particular, from which the +Churchman shrunk, shuddering. There was such unutterable _conviction_ in +the thin, evil voice that for a moment the pain of it was like a spasm +of physical agony. + +Schuabe had thrown down the mask; it was even as Gortre said, the soul +of Iscariot looked out from those eyes. The man saw the clergyman's +sudden shrinking. + +The smile of a devil flashed over his face. Gortre had turned to him +once more and he saw it. And as he watched an awful certainty grew +within him, a thought so appalling that beside it all that had gone +before sank into utter insignificance. + +He staggered for a moment and then rose to his full height, a fearful +loathing in his eyes, a scorn like a whip of fire in his voice. + +Schuabe blanched before him, for he saw the truth in the priest's soul. + +"As the Lord of Hosts is my witness," cried Gortre loudly, "I know you +now for what you are! YOU KNOW THAT CHRIST IS GOD!" + +Schuabe shrank into his chair. + +"ANTICHRIST!" pealed out the accusing voice. "You know the truth full +well, and, knowing, in an awful presumption you have dared to lift your +hand against God." + +Then there was a dead silence in the room. Schuabe sat motionless by the +dying fire. + +Very slowly the colour crept back into his cheeks. Slowly the strength +and light entered his eyes. He moved slightly. + +At last he spoke. + +"Go," he said. "Go, and never let me see your face again. You have +spoken. Yet I tell you still that such a blinding blow shall descend on +Christendom that----" + +He rose quickly from his chair. His manner changed utterly with a +marvellous swiftness. + +He went to the window and pulled aside the curtain. A chill and ghostly +dawn came creeping into the library. + +"Let us make an end of this," he said quietly and naturally. "Of what +use for you and me, atoms that we are, to wrangle and thunder through +the night over an infinity in which we have neither part nor lot? Come, +get you homewards and rest, as I am about to do. The night has been an +unpleasant dream. Treat it as such. We differ on great matters. Let that +be so and we will forget it. You shall have a friend in me if you will." + +Gortre, hardly conscious of any voluntary movements, his brain in a +stupor, the arteries all over his body beating like little drums, took +the hat and coat the other handed to him, and stumbled out of the house. + +It was about five o'clock in the morning, raw, damp, and cold. + +With a white face, drawn and haggard with emotion, he strode down the +hill. The keen air revived his physical powers, but his brain was +whirling, whirling, till connected thought was impossible. + +What was it? What was the truth about that nightmare, that long, horrid +night in the warm, rich room? His powers were failing; he must see a +doctor after breakfast. + +When he reached the foot of the hill, and was about to turn down the +road which led to his rooms, he stopped to rest for a moment. + +From far behind the hill, over the dark, silhouetted houses of the +wealthy people who lived upon it, a huge, formless pall of purple smoke +was rising, and almost blotting out the dawn in a Titanic curtain of +gloom. The feeble new-born sun flickered redly through it, the colour of +blood. There was no wind that morning, and the fog and smoke from the +newly lit factory chimneys in the Irwell valley could not be dispersed. +It crept over the town like doom itself--menacing, vast, unconquerable. + +He pulled out his latch-key with trembling hand, and turned to enter his +own door. + +The cloud was spreading. + +"Lighten our darkness," he whispered to himself, half consciously, and +then fell fainting on the door-step, where they found him soon, and +carried him in to the sick-bed, where he lay sick of a brain-fever a +month or more. + +_Lighten our darkness!_ + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A LOST SOUL + + +In his great room at the British Museum, great, that is, for the private +room of an official, Robert Llwellyn sat at his writing-desk finishing +the last few lines of his article on the Hebrew inscription in mosaic, +which had been discovered at Kefr Kenna. + +It was about four in the afternoon, growing dark with the peculiarly +sordid and hopeless twilight of a winter's afternoon in central London. +A reading lamp upon the desk threw a bright circle of light on the sheet +of white unlined paper covered with minute writing, which lay before the +keeper of Biblical antiquities in the British Museum. + +The view from the tall windows was hideous and almost sinister in its +ugliness. Nothing met the eye but the gloomy backs of some of the great +dingy lodging-houses which surround the Museum, bedroom windows, back +bedrooms with dingy curtains, vulgarly unlovely. + +The room itself was official looking, but far from uncomfortable. There +were many book-shelves lining the walls. Over them hung large-framed +photographs and drawings of inscriptions. On a stand by itself, covered +with a glass shade, was a duplicate of Dr. Schick's model of the Haram +Area during the Christian occupation of Jerusalem. + +A dull fire glowed in the large open fireplace. + +Llwellyn wrote a final line with a sigh of relief and then leaned far +back in his swivel chair. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were dull +with some inward communing, apparently of a disturbing and unpleasant +kind. + +The door opened noiselessly (all the dwellers in the mysterious private +parts of the Museum walk without noise, and seem to have caught in their +voices something of that almost religious reverence emanating from +surroundings out of the immemorial past), and Lambert, the assistant +keeper and secretary, entered. + +He drew up a chair to the writing-desk. + +"The firman has been granted!" he said. + +A quick interest shone on Professor Llwellyn's face. + +"Ah!" he said, "it has come at last, then, after all these months of +waiting. I began to despair of the Turkish Government. I never thought +it would be granted. Then the Society will really begin to excavate at +last in the prohibited spots! Really that is splendid news, Lambert. We +shall have some startling results. Results, mind you, which will be +historical, historical! I doubt but that the whole theory of the Gospel +narrative will have to be reconstructed during the next few years!" + +"It is quite possible," said Lambert. "But, on the other hand, it may +happen that nothing whatever is found." + +Llwellyn nodded. Then a sudden thought seemed to strike him. "But how do +you know of this, Lambert?" he said, "and how has it happened?" + +Lambert was a pleasant, open-faced fellow, young, and with a certain air +of distinction. He laughed gaily, and returned his chief's look of +interest with an affectionate expression in his eyes. + +"Ah!" he said, "I have heard a great deal, sir, and I have some thing to +tell you which I am very happy about. It is gratifying to bring you the +first news. Last night I was dining with my uncle, Sir Michael +Manichoe, you know. The Home Secretary was there, a great friend of my +uncle's. You know the great interest he takes in the work of the +Exploration Society, and his general interest in the Holy Land?" + +"Oh, of course," said Llwellyn. "He's the leader of the uncompromising +Protestant party in the House; owes his position to it, in fact. He +breakfasts with the Septuagint, lunches off the Gospels, and sups with +Revelations. Well?" + +"It is owing to his personal interest in the work," continued Lambert, +"that the Sultan has granted the firman. After dinner he took me aside, +and we had a longish talk. He was very gracious, and most eager to hear +of all our recent work here, and additions to the collections in our +department. I was extremely pleased, as you may imagine. He spoke of +you, sir, as the greatest living authority--wouldn't hear of Conrad +Schick or Clermont-Ganneau in the same breath with you. He went on to +say in confidence, and he hinted to me that I had his permission to tell +you, though he didn't say as much in so many words, that they are going +to offer you knighthood in a few days!" + +A sudden flush suffused the face of the elder man. Then he laughed a +little. + +"Your news is certainly unexpected, my dear boy," he said, "and, for my +part, knighthood is no very welcome thing personally. But it would be +idle to deny that I'm pleased. It means recognition of my work, you see. +In that way only, it is good news that you have brought." + +"That's just it, Professor," the young man answered enthusiastically. +"That's exactly it. Sir Robert Llwellyn, or Mr. Llwellyn, of course, +cannot matter to you personally. But it _is_ a fitting and graceful +recognition of the _work_. It is a proper thing that the greatest +living authority on the antiquities and history of Asia Minor should be +officially recognised. It encourages all of us, you see, Professor." + +The young man's generous excitement pleased Llwellyn. He placed his hand +upon his shoulder with a kindly, affectionate gesture. + +At that moment a messenger knocked and entered with a bundle of letters, +which had just arrived by the half-past-four post, and, with a +congratulatory shake of the hand, Lambert left his chief to his +correspondence. + +The great specialist, when he had left the room, rose from his chair, +went towards the door with swift, cat-like steps, and locked it. Then he +returned to the desk, opened a deep drawer with a key which he drew from +his watch-pocket, and took a silver-mounted flask of brandy from the +receptacle. He poured a small dose of brandy into the metal cup and +drank it hurriedly. + +Then he leaned back once more in his chair. + +Professor Llwellyn's face was familiar to all readers of the illustrated +press. He was one of the few famous _savants_ whose name was a household +word not only to his colleagues and the learned generally, but also to +the great mass of the general public. + +In every department of effort and work there are one or two men whose +personality seems to catch the popular eye. + +His large, clean-shaven face might have belonged to a popular comedian; +his portly figure had still nothing of old age about it. He was +sprightly and youthful in manner despite his fat. The small, merry, +green eyes--eyes which had yet something furtive and "alarmed" in them +at times--stood for a concrete personification of good humour. His +somewhat sensual lips were always smiling and jolly on public occasions. +His enormous erudition and acknowledged place among the learned of +Europe went so strangely with his appearance that the world was pleased +and tickled by the paradox. + +It was a fine thing to think that the spectacled Dry-as-dust was gone. +That era of animated mummy was over, and when The World read of +Professor Llwellyn at a first night of the Lyceum, or the guest of +honour at the Savage Club, it forgot to jeer at his abstruse erudition. + +Scholars admitted his scholarship, and ordinary men and women welcomed +him as _homme du monde_. + +The Professor replaced the flask in the drawer and locked it. His hand +trembled as he did so. The light which shone on the white face showed it +eloquent with dread and despair. Here, in the privacy of the huge, +comfortable room, was a soul in an anguish that no mortal eyes could +see. + +The Professor had locked the door. + +The letters which the messenger had brought were many in number and +various in shape and style. + +Five or six of them, which bore foreign stamps and indications that they +came from the Continental antiquarian societies, he put on one side to +be opened and replied to on the morrow. + +Then he took up an envelope addressed to him in firm black writing and +turned it over. On the flap was the white, embossed oval and crown, +which showed that it came from the House of Commons. His florid face +became paler than before, the flesh of it turned grey, an unpleasant +sight in so large and ample a countenance, as he tore it open. The +letter ran as follows: + + "HOUSE OF COMMONS. + + "DEAR LLWELLYN,--I am writing to you now to say that I am quite + determined that the present situation shall not continue. You must + understand, finally, that my patience is exhausted, and that, + unless the large sum you owe me is repaid within the next week, my + solicitors have my instructions, which are quite unalterable, to + proceed in bankruptcy against you without further delay. + + "The principal and interest now total to the sum of fourteen + thousand pounds. Your promises to repay, and your innumerable + requests for more time in which to do so, now extend over a period + of three years. I have preserved all your letters on the subject at + issue between us, and I find that, so far from decreasing your + indebtedness when your promises became due, you have almost + invariably asked me for further sums, which, in foolish confidence, + as I feel now, I have advanced to you. + + "It would be superfluous to point out to you what bankruptcy would + mean to you in your position. Ruin would be the only word. And it + would be no ordinary bankruptcy. I have a by no means uncertain + idea where these large sums have gone, and my knowledge can hardly + fail to be shared by others in London society. + + "I have still a chance to offer you, however, and, perhaps, you + will find me by no means the tyrant you think. + + "There are certain services which you can do me, and which, if you + fall in with my views, will not only wipe off the few thousands of + your indebtedness, but provide you with a capital sum which will + place you above the necessity for any such financial manoeuvres in + the future as your--shall I say _infatuation_?--has led you to + resort to in the past. + + "If you care to lunch with me at my rooms in the Hotel Cecil, at + two o'clock, the day after to-morrow--Friday--we may discuss your + affairs quietly. If not, then I must refer you to my solicitors + entirely. + + "Yours sincerely, + "CONSTANTINE SCHUABE." + +The big man gave a horrid groan--half snarl, half groan--the sound +which comes from a strong animal desperate and at bay. + +He crossed over to the fireplace and pushed the letter down into a +glowing cavern among the coals, holding it there with the poker until it +was utterly consumed and fluttered up the chimney from his sight in a +sheet of ash--the very colour of his relaxed and pendulous cheeks. + +He opened another letter, a small, fragile thing written on mauve paper, +in a large, irregular hand--a woman's hand:-- + + + "15 BLOOMSBURY COURT MANSIONS. + + "DEAR BOB--I shall expect you at the flat to-night at eleven, + _without fail_. You'd better come, or things which you won't like + will happen. + + "You've just _got_ to come.--Yours, GERTRUDE." + +He put this letter into his pocket and began to walk the room in long, +silent strides. + +A little after five he put on a heavy fur coat and left the now silent +and gloomy halls of the Museum. + +The lamps of Holborn were lit and a blaze of light came from Oxford +Circus, where the winking electric advertisements had just begun their +work on the tops of the houses. + +A policeman saluted the Professor as he passed, and was rewarded by a +genial smile and jolly word of greeting, which sent a glow of pleasure +through his six feet. + +Llwellyn walked steadily on towards the Marble Arch and Edgeware Road. +The continual roar of the traffic helped his brain. It became active and +able to think, to plan once more. The steady exercise warmed his blood +and exhilarated him. + +There began to be almost a horrid pleasure in the stress of his +position. The danger was so immediate and fell; the blow would be so +utterly irreparable, that he was near to enjoying his walk while he +could still consider the thing from a detached point of view. + +Throughout life that had always been his power. A strange resilience had +animated him in all chances and changes of fortune. + +He was that almost inhuman phenomenon, a sensualist with a soul. + +For many years, while his name became great in Europe and the solid +brilliancy of his work grew in lustre as he in age, he had lived two +lives, finding an engrossing joy in each. + +The lofty scientific world of which he was an ornament had no points of +contact with that other and unspeakable half-life. Rumours had been +bruited, things said in secret by envious and less distinguished men, +but they had never harmed him. His colleagues hardly understood them and +cared nothing. His work was all-sufficient; what did it matter if +smaller people with forked tongues hissed horrors of his private life? + +The other circles--the lost slaves of pleasure--knew him well and were +content. He came into the night-world a welcome guest. They knew nothing +of his work or fame beyond dim hintings of things too uninteresting for +them to bother about. + +He turned down the Edgeware Road and then into quiet Upper Berkeley +Street, a big, florid, prosperous-looking man, looking as though the +world used him well and he was content with all it had to offer. + +His house was but a few doors down the street and he went up-stairs to +dress at once. He intended to dine at home that night. + +His dressing-room, out of which a small bedroom opened, was large and +luxurious. A clear fire glowed upon the hearth; the carpet was soft and +thick. The great dressing-table with its three-sided mirror was covered +with brushes and ivory jars, gleaming brightly in the rays of the little +electric lights which framed the mirror. A huge wardrobe, full of +clothes neatly folded and put away, suggested a man about town, a dandy +with many sartorial interests. An arm-chair of soft green leather, +stamped with red-gold pomegranates, stood by a small black table +stencilled with orange-coloured bees. On the table stood a cigarette-box +of finely plaited cream-coloured straw, woven over silver and +cedar-wood, and with Llwellyn's initials in turquoise on one lid. + +He threw off his coat and sank into the chair with a sigh of pleasure at +the embracing comfort of it. Then his fingers plunged into the tea which +filled the box on the table and drew out a tiny yellow cigarette. + +He smoked in luxurious silence. + +He had already half forgotten the menacing letter from Constantine +Schuabe, the imperative summons to the flat in Bloomsbury Court +Mansions. This was a moment of intense physical ease. The flavour of his +saffron Salonika cigarette, a tiny glass of garnet-coloured _cassis_ +which he had poured out, were alike excellent. All day long he had been +at work on a brilliant monograph dealing with the new Hebrew mosaics. +Only two other living men could have written it. But his work also had +fallen out of his brain. At that moment he was no more than a great +animal, soulless, with the lusts of the flesh pouring round him, +whispering evil and stinging his blood. + +A timid knock fell upon the door outside. It opened and Mrs. Llwellyn +came slowly in. + +The Professor's wife was a tall, thin woman. Her untidy clothes hung +round her body in unlovely folds. Her complexion was muddy and +unwholesome; but the unsmiling, withered lips revealed a row of fair, +white, even teeth. It was in her eyes that one read the secret of this +lady. They were large and blue, once beautiful, so one might have +fancied. Now the light had faded from them and they were blurred and +full of pain. + +She came slowly up to her husband's chair, placing one hand timidly upon +it. + +"Oh, is that you?" he said, not brutally, but with a complete and utter +indifference. "I shall want some dinner at home to-night. I shall be +going out about ten to a supper engagement. See about it now, something +light. And tell one of the maids to bring up some hot water." + +"Yes, Robert," she said, and went out with no further word, but sighing +a little as she closed the door quietly. + +They had been married fifteen years. For fourteen of them he had hardly +ever spoken to her except in anger at some household accident. On her +own private income of six hundred a year she had to do what she could to +keep the house going. Llwellyn never gave her anything of the thousand a +year which was his salary at the Museum, and the greater sums he earned +by his work outside it. She knew no one, the Professor went into none +but official society, and indeed but few of his colleagues knew that he +was a married man. He treated the house as a hotel, sleeping there +occasionally, breakfasting, and dressing. His private rooms were the +only habitable parts of the house. All the rest was old, faded, and +without comfort. Mrs. Llwellyn spent most of her life with the two +servants in the kitchen. + +She always swept and tidied her husband's rooms herself. That afternoon +she had built and coaxed the fire with her own hands. + +She slept in a small room at the top of the house, next to the maids, +for company. + +This was her life. + +Over the head of the little iron bedstead of her room hung a great +crucifix. + +That was her hope. + +When Llwellyn was rioting in nameless places she prayed for him during +the night. She prayed for him, for herself, and for the two servant +girls, very simply--that Heaven might receive them all some day. + +The maid brought up some dinner for the Professor--a little soup, a +sole, and some _camembert_. + +He ate slowly, and smoked a short light-brown cigar with his coffee. +Then he bathed, put on evening clothes, dressing himself with care and +circumspection, and left the house. + +In the Edgeware Road he got into a hansom and told the man to drive him +to Bloomsbury Court Mansions. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE WHISPER + + +Robert Llwellyn paid the cabman outside the main gateway which led into +the courtyard, and dismissed him. + +The Court Mansions were but a few hundred yards from the British Museum +itself, though he never visited them in the day time. A huge building, +like a great hotel, rose skyward in a square. In the quadrangle in the +centre, which was paved with asphalt, was an ornamental fountain +surrounded by evergreen plants in tubs. + +The Professor strode under the archway, his feet echoing in the +stillness, and passed over the open space, which was brilliantly lit +with the hectic radiance of arc lamps. He entered one of the doorways, +and turning to the right of the ground-floor, away from the lift which +was in waiting to convey passengers to the higher storeys, he stopped at +No. 15. + +He took a latch-key from his pocket, opened the door, and entered. It +was very warm and close inside, and very silent also. The narrow hall +was lit by a crimson-globed electric lamp. It was heavily carpeted, and +thick curtains of plum-coloured plush, edged with round, fluffy balls of +the same colour, hung over the doors leading into it. + +He hung his hat up on a peg, and stood perfectly silent for a moment in +the warm, scented air. He could hear no sound but the ticking of a +French clock. The flat was obviously empty; and pulling aside one of +the curtains, he went into the dining-room. + +The place was full of light. Gertrude Hunt, or her maid, had, with +characteristic carelessness, forgotten to turn off the switches. +Llwellyn sat down and looked around him. How familiar the place was! The +casual visitor would have recognised at a glance that the occupant of +the room belonged to the dramatic profession. + +Photographs abounded everywhere. The satinwood overmantel was crowded +with them in heavy frames of chased silver. Bold enlargements hung on +the crimson walls; they were upright, and stacked in disorderly heaps +upon the grand piano. + +All were of one woman--a dark Jewish girl with eyes full of a fixed +fascination, a trained regard of allurement. + +The eyes pursued him everywhere; bold and inviting, he was conscious of +their multitude, and moved uneasily. + +The dining-table was in a curious litter. Half-empty cups of egg-shell +china stood upon a tray of Japanese lacquer inlaid with ivory and +silver; a cake basket held pink and honey-coloured bon-bons, among which +some cigarette ends had fallen. Two empty bottles, which had held +champagne, stood side by side, cheek by jowl, with a gilt tray, on which +was a miniature methyl lamp and some steel curling tongs. + +The arm-chairs were upholstered in pink satin. On one of them was a long +fawn-coloured tailor-made coat, hanging collar downwards over the back. +A handful of silver and a tiny gun-metal cigarette case had dropped out +of a pocket on to the seat of the chair. + +The whole place reeked with a well-known perfume--an evil, sickly smell +of ripe lilies and the acrid smoke of Egyptian tobacco. A frilled +dressing jacket covered with yellowish lace lay in a tumbled heap upon +the hearth-rug. + +The room would have struck an ordinary visitor with a sense of nausea +almost like a physical blow. There was something sordidly shameless +about it. The vulgarest and most material of Circes held sway among all +this gaudy and lavish disorder. The most sober-living and +innocent-minded man, brought suddenly into such a place, would have +known it instantly for what it was, and turned to fly as from a +pestilence. + +A week or two before, a picture of this den had appeared in one of the +illustrated papers. Underneath the photograph had been printed-- + + "THE BOUDOIR OF ONE OF LONDON'S POPULAR FAVOURITES. + + MISS GERTRUDE HUNT AT HOME." + +Below had been another picture--"Miss Hunt in her new motor-car." Robert +Llwellyn had paid four hundred pounds for the machine. + +The big man seemed to fit into these surroundings as a hand into a +glove. In his room at the Museum, on a platform at the Royal Society, +his intellect always animated his face. In such places his personality +was eminent, as his work also. + +Here he was changed. Silenus was twin to him; he sniffed the perfume +with pleasure; he stretched himself to the heat and warmth like a great +cat. He was an integral part of the _mise-en-scène_--lost, and arrogant +of his degradation. + +A key clicked in the lock, there was a rustling of silk, and Gertrude +Hunt swept into the room. + +"So you're come to time, then," she said in a deep, musical voice, but +spoilt by an unpleasing Cockney twang. "I'm dead tired. The theatre was +crammed; I had to sing the _Coon of Coons_ twice. Get me a +brandy-and-soda, Bob. There's a good boy--the decanter's in the +sideboard." + +She threw off her long cloak and sank into a chair. The sticky +grease-paint of the theatre had hardly been removed. She looked, as she +said, worn out. + +They chatted for a few moments on indifferent subjects, and she lit a +cigarette. When she took it from her lips, Llwellyn noticed that the end +was crimsoned by the paint upon them. + +"Well," she said at length, "somehow or other you must pay those bills I +sent on to you. They _must_ be paid. I can't do it. I'm only getting +twenty-five pounds from the theatre now, and that's just about enough to +pay my drink bill!" + +Llwellyn's face clouded. "I'm just about at my last gasp myself," he +said. "I'm threatened with bankruptcy as it is." + +"Oh, cheer up!" she cried. "Here, have a B. and S. I do hate to hear any +one talk like that. It gives me the hump at once. Now look here, Bob. +You know that I like you better than any one else. We've been pals for +seven or eight years now, and I'd rather have you a thousand times than +the others. You understand that, don't you?" + +He nodded back at her. His face was pleased at her expression of +affection, at the kindness of this dancing-girl to the great scholar! + +"But," she continued, "you know me, and you know that I can't go on +unless I have what I want all the time. And I want a lot, too. If you +can't give it me, Bob, it must be some one else--that's all. Captain +Parker's ready to do anything, any time. He's almost a millionaire, you +know. Can't you raise any 'oof anyhow? If I'd a thousand at once, and +another in a week or two, I could manage for a bit. But I _must_ have a +river-house at Shepperton. That cat, Lulu Wallace, has one, and an +electric launch and all. What about your German friend--the M.P.? _He's_ +got tons of stuff. Touch him for a bit more." + +"Had a letter from him this afternoon," said Llwellyn, "with a demand +for about fourteen thousand that I owe him now. Threatens to sell me up. +But there was something which looked brighter at the end of the letter, +though I couldn't quite make out what he was driving at." + +"What was that?" + +"The tone of the letter changed; it had been nasty before. He said that +I could do him a service for which he would not only wipe out the old +debt, but for which I could get a lot more money." + +"You'll go to him at once, Bob, won't you?" + +"I suppose I must. There's no way out of it. I can't think, though, how +I can do him any service. He's a dabbler, an amateur in my own work, but +he's not going to pay a good many thousands for any help in _that_." + +"Let it alone till you find out," she said, with the instinctive dislike +of her class to the prolonged discussion of anything unpleasant. She got +up and rang the bell for her maid and supper. + +For some reason Llwellyn could eat nothing. A weight oppressed him--a +presage of danger and disaster. The unspeakable mental torments that the +vicious man who is highly educated undergoes--torments which assail him +in the very act and article of his pleasures--have never been adequately +described. "What a frail structure his honours and positions were," he +thought as the woman chatted of the _coulisses_ and the blackguard news +of the _demi-monde_. His indulgent life had acted on the Professor with +a dire physical effect. His nerves were unstrung and he became +childishly superstitious. The slightest hint of misfortune set his brain +throbbing with a horrid fear. The spectre of overwhelming disaster was +always waiting, and he could not exorcise it. + +The two accidental and trivial facts that the knives at his place were +crossed, and that he spilt the salt as he was passing it to his +mistress, set him crossing himself with nervous rapidity. + +The girl laughed at him, but she was interested nevertheless. For the +moment they were on an intellectual level. He explained that the sign of +the Cross was said to avert misfortune, and she imitated him clumsily. + +Llwellyn thought nothing of it at the time, but the meaningless travesty +came back afterwards when he thought over that eventful night. + +Surely the holy sign of God's pain was never so degraded as now. + +Their conversation grew fitful and strained. The woman was physically +tired by her work at the theatre, and the dark cloud of menace crept +more rapidly into the man's brain. The hour grew late. At last Llwellyn +rose to go. + +"You'll get the cash somehow, dear, won't you?" she said with tired +eagerness. + +"Yes, yes, Gertie," he replied. "I suppose I can get it somehow. I'll +get home now. If it's a clear night I shall walk home. I'm +depressed--it's liver, I suppose--and I need exercise." + +"Have a drink before you go?" + +"No, I've had two, and I can't take spirits at this time." + +He went out with a perfunctory and uninterested kiss. She came to the +archway with him. + +London was now quite silent in its most mysterious and curious hour. +The streets were deserted, but brilliantly lit by the long row of lamps. + +They stood talking for a moment or two in the quadrangle. + +"Queer!" she said; "queer, isn't it, just now? I walked back from the +Covent Garden ball once at this time. Makes you feel lonesome. Well, so +long, Bob. I shall have a hot bath and go to bed." + +The Professor's feet echoed loudly on the flags as he approached the +open space. Never had he seemed to hear the noises of his own progress +so clearly before. It was disconcerting, and emphasised the fact of his +sole movement in this lighted city of the dead. + +On the island in the centre of the cross-roads he suddenly caught sight +of a tall policeman standing motionless under a lamp. The fellow seemed +a figure of metal hypnotised by the silence. + +Llwellyn walked onwards, when, just as he was passing the Oxford Music +Hall, he became conscious of quick footsteps behind him. He turned +quickly, and a man came up. He was of middle size, with polite, watchful +eyes and clean shaven. + +The stranger put his hand into the pocket of his neat, unobtrusive black +overcoat and drew out a letter. + +"For you, sir," he said in calm, ordinary tones. + +The Professor stared at him in uncontrollable surprise and took the +envelope, opening it under a lamp. This was the note. He recognised the +handwriting at once. + + "HOTEL CECIL. + + "DEAR LLWELLYN,--Kindly excuse the suddenness of my request and + come down to the Cecil with my valet. I have sent him to meet you. + I want to settle our business to-night, and I am certain that we + shall be able to make some satisfactory arrangement. I know you do + not go to bed early.--Most sincerely yours, + + "CONSTANTINE SCHUABE." + +"This is a very sudden request," he said to the servant rather +doubtfully, but somewhat reassured by the friendly signature of the +note. "Why, it's two o'clock in the morning!" + +"Extremely sorry to trouble you, sir," replied the valet civilly, "but +my master's strict orders were that I should find you and deliver the +note. He told me that you would probably be visiting at Bloomsbury Court +Mansions, so I waited about, hoping to meet you. I brought the _coupé_, +sir, in case we should not be able to get you a cab." + +Following the direction of his glance, Llwellyn saw that a small +rubber-tired brougham to seat two people was coming slowly down the +road. The coachman touched his hat as the Professor got in, and, turning +down Charing Cross Road, in a few minutes they drove rapidly into the +courtyard of the hotel. + +Schuabe had not been established at the Cecil for any length of time. +Though he owned a house in Curzon Street, this was let for a long period +to Miss Mosenthal, his aunt, and he had hitherto lived in chambers at +the Albany. + +But he found the life at the hotel more convenient and suited to his +temperament. His suite of rooms was one of the most costly even in that +great river palace of to-day, but such considerations need never enter +into his life. + +The utter unquestioned freedom of such a life, its entire liberation +from any restraint or convention, suited him exactly. + +Llwellyn had never visited Schuabe in his private apartments before at +any time. As he was driven easily to the meeting he nerved himself for +it, summoning up all his resolution. He swept aside the enervating +influences of the last few hours. + +Schuabe was waiting in the large sitting-room with balconies upon which +he could look down upon the embankment and the river. It was his +favourite among all the rooms of the suite. + +He looked gravely and also a little curiously at the Professor as he +entered the room. There was a question in his eyes; the guest had a +sensation of being measured and weighed with some definite purpose. + +The greeting was cordial enough. "I am very sorry, Llwellyn, to catch +you suddenly like this," Schuabe said, "but I should like to settle the +business between us without delay. I have certain proposals to make you, +and if we agree upon them there will be much to consider, as the thing +is a big one. But before we talk of this let me offer you something to +eat." + +The Professor had recovered his hunger. The chill of the night air, the +sudden excitement of the summons, and, though he did not realise it, the +absence of patchouli odours in his nostrils, had recalled an appetite. + +The space and air of the huge room, with its high roof, was soothing +after Bloomsbury Court Mansions. + +Supper was spread for two on a little round table by the windows. +Schuabe ate little, but watched the other with keen, detective eyes, +talking meanwhile of ordinary, trivial things. Nothing escaped him, the +little gleam of pleasure in Llwellyn's eyes at the freshness of the +caviare, the Spanish olives he took with his partridge--rejecting the +smaller French variety--the impassive watchful eyes saw it all. + +It was too late for coffee, Llwellyn said, when the man brought it, in a +long-handled brass pan from Constantinople, but he took a _kümmel_ +instead. + +The two men faced each other on each side of the table. Both were +smoking. For a moment there was silence; the critical time was at hand. +Then Schuabe spoke. His voice was cold and steady and very businesslike. +As he talked the voice seemed to wrap round Llwellyn like steel bands. +There was something relentless and inevitable about it; bars seemed +rising as he spoke. + +"I am going to be quite frank with you, Llwellyn," he said, "and you +will find it better to be quite frank with me." + +He took a paper from the pocket of his smoking jacket and referred to it +occasionally. + +"You owe me now about fourteen thousand pounds?" + +"Yes, it is roughly that." + +"Please correct me if I am wrong in any point. Your salary at the +British Museum is a thousand pounds a year, and you make about fifteen +hundred more." + +"Yes, about that, but how do you----" + +"I have made it my business to know everything, Professor. For example, +they are about to offer you knighthood." + +Llwellyn stirred uneasily, and the hand which stretched out for another +cigarette shook a little. + +"I need hardly point out to you," the cold words went on, and a certain +sternness began to enforce them, "I need hardly point out that if I were +to take certain steps, your position would be utterly ruined." + +"Bankruptcy need not entirely ruin a man." + +"It would ruin you. You see _I know where the money has gone_. Your +private tastes are nothing to me, and it is not my business if you +choose to spend a fortune on a cocotte. But in your position, as the +very mainspring and arm of the Higher Criticism of the Bible, the +revelations which would most certainly be made would ruin you +irreparably. Your official posts would all go at once, your name would +become a public scandal everywhere. In England one may do just what one +likes if only one does not in any way, by reason of position or +attainments, belong to the nation. You _do_ belong to the nation. You +can never defy public opinion. With the ethical point of view I have +nothing personally to do. But to speak plainly, in the eyes of the great +mass of English people you would be stamped as an irredeemably vicious +man, if everything came out. That is what they would call you. At one +blow everything--knighthood, honour, place--all would flash away. +Moreover, you would have to give up the other side of your life. There +would be no more suppers with Phryne or rides to Richmond in the new +motor-car." + +He laughed, a low, contemptuous laugh which stung. Llwellyn's face had +grown pale. His large, white fingers picked uneasily at the table-cloth. + +His position was very clearly shown to him, with greater horror and +vividness than ever it had come to him before, even in his moments of +acutest depression. + +The overthrow would be indeed utter and complete. With the greedy +imagination of the sensualist he saw himself living in some cheap +foreign town, Bruges perhaps, or Brussels, upon his wife's small income, +bereft alike of work and pleasure. + +"All you say is true," he murmured as the other made an end. "I am in +your power. It is best to be plain about these things. What is your +alternative?" + +"My alternative, if you accept it, will mean certain changes to you. +First of all, it will be necessary for you to obtain a year's leave from +the British Museum. I had thought of asking you to resign your position, +but that will not be necessary, I think, now. This can be arranged with +a specialist easily enough. Even if your health does not really warrant +it, a word from me to Sir James Fyfe will manage that. You will have to +travel. In return for your services and your absolute secrecy--though +when you hear my proposals you will realise that perhaps in the whole +history of the world never was secrecy so important to any man's +safety--I will do as follows. I will wipe off your debt at once. I will +pay you ten thousand pounds in cash this week, and during the year, as +may be agreed upon between us, I will make over forty thousand pounds +more to you. In all fifty thousand pounds, exclusive of your debt." + +His voice had not been raised, nor did it show any excitement during +this tremendous proposal. The effect on Llwellyn was very different. He +rose from his chair, trembling with excitement, staring with bloodshot +eyes at the beautiful chiselled face below. + +"You--you _mean_ it?" he said huskily. + +The millionaire made a single confirmatory gesture. + +Then the whole magnitude and splendour of the offer became gradually +plain to him in all its significance. + +"I suppose," he said, "that, as the payment is great, the risk is +commensurate." + +"There will be none if you do what I shall ask properly. Only two other +men living would do it, and, first and foremost, you will have to guard +against _their_ vigilance." + +"Then, in God's name, what do you ask?" Llwellyn almost shouted. The +tension was almost unbearable. + +Schuabe rose from his seat. For the first time the Professor saw that he +was terribly agitated. His eyes glowed, the apple in his throat worked +convulsively. + +"_You are to change the history of the world!_" + +He drew Llwellyn into the very centre of the room, and held him firmly +by the elbows. Tall as the Professor was, Schuabe was taller, and he +bent and whispered into the other's ear for a full five minutes. + +There was no sound in the room but the low hissing of his sibilants. + +Llwellyn's face became white, and then ashen grey. His whole body seemed +to shrink from his clothes; he trembled terribly. + +Then he broke away from his host and ran to the fireplace with an odd, +jerky movement, and sank cowering into an arm-chair, filled with an +unutterable dread. + + * * * * * + +As morning stole into the room the Professor took a bundle of bills and +acknowledgements from Schuabe and thrust them into the fire with a great +sob of relief. + +Then he turned into a bedroom and sank into the deep slumber of absolute +exhaustion. + +He did not go to the Museum that day. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +LAST WORDS AT WALKTOWN + + +The great building of the Walktown national schools blazed with light. +Every window was a patch of vivid orange in the darkness of the walls. +The whole place was pervaded by a loud, whirring hum of talk and +laughter and an incredible rattle of plates and saucers. + +In one of the classrooms down-stairs Helena Byars, with a dozen other +ladies of the parish, presided over a scene of intense activity. Huge +urns of tea ready mixed with the milk and sugar, were being carried up +the stone stairs to the big schoolroom by willing hands. Piles of thick +sandwiches of ham, breakfast-cups of mustard, hundreds of slices of +moist wedge-shaped cake covered the tables, lessening rapidly as they +were carried away to the crowded rooms above. + +A Lancashire church tea-party was in full swing, for this was the +occasion when Basil Gortre was to say an official farewell to the people +among whom he had worked in the North. + +In the tea-room itself several hundred people were making an enormous +meal at long tables, under flaring, naked gas-lights, which sent +shimmering vapours of heat up to the pitch-pine beams of the room above. + +On the walls of the schoolroom hung long, map-like pictures, heavily +glazed. Some of them were representations of foreign animals, or trees +and plants, with the names printed below each in thick black type. +Others represented scenes from the life of Christ, and though somewhat +stiff and wooden, showed clearly the immense strides that educational +art has taken during the past few years. + +At one end of the room was a platform running along its length. Some +palms and tree-ferns in pots, chairs, a grand piano, and some music +stands, promised a concert when tea should be over. + +All the ladies of the parish were acting as attendants, or presiding at +the urns on each table. There could be no doubt that the people were in +a state of high good humour and enjoyment. Every now and again a great +roar of laughter would break through the prevailing hum from one table +or another. Despite the almost stifling heat and a mixed odour of +humanity and ham, which a sensitive person might have shrunk from, the +rough, merry Lancashire folk were happy as may be. + +Basil Gortre, in his long, black coat, his skin somewhat pale from his +long illness, walked from table to table, spending a few minutes at +each. His face was wreathed in perpetual smiles, and roars of laughter +followed each sally of his wit, a homely cut-and-thrust style of humour +adapted to his audience. The fat mothers of families, wives of +prosperous colliers and artisans, with their thick gold earrings and +magenta frocks, beamed motherhood and kindliness at him. The +Sunday-school teachers giggled and blushed with pleasure when he spoke. + +The vicar, smiling paternally as was his wont, walked up and down the +gangways also, toying with the _pince-nez_ at his breast, and very +successfully concealing the fact from every one that he was by no means +in the seventh heaven of happiness. Tea-parties, so numerous and popular +in the North, were always somewhat of a trial to him. + +Basil and Mr. Byars met in the middle of the room when the tea was +nearly over. Tears were gleaming in the eyes of the younger man. + +"It is hard to leave them all," he said. "How good and kind they are, +how hearty! And these are the people I thought disliked me and +misunderstood me. I resented what I thought was a vulgar familiarity and +a coarse dislike. But how different they are beneath the surface!" + +"They have warm, loyal hearts, Basil," said the vicar. "It is a pity +that such uncouth manners and exteriors should go with them. Surface +graces may not mean much, but there is no doubt they have a tremendous +influence over the human mind. During your illness the whole parish +thought of little else, I really believe. And to-night you will have +very practical evidence of their friendship. You know, of course, that +there is going to be a presentation?" + +"Yes. I couldn't help knowing that much, though I wish they wouldn't." + +"It is very good of them. Now I shall call for grace." + +The vicar made his way on to the platform and loudly clapped his hands. +The tumult died suddenly away into silence, punctuated here and there by +a belated rattle of a teacup and the spasmodic choking of some one +endeavouring to bolt a large piece of cake in a hurry. + +"We will now sing grace," Mr. Byars said in a clear and audible +voice,--"the _Old Hundred_, following our usual custom." + +As he spoke a little, bearded man in a frock-coat clambered up beside +him. This was Mr. Cuthbert, the organist of the parish church. The +little man pulled a tuning-fork from his pocket and struck it on the +back of a chair. + +Then he held it to his ear for a moment. The people had all risen, and +the room was now quite silent. + +"La!" sang the little organist, giving the note in a long, melodious +call. + +He raised his hand, gave a couple of beats in the air, and the famous +old hymn burst out royally. The great volume of sound seemed too fierce +and urgent even for that spacious room. It pressed against the ear-drums +almost with pain, though sung with the perfect time and tune which are +the heritage of the sweet-voiced North-country folk:-- + + "_All people that on earth do dwell, + Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice!_" + +How hearty it was! How strong and confident! + +As Basil Gortre listened his heart expanded in love and fellowship +towards these brother Christians. The dark phantoms which had rioted in +his sick brain during the long weeks of his illness lay dead and +harmless now. The monstrous visions of a conventional and formal +Christianity, covering a world of secret and gibing atheism, seemed +incredibly far removed from the glorious truth, as these strong, homely +people sang a full-voiced _ave_ to the great brooding Trinity of Power +and Love unseen, but all around them. + +Who was he to be refined and too dainty for his uses? There seemed +nothing incongruous in the picture before his eyes. The litter of broken +ham, the sloppy cups, the black-coated men with brilliant sky-blue satin +ties, the women with thick gnarled hands and clothes the colour of a +copper kettle, what were they now but his very own brethren, united in +this burst of praise? + +And he joined in the doxology with all his heart and voice, his clear +tenor soaring joyously above the rest: + + "_To FATHER, SON, and HOLY GHOST, + The GOD Whom Heaven and earth adore, + From men and from the Angel-host + Be praise and glory evermore. Amen._" + +It ceased with suddenness. There was the satisfied silence of a second, +and then the attendant helpers, assisted by the feasters, fell swiftly +upon the tables. Cloths and crockery vanished like snow melting in +sunlight, and as each table was laid bare it was turned up by a patent +arrangement, and became a long bench with a back, which was added to the +rows of seats facing the platform. As each iron-supported seat was +pushed noisily into its place it was filled up at once with a laughing +crowd, replete but active, smacking anticipatory chops over the +entertainment and speech-making to come. + +Mr. Cuthbert, a painstaking pianist, whose repertoire was noisily +commonplace, opened the concert with a solo. + +Songs and recitations followed. All were well received by an audience +which was determined to enjoy itself, but it was obvious that the real +event of the gathering was eagerly awaited. + +At last the eventful moment arrived. A table covered with green baize +and bearing some objects concealed by a cloth was carried on the +platform, and a row of chairs placed on either side of it. + +The vicar, Basil, a strange clergyman, and a little group of +black-coated churchwardens and sidesmen filed upon the platform amid +tumultuous cheering and clapping of hands. + +Mr. Pryde, the solicitor, rose first, and pronounced a somewhat pompous +but sincere eulogy upon Basil's work and life at Walktown, which was +heard in an absolute and appreciative silence, only broken by the +scratching pencil of the reporter from a local paper. + +Then he called upon the vicar to make the presentation. + +Basil advanced to the table. + +"My dear friends and fellow-workers," said Mr. Byars, "I am not going to +add much to what Mr. Pryde has said. As most of you know, Mr. Gortre +stands and is about to stand to me in even a nearer and more intimate +relation than that of assistant priest to his parish priest. But before +giving Mr. Gortre the beautiful presents which your unbounded generosity +has provided, and in order that you may have as little speech-making +from me as possible, I want to take this opportunity of introducing the +Reverend Henry Nuttall to you to-night." + +He bowed towards the stranger clergyman, a pleasant, burly, clean-shaven +man. + +"I am going from among you for a couple of months, as I believe you have +been told, and Mr. Nuttall is to take my place as your temporary pastor +for that time. My doctor has ordered me rest for a time. So my daughter +and myself, together with Mr. Gortre, who sadly needs change after his +illness, and who is not to take up his duties in London for several +weeks, are going away together for a holiday. And now I will simply ask +Mr. Gortre to accept this tea-service and watch in the name of the +congregation of St. Thomas as a token of their esteem and good-will." + +He pulled the cloth away and displayed some glittering silver vessels. +Then he handed the agitated young man a gold watch in a leather case. + +Basil faced the shouting, enthusiastic crowd, staring through dimmed +eyes at the long rows of animated faces. + +When there was a little silence he began to speak in a voice of great +emotion. + +Very simply and earnestly he thanked them for their good-will and +kindness. + +"This may be," he said, "the last time I shall ever have the privilege +and pleasure of speaking to you. I want to give you one last message. I +want to urge one and all here to-night to do one thing. Keep your faith +unspotted, unstained by doubts, uninfluenced by fears. Do that and all +will be well with you here and hereafter." His voice sank a full tone +and he spoke with marked emphasis. "I have sometimes thought and felt of +late that possibly the time may be at hand, we who are here to-night may +witness a time, when the Powers and Principalities of evil will make a +great and determined onslaught upon the Christian Faith. I may not read +the signs of the times aright, my premonitions--for they have sometimes +amounted even to that--may be unfounded or imaginary. But if such a time +shall come, if the 'horror of great darkness,' a spiritual horror, that +we read of in Genesis, descend upon the world and envelop it in its +gloom and terror, oh! let us have faith. Keep the light burning +steadily. 'Let nothing disturb thee; let nothing affright thee. All +passeth: God only remaineth.' And now, dear brothers and sisters in the +Holy Faith, thank you, God bless you, and farewell." + +There was a tense silence as his voice dropped to a close. + +Here and there a woman sobbed. + +There was something peculiar about his warning. He spoke almost in +prophecy, as if he _knew_ of some terror coming, and saw its advance +from afar. His face, pale and thin from fever, his bright, earnest eyes, +not the glittering eyes of a fanatic, but the saner, wiser ones of the +earnest single-minded man, had an immense influence with them there. + +And that night, as they trudged home to mean dwellings, or suburban +villas, or rolled away in carriages, each person heard the intense, +quiet voice warning them of the future, exhorting them to be steadfast +in the Faith. + +Seed which bore most fragrant blossom in the time which, though they +knew it not, was close at hand was sown that night. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A DINNER AT THE PANNIER D'OR + + +Helena stood with her hand raised to her eyes, close by the port +paddle-box, staring straight in front of her at a faint grey line upon +the horizon. + +A stiff breeze was blowing in the Channel, though the sun was shining +brightly on the tossing waters, all yellow-green with pearl lights, like +a picture by Henry Moore. + +By the tall, graceful figure of the girl, swaying with the motion of the +steamer and bending gracefully to the sudden onslaughts of the wind, +stood a thick-set man of middle height, dressed in a tweed suit. His +face was a strong one. Heavy reddish eyebrows hung over a pair of clear +grey eyes, intellectual and kindly. The nose was beak-like and the +large, rugged, red moustache hid the mouth. + +This was Harold Spence, the journalist with whom Gortre was to live +after the holiday was over and he began his work in Bloomsbury. Spence +was snatching a few days from his work in Fleet Street, in order to +accompany Gortre and Mr. and Miss Byars to Dieppe. It had been his first +introduction to the vicar and his daughter. + +"So that is really France, Mr. Spence!" said Helena; "the very first +view of a foreign country I've ever had. I don't suppose you've an idea +of what I'm feeling now? It seems so wonderful, something I've been +waiting for all my life." + +Spence smiled kindly, irradiating his face with good humour as he did +so. + +"Well, _my_ sensations or emotions at present, Miss Byars, are entirely +confined to wondering whether I am going to be seasick or not." + +"Don't speak of it!" said a thin voice, a voice from which all the blood +seemed to be drained, and, turning, they saw the vicar at their elbow. + +His face was livid, his beard hung in lank dejection, a sincere misery +poured from his pathetic eyes. + +"Basil," he said, "Basil is down in the saloon eating greasy cold +chicken and ham and drinking pale ale! I told him it was an outrage--" +His feelings overcame him and he staggered away towards the stern. + +"Poor father," said the girl. "He never could stand the sea, you know. +But he very soon gets all right when he is on dry land again. Oh, look! +that must be a church tower! I can see it quite distinctly, and the sun +on the roofs of the houses!" + +"That is St. Jacques," said Spence, "and that dome some way to the +right, is St. Remy. Farthest of all to the right, on the cliffs, you can +just see the château where the garrison is." + +Helena gazed eagerly and became silent in her excitement. Basil, who +came up from the saloon and joined them, the healthy colour beginning to +glow out on his cheeks once more, watched her tenderly. There was +something childishly sweet in her delight as the broad, tub-like boat +kicked its way rapidly towards the quaint old foreign town. + +In smoky Walktown he had not often seen her thus. Life was a more sober +thing there, and her nature was graver than that of many girls, attuned +to her environment. But, at the beginning of this holiday time, under a +brilliant spring sun, which she was already beginning to imagine had a +foreign charm about it, she too was happy and in a holiday mood. + +Basil pulled out his new and glorious gold watch, which had replaced the +battered old gun-metal one he usually wore. Though not a poor man, he +was simple in all his tastes, and the new toy gave him a recurring and +childish pleasure whenever he looked at it. + +"We ought to be in in about twenty minutes," he said. "Have you noticed +that the tossing of the ship has almost stopped? The land protects us. +How clear the town is growing! I wonder if you will remember any of your +French, Helena? I almost wish I was like you, seeing a foreign country +for the first time. Spence is the real _voyageur_ though. He's been all +over the world for his paper." + +The vicar came up to them again, just as there was a general movement of +the passengers towards the deck. A hooting cry from the steam whistle +wailed over the water and the boat began to move slowly. + +In a few more minutes they had passed the breakwater and were gliding +slowly past the wharves towards the landing-stage. + +Suddenly Helena clutched hold of Basil's arm. + +"O Basil," she whispered, "how beautiful--look! Guarding the harbour!" + +He turned and followed the direction of her glance. + +An enormous crucifix, more than life size, planted in the ground, rose +from the low cliffs on the right for all entering the harbour to see. + +They watched the symbol in silence as the passengers chattered on every +side and gathered up their rugs and hand-bags. + +Gortre slipped his arm through Helena's. + +The reminder was so vivid and sudden it affected them powerfully. They +were both people of the world, living in it and enjoying the pleasures +of life that came in their way. Gortre was not one of those narrow, and +even ill-bred, young priests with a text for ever on his lips, a sort of +inopportune concordance, with an unpleasant flavour of omniscience. His +religion and Helena's was too deep and fibrous a thing for commonplaces +about it. It did not continually effervesce within and break forth in +minute and constant bubbles, losing all its sincerity and beauty by the +vulgar wear and tear of a verbal trick. + +But it was always and for ever with him a transmuting force which +changed his life each hour in a way of which the nominal believer has no +conception. + +A letter he had once written to Helena during a holiday compressed all +his belief, and his joy in his belief, into a few short lines. Thus had +run the sincere and simple statement, unadorned by any effort of +literary grace to give it point and force:-- + + "Day by day as your letters come I go on saying my prayers for you, + and with you, in fresh faith and confidence. You know that I + absolutely trust the Lord Jesus Christ, who is, I believe, the God + who made the worlds, and that I pray to Him continually, relying on + His promises. + + "I keep on reading all sides of the question, as your father does + also, and while admitting all that honest criticism and sincere + intellectual doubt can teach me, and freely conceding that there is + no infallible record in the New Testament, I grow more and more + convinced that the Gospels and Paul's letters relate _facts_ and + not imaginations or hallucinations. And the more strongly my + intellect is convinced, so much more does my heart delight in the + love of God, who has given Himself for me. How magnificent is that + finale of St. John's Gospel! 'Thomas saith unto Him, My Lord and my + God.' And, then, how exquisite is the supplement about the + manifestation at the lake side! Imagine the skill of the literary + man who INVENTED that! Fancy such a man existing in A.D. 150 or + thereabouts! I see Mrs. Humphry Ward says 'it was a dream which the + old man at Ephesus related, and his disciples thought it was fact.' + And _she_ is a literary person!" + +So, as the lovers glided slowly past the high symbol of God's pain, the +worship in their hearts found but little utterance on their lips, though +they were deeply touched. + +It seemed a good omen to welcome them to France! + +Spence remained to look after the luggage and to see it through the +Customs, and the three others resolved to walk to the rooms which they +had taken in the Faubourg de la Barre on the steep hill behind the +château. + +They passed over the railway line in the middle of the road, and past +the _cafés_ which cluster round the landing-stage, into the quaint +market-place, with the great Gothic Cathedral Church of St. Jacques upon +one side, and the colossal statue of Duquesne surrounded by baskets of +spring flowers in the centre. + +To Helena Byars that simple progress was one of unalloyed excitement and +delight. The small and wiry soldiers in their unfamiliar uniforms; an +officer sipping vermouth in a _café_, with spurs, sword, and helmet +shining in the sun; two black priests, with huge furry hats--all the +moving colour of the scene gave her new and delightful sensations. + +"It's all so different!" she said breathlessly. "So bright and gay. What +is that red thing over the tobacco shop, and that little brass dish over +the hair-dresser's? Think of Walktown or Salford, now!" + +The house in the Faubourg de la Barre was kept by a Madame Varnier, who +spoke English well, and was in the habit of letting her rooms to +English people. A late _déjeuner_ was ready for them. + +The omelette was a revelation to Helena, and the _rognons sautés_ filled +her with respect for such cooking, but she was impatient, nevertheless, +to be out and sight-seeing. + +The vicar was tired, and proposed to stay indoors with the _Spectator_, +and Spence had some letters to write, so Basil and Helena went out +alone. + +"The vicar and I will meet you at six," Spence said, "at the Café des +Tribuneaux, that big place with the gabled roof in the centre of the +town. At six the _l'heure verre_ begins, the time when everyone goes out +for an _apéritif_, the appetiser before dinner; afterwards I'll take you +to dine at the Pannier d'Or, a jolly little restaurant I know of, and in +the evening we'll go to the Casino." + +Madame Varnier, the _patronne_, was in her kitchen sitting-room at the +bottom of the stairs, and they looked in through the hatchway as they +passed to tell her that they were not dining indoors. + +On the floor a little girl, with pale yellow hair, an engaging button of +three, was playing with a live rabbit, plump and mouse-coloured. + +"How sweet!" said Helena, who was in a mood which made her ready to +appreciate everything. "Look at the little darling with its pet. Has +baby had the rabbit long, Madame Varnier?" + +The Frenchwoman smiled lavishly. "Est-elle gentille l'enfant! hein! I +bring the lapin chez moi from the magazin yesterday. There was very good +lapins yesterday. I buy when I can. Je trouverai ça plus prudent. He is +for the déjeuner of mademoiselle to-morrow. I take him so,"--she caught +up the animal and suited the action to the word,--"I press his throat +till his mouth open, and I pour a little cognac into him. Il se meurt, +and the flesh have a delicious flavour from the cognac!" + +"How perfectly horrible!" said Helena as they came out into the street +and walked down the hill. "Fancy seeing one's lunch alive and playing +about like that, and then killing it with brandy, too! What pigs these +French people are!" + +Soon after the cool gloom of St. Remy enveloped them. Under the big dome +they lingered for a time, walking from chapel to chapel, where nuns were +praying. But it dulled them rather, and they had more pleasure in the +grey and Gothic twilight of St. Jacques. Here the eye was uplifted by +more noble lines, there was a more mediæval and romantic feeling about +the place. + +"We will come here to Mass on Sunday," said Basil. "I shall not go to +the English Church at all. I never do abroad, and the vicar agrees with +me. You see one belongs to the Catholic Church in England. In France one +belongs to it, too. The 'Protestant' Church, as they call it, with an +English clergyman, is, of course, a Dissenting church here." + +"I see your point," said Helena, "though I don't know that I quite agree +with it. But I have never been to a Roman Catholic church in England, +and I want to see some of the services. 'Bowing down in the House of +Rimmon,' Mr. Philemon would call it at Walktown." + +They turned down a narrow street of quiet houses, and came out on to the +Plage. There were a good many people walking up and down the great +promenade from the Casino to the harbour mouth. An air of fulness and +prosperity floated round the magnificent hotels which faced the sea. + +It was a spring season, owing to the unusual mildness of the weather, +and Dieppe was full of people. The Casino was opened temporarily after +the long sleep of the winter, and a company was performing there, +having come on from the theatre at Rouen. + +"What a curious change from the churches and market-place," said Helena. +"This is tremendously smart and fashionable. How well-dressed every one +is. Look at that red-haired woman with the furs. This is being quite in +the world again." + +They began a steady walk towards the pier and lighthouse. The wind was +fresh, though not troublesome, and at five o'clock the sun, low in the +sky, was still bright, and could give his animation to the picture. + +The two young people amused themselves by speculations about the varied +types of people who passed and repassed them. Gortre wore a suit of very +dark grey, with a short coat and an ordinary tweed cap--his holiday +suit, he called it--and, except for his clerical collar, there was +little to show his calling. He was pleased, with a humorous sense of +proprietorship, a kind of vicarious vanity, to notice the attention and +admiration excited by the beautiful English girl at his side. + +Helena Byars held her own among the cosmopolitan crowd of women who +walked on the Plage. Her beauty was Saxon, very English, and not of a +type that is always appreciated to its full value on the Continent, but +it shone the more from Latin contrasts, and could not escape remark. + +Every now and again they turned, at distances of a quarter of a mile or +so, and during the recurrence of their beat they began to notice a +person whom they met several times, coming and going. + +He was an enormously big man, broad and tall, dressed expensively and +with care. His size alone was sufficient to mark him out of the usual, +but his personality seemed to them no less arresting and strange. + +His large, smooth face was fat, the eyes small and brilliant, with +heavy pouches under them. His whole manner was a trifle florid and +Georgian. Basil said that he seemed to belong to the Prince Regent's +period in some subtle way. "I can imagine him on the lawns at Brighton +or dining in the Pavilion," he said. "What a sensual, evil face the man +has! Of course it may mean nothing, though. The Bishop of ----, one of +the saints of the time, whose work on the Gospels is the most wonderful +thing ever done in the way of Christian apologetics, has a face like one +of the grotesque devils carved on the roof of Notre Dame or Lincoln +Cathedral. But this man seems by his face to have no soul. One can't +feel it is there, as one does, thank God! with most people." + +"But what an intellect such a man must have! Look at him now. Look at +the shape of his head. And besides, you can see it in his face, despite +its sensuality and materialism. He must be some distinguished person. I +seem to remember pictures of him, just lately, too, in the illustrated +papers, only I can't get a name to them. I'm certain he's English, and +some one of importance." + +The big man passed them again with a quiet and swift glance of +appreciation for Helena. He seemed lonely. Basil and Helena realised +that he would have welcomed a chance word of greeting, some overture of +friendship, which is not so impossible between English people +abroad--even in adjacent Dieppe--as in our own country. + +But neither of them responded to the unspoken wish they felt in the +stranger. They were quite happy with each other, and presently they saw +him light a cigar and turn into one of the great hotels. + +They discussed the man for a few minutes--he had made an odd impression +on them by his personality--and then found that it was time for the +rendezvous at the Café des Tribuneaux. + +By this time dusk was falling, and the sea moaned with a certain +melancholy. But the town began to be brilliant with electric lights, and +the florid Moorish building of the Casino was jewelled everywhere. + +They turned away to the left, leaving the sea behind them, and, passing +through a narrow street by the Government tobacco factory, came into the +town again, and, after a short walk, to the _café_. + +The place was bright and animated--lights, mirrors, and gilding, the +stir and movement of the pavement, combined to make a novel and +attractive picture for the English girl. The night was not cold, and +they sat under the awning at a little round table watching the merry +groups with interest. In a few minutes after their arrival they saw +Spence and the vicar, now quite restored and well, coming towards them. +They had forborne to order anything before the arrival of their +companions. + +The journalist took them under his wing at once. It amused him to be a +cicerone to help them to a feeling of being at home. Gortre and Mr. +Byars had been in Switzerland, and the latter at Rome on one occasion, +but under the wing of a bishop's son who made his livelihood out of +personally conducting parties to Continental towns of interest for a +fixed fee. There was little freedom in these cut-and-dried tours, with +their lectures _en route_ and the very dinners in the hotel ordered for +the tourists, and everything so arranged that they need not speak a word +of any foreign language. + +For the vicar, Spence prescribed a _vermouth sec_; Gortre, a courtesy +invalid, was given a minute glass of an amber-coloured liquid with +quinine in it--"_Dubonnet_" Spence called it; and Helena had a _sirop_ +of _menthe_. + +They were all very happy together in the simple-minded, almost childish, +way of quiet, intellectual people. Their enjoyment of the novel +liqueurs, in a small _café_ at tourist-haunted Dieppe, was as great as +that of any sybarite at the Hotel Ritz in Paris, or at a rare dinner at +Ciro's in Monte Carlo. + +Spence ordered an absinthe for himself. + +The vicar seemed slightly perturbed. "Isn't that stuff rather dangerous, +Spence?" he said, shrinking a little from the glass when the waiter +brought it. "I've heard terrible things of it." + +"Oh, I know," said the journalist, laughing, "people call it the French +national vice and write tirades against it. Of course if it becomes a +regular habit it is dangerous, and excess in absinthe is worse than most +things. But one glass taken now and again is a wonderful stomachic and +positively beneficial. I take one, perhaps, five times in a year and +like it. But, like all good things, it is terribly abused both by the +people who use it and those who don't." + +Suddenly Helena turned to Gortre. + +"Oh, look, Basil!" she said. "There is our friend of the Plage--Quinbus +Flestrin, the mountain of flesh, you remember your Swift?" + +The big stranger, now in evening dress and a heavy fur coat, had just +come into the _café_ and was sitting there with a cigarette and a Paris +paper. He seemed lost in some sort of anxious speculation--at least so +it seemed by the drooping of the journal in his massive fingers and the +set expression of abstraction which lingered in his eyes and spread a +veil over his countenance. + +They had all turned at Helena's exclamation and looked towards the other +side of the _café_, where the man was sitting. + +"Why, that's Sir Robert Llwellyn," said Spence. + +The vicar looked up eagerly. "The great authority on the antiquities of +the Holy Land?" he said. + +"Yes, that's the man. They knighted him the other day. He's supposed to +be the greatest living authority, you know." + +"Do you know him, then?" asked the vicar. + +"Oh, yes," said Spence, carelessly. "One knows every one in my trade. I +have to. I've often gone to him for information when anything very +special has been discovered. And I've met him in clubs and at lectures +or at first nights at the theatre. He is a great play-goer." + +"A decent sort of man?" said Gortre in a tone which certainly implied a +doubt. + +Spence hesitated a moment. "Oh, well, I suppose so," he said carelessly. +"There are tales about his private life, but probably quite untrue. He's +a man of the world as well as a great scholar, and I suppose the rather +unusual combination makes people talk. But he is right up at the top of +the tree,--goes everywhere; and he's just been knighted for his work. +I'll go over and speak to him." + +"If he'll come over," said the vicar, his eyes alight with anticipation +and the hope of a talk with this famous expert on the subjects nearest +his own heart, "bring him, _please_. There is nothing I should like +better than a chat with him. I know his _Modern Discoveries and Holy +Writ_ almost by heart." + +They watched Spence go across to Sir Robert's table. The big man started +as he was spoken to, looked up in surprise, then smiled with pleasure, +and extended a welcoming hand. Spence sat down beside him and they were +soon in the middle of a brisk conversation. + +"The poor man looked very bored until Mr. Spence spoke to him," said +Helena. "Father, I'm sure you'll have your wish. He seems glad to have +some one to talk to." + +She was right. After a minute or two the journalist returned with +Llwellyn, and the five of them were soon in a full flood of talk. + +"I was going to dine alone at my hotel," said the Professor, at length; +"but Spence says that he knows of a decent restaurant here. I wonder if +you would let me be one of your party? I'm quite alone in Dieppe for a +couple of days. I'm waiting for a friend with whom I am going to +travel." + +"Oh, do come, Sir Robert," said the vicar, with manifest pleasure. "Are +you going to be away from England for long?" + +"I have leave from the British Museum for a year," said the Professor. +"My doctor says that I require absolute rest. I am _en route_ for +Marseilles and from there to Alexandria." + +The Pannier d'Or proved a pleasant little place, and the dinner was +excellent. The Professor surprised and then amused the others by his +criticism of the viands. He made the dinner his especial business, sent +for the cook and had a serious conversation with him, chose the wines +with extreme care. + +His knowledge of the culinary art was enormous, and he treated it with a +kind of reverence, addressing himself more particularly to Helena. + +"Yes, Miss Byars, you must be _most_ careful in the preparation of +really good crayfish soup. This is excellent. The great secret is to +flavour with a little lobster spawn and to mix the crumb of a French +roll with the stock--white stock of course--before you add the powdered +shells and anchovies." + +Many times, despite his impatience to get to deeper and more congenial +subjects, the vicar smiled at the purring of this gourmet, who seemed to +prefer a sauce to an inscription and rissoles to research. + +But with the special coffee--covered with fine yellow foam and +sweetened with crystals of amber sugar--the vicar's hour came. Sir +Robert realised that it was inevitable and with a half sigh gave the +required opening. + +Once started, his manner changed utterly. The mask of materialism peeled +away from his face, which became younger, brighter, as thought animated +it, and new, finer lines cames out upon it as knowledge poured from him. + +The conversation threatened to be a long one. Spence saw that and +proposed to go on to the Casino with Helena, leaving the two clergymen +with Llwellyn. It was when they had gone that the trio settled down +completely. + +It resolved itself at first into a duologue between the two elder men. +Gortre's knowledge was too general and superficial on these purely +antiquarian matters to allow him to take much part in it. He sat sipping +his coffee and listening with keen attention and great enjoyment to this +talk of experts. He had not liked Llwellyn from the first and could not +do so even now, but he was forced to recognise the enormous intellectual +activity and power of the big, purring creature before him. + +Step by step the two archæologists went over the new discoveries being +made in the ground between the City Wall of Jerusalem and the Hill of +"Jeremiah's Grotto." They talked of the blue and purple mosaics found on +the Mount of Olives, of all that had been done by the English and German +excavators during the past years. + +Gradually the discussion became more intimate and began to touch on +great issues. + +Mr. Byars was in a state of extraordinary interest. His knowledge was +wide, and Llwellyn early realised this, speaking to him as an equal, +but beside the Professor's all-embracing achievements it was as nothing. +The clergyman learnt something fresh, some sudden illuminating point of +view, some irradiating fact, at every moment. + +"I suppose," Mr. Byars said at length, "that the true situation of the +Holy Sepulchre is still a matter of considerable doubt, Professor. Your +view would interest me extremely." + +"My view," said Llwellyn, with remarkable earnestness and with an +emphasis which left no doubt about his convictions, "is that the +Sepulchre has not yet been located." + +"And your view is authoritative of course," said Mr. Byars. + +The Professor bowed. + +"That is as it may be," he said, "but I have no doubt upon the subject. +The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is quite out of the question. There is +really no historical evidence for it beyond a foolish dream of the +Empress Helena, in A.D. 326. The people who _know_ dismiss the +traditional site at once. Of course it is _generally_ believed, but one +cannot expect the world at large to be cognisant of the doings of the +authorities. Canon MacColl has said that the traditional site is the +real one, and as his name has never been out of the public eye since +what were called 'The Bulgarian Atrocities,' they are content to follow +his lead. Then there is the question of the second site, in which a +great many people believe they have found the true Golgotha and +Sepulchre. 'The Gordon Tomb,' as it has been called, excited a great +deal of attention at the time of its discovery. You may remember that I +went to Jerusalem on behalf of the _Times_ to investigate the matter. +You may recollect that I proved beyond dispute that the tomb was not +Jewish at all, but indubitably Christian and long subsequent to the time +of Christ. As a matter of fact, when the tomb was excavated in 1873 it +was full of human bones and the mould of decomposed bodies, and there +were two red-painted crosses on the walls. The tomb was close to a large +Crusading hospice, and I have no doubt that it was used for the burial +of pilgrims. Besides, my excavations proved that the second "city wall" +must have _included_ the new site, so that the Gospel narrative at once +demolishes the new theory. I embodied twenty-seven other minor proofs in +my letters to the _Times_ also. No, Mr. Byars, my conviction is that we +are not yet able to locate in any way the position of Golgotha and the +Holy Tomb." + +"You think that is to come?" asked Gortre. + +"_I feel certain_," answered the Professor, with great deliberation and +meaning--"_I feel certain that we are on the eve of stupendous +discoveries in this direction_." + +His tones were so impressive and so charged with import that the two +clergymen looked quickly at each other. It seemed obvious that Llwellyn +was aware of some impending discoveries. He must, they knew, be in +constant touch with all that was being done in Palestine. Curiously +enough, his words gave each of them a certain sense of chill, of +uneasiness. There seemed to be something behind them, something of +sinister suggestion, which they could not divine or formulate, but +merely felt as an action upon the nerves. + +It was a rare experience to sit with the greatest living authority upon +a subject, and hear his views--views which it would be folly not to +accept. His knowledge was so sure and so profound, a sense of power +flowed from him. + +But though both men felt a dim premonition of what his words might +possibly convey, neither could bring himself to a deliberate question. +Nor did Llwellyn appear to invite it. During the whole of their talk he +had sedulously avoided any religious questions. He had dealt solely with +historical aspects. + +His position in the religious world was singular. His knowledge of +Biblical history was one of its assets, but he was not known definitely +as a believer. + +His attitude had always been absolutely non-committal. He did the work +he had to do without taking sides. + +It had become generally understood that no definite statement of his own +personal convictions was to be asked or expected from him. + +The general consensus of opinion was that Sir Robert Llwellyn was _not_ +a believer in the divinity of Christ; but it was merely an opinion, and +had never been confirmed by him. + +There was rather a tense silence for a short time. + +The Professor broke it. + +"Let me show you," he said, taking a gold pencil-case from his pocket, +"a little map which I published at the time of the agitation about +Gordon's Tomb. I can trace the course of the city walls for you." + +He felt in his pocket for some paper on which to make the drawing, and +took out a letter. + +Gortre and the vicar drew their chairs closer. + +Suddenly a curious pain shot through Basil's head and all his pulses +throbbed violently. He experienced a terribly familiar sensation--the +sick fear and repulsion of the night before his illness in the great +library. The aroma of some utterly evil and abominable personality +seemed to come into his brain. + +For, as he had looked down at the paper on which the great white fingers +were now tracing thin lines, he had seen, before Llwellyn turned it +over, a firm, plain signature, thus: + + Constantine Schuabe + +With some excuse about the heat of the room, he left it and went out +into the night. + +His brain was busy with terrible intuitive forebodings, he seemed to be +caught up in the fringe of some great net, the phantoms of his illness +came round him once more, the dark air was thick with their +wings--vague, and because of that more hideous. + +He passed the lighted _kiosk_ at the Casino entrance with a white, set +face. + +He was going home to pray. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +INAUGURATION + + +It was at Victoria Station that Basil said good-bye to Helena. Spence +had been back again in London for a fortnight. Mr. Byars and his +daughter were to go straight back to Manchester the same day, and Gortre +was to take possession of his new quarters in Lincoln's Inn and enter on +his duties at St. Mary's without delay. + +It had been a pleasant holiday, they all agreed, as the train brought +them up from Newhaven; how pleasant they had hardly realised till it was +all over. They had been all brought more intimately together than ever +before. Gortre had come to know Mr. Byars with far more completeness +than had been possible during their busy parochial life at Walktown. The +elder man's calm and steadfast belief, his wide knowledge and culture, +the Christian _sanity_ of his life, were never more manifest than in the +uninterrupted communion of this time of rest and pleasure. + +He saw in his future father-in-law such a man as he himself humbly hoped +that he might become. The impulsiveness of an eager youth had toned down +into the mature judgment of middle age. The enthusiasms of life's +springtime had solidified into quiet strength and force, and faith and +intellect had combined into a deep and immovable conviction. And Mr. +Byars's was no simple, childlike nature to whom goodness and belief were +easy, a natural attribute of the man. He was subtle rather, complex, +and the victory over himself had cost him more than it costs most men. +So much Gortre realised, and his love and admiration for the vicar were +tempered with that joyous awe that one fine nature is privileged to feel +at the contact with another. + +To Helena also this time of holiday had been very precious. To mark the +fervour of her chosen one, the energy he threw into Life, Love, and +Religion, to find him a _man_ and yet a priest, to follow him in thought +to the ivory gates of his Ideals--these were her uplifting occupations; +and to all these as they walked and talked, listened to the music at the +Casino, explored the ancient forest and castle at Arques, or knelt with +bowed heads as the sacring bell rang and the priests moved about the +altar--these had been the united bond of the great knowledge and hope +they shared together. + +After the farewells had been said in the noisy station, and Basil's cab +drove him rapidly towards his new home, he felt wonderfully ready and +prepared for his new work. + +The moving panorama of Victoria Street, the sudden stately vision of +Palace Yard, the grandeur of the Embankment--all spoke to the young man +of a vivid, many-coloured, and pulsating life which was waiting for him +and his activities. Here, indeed, was a fine battlefield and theatre for +the Holy War. + +The cab moved slowly up Chancery Lane and then turned into the sudden +quiet of Lincoln's Inn. It was almost like going back to Oxford, he +thought, with a quick glow of pleasure to see himself surrounded by +mellow, ancient buildings once more. + +All his heavy personal effects had been sent up from Walktown some days +before, and when he had carried up his two portmanteaus he knocked at +the "oak" or outside door of the chambers, which was shut, and waited +for a response. He saw that his name was freshly painted on the lintel +of the door under the two others: + + +---------------------------------------+ + | | + | MR. HAROLD M. SPENCE. | + | | + | MR. CYRIL HANDS. | + | | + | REV. BASIL GORTRE. | + | | + +---------------------------------------+ + + +In a minute he heard footsteps. The inner door was opened and he saw a +tall, thin man, bearded and brown, peering at him through spectacles. + +"Ah! Gortre, I suppose," said the other. "We were expecting you. I'm +Hands, you know, home for another month yet. Give me these bags. Come +in, come in." + +He followed the big, stooping fellow with a sense of well-being at the +cheery bohemianism of his greeting. + +He found himself in a very large room indeed, panelled from floor to +ceiling, the woodwork painted a sage green. Three great windows, each +with a cushioned seat in its recess, looked down into the quadrangle +below. Curtained doors faced him on all sides of the room, which was +oddly shaped and full of nooks and angles. Books and newspapers covered +two or three writing-tables and were piled on shelves between the doors. +A bright fire burned in a large grate and the mantel above was covered +with Oxford photographs, pipes, and tobacco jars. There was a note of +comfort everywhere, of luxurious comfort though not of luxury. The +furniture was not new and it bore the signs of long use no less than +careful choice. Bohemia it was, but not a squalid Bohemia. If a room can +have a personality, this was a _gentlemanly_ room. One saw that +gentlemen lived here, men who, without daintiness or a tinge of the +sybarite, yet liked a certain order and fitness around them. At once +Basil felt in key with the place. There was no jarring note anywhere. + +"I've got you a sort of meal, Gortre," said Hands, pleasantly, "though +we were rather in doubt as to what a man could want at four o'clock in +the afternoon! Spence suggested afternoon tea, as you'll be wanting to +dine later on. But Mrs. Buscall, our laundress, suggested cold beef and +Bass's beer--after a sea voyage which she regards as a sort of Columbus +adventure. So fall to--here you are. Harold is just getting up." + +Indeed, as he spoke there came a noise of vigorous splashing from behind +one of the closed doors and Spence's voice bellowed out a greeting. + +Basil looked puzzled for a moment and Hands laughed as he saw it. + +"You must remember that Spence doesn't get back from the office till +three in the morning," he said. "He's writing four leaders a week now, +and on his late nights, when he comes back, his brain is too alert and +excited to sleep, so he has some Bovril and just works away at other +stuff till morning. He won't interfere with us, though. I never hear him +come in, nor will you. These chambers are a regular rabbit warren for +size and ramification." + +Basil went into the bedroom he was to have, a spacious, clean, and +simply furnished place, and when he came out again for his meal found +Spence, in a loose suit of flannels, smoking a cigarette. The journalist +joined him at the table. + +In a very short time Gortre felt thoroughly at home. He knew by a kind +of instinct that he should be happy in Lincoln's Inn. Hands had still a +month to spend in London before he went back to Palestine to continue +his work for the Exploring Society, and he looked forward to many +interesting talks with him, the actual agent and superintendent of the +work at Jerusalem, the trained eye and arm of the great and influential +English Society. + +And as for Spence, he had known him intimately ever since his first +Oxford days, many years ago now. Harold Spence was like a brother to +him--had always been that. + +The first hour's conversation, desultory as it was, in a sense, showed +him how full and varied his new life promised to be. After the noisy +seclusion of Walktown he felt that he was now in the centre of things. +Both Spence and Hands were thoroughly cultured men, and both were +distinguished above the crowd in their respective spheres. + +Basil heard keen, critical, "inside" talk for almost the first time. His +two companions knew everybody, were at the hub of things. Two nights ago +Spence had been talking to the Prime Minister for ten minutes.--_The +Daily Wire_ was the unofficial Government organ. Hands had been at +Lambeth with the Archbishop, the president and patron of the Palestine +Society. They were absolute types of the keen, vigorous, and _young_ +mental aristocracy which is always on the active service of English +life. They belonged to the executive branch. + +"I'm sorry, Basil," Spence said suddenly, "I've got a note for you from +Father Ripon. I forgot to give it to you. He sent it down by a special +messenger this morning. Here it is." + +Father Ripon was the vicar of St. Mary's, Gortre's new chief. + +He took the note and opened it, reading as follows: + + "THE CLERGY HOUSE, + "ST MARY'S, BLOOMSBURY. + + "DEAR MR. GORTRE,--Friend Spence says that you will arrive in + London this afternoon. I don't believe in wasting time and I want a + good long talk with you before you begin your work with us. + To-night I am due at Bethnal Green to give a lecture. I shall be + driving home about ten and I'll call at Lincoln's Inn on my way. If + this will not be too late for you, we can then talk matters + over.--Sincerely yours in Christ, ARTHUR RIPON." + +Basil passed the note to Spence. + +"That'll be all right," he said. "I shall be at work, and Hands will be +in his own room. What a man Ripon is! He's just the incarnation of +breezy energy. Brusque, unconventional as Dr. Parker himself, but one of +the sincerest Christians and best men I ever met or ever shall meet. He +signs his note like that because he means it. He hates cant, and what in +some men would appear cant, or at least a rather unnecessary form of +ending, is to him just an ordinary every-day fact. You will get on with +Father Ripon, Basil, I'm sure. You'll get to love the man as we all do. +I never knew any one so absolutely joyous as he is. He's about the +happiest man in town, I should say. His private income is nearly two +thousand a year, and his living's worth something too, and yet I don't +suppose his own expenses are fifty pounds. He lives more or less on +porridge--when he remembers to eat at all--and his only extravagance is +hansom cabs, so that he can cram more work into the day." + +They all laughed, and Spence began to tell anecdotes of the famous +"ritualistic" parson who daily filled more stomachs, saved more souls, +and shocked more narrow-minded people than any two men in Crockford. + +At seven o'clock they all went out together--Spence to his adjacent +office in Fleet Street, the other two to dine quietly at the University +Club. + +"London depresses me," said Hands, when they were seated on the top of +an omnibus and rolling westward through the Strand. "I am afraid that I +shall never be in love with London any more. I always dislike my +vacations, or rather my business visits to town. It's necessary that I +attend the annual meeting of the Society and see people in authority, +and I have to give a few lectures too. But I hate it all the same. I +love the simple life of the East, the sun, the deep blue shadows, my +silent Arabs. I know of no more beautiful sight than the Holy City--why +do they call Rome the 'Holy City'? Jerusalem is the Holy City--when the +hills are covered with the January snows. It is a wonderful, immemorial +land, Gortre, a silent, beautiful country. Just before I came over here +I spent a fortnight working at some inscriptions in a very ancient Latin +monastery. I never knew such peace. The monks are all sad-faced, +courteous Syrians, and they move along the rock balconies like benignant +ghosts. And then one comes back and is plunged into this!" + +He threw out his hand over the side of the omnibus with a note of +disgust in his rather dreamy voice. The Strand was all brilliantly lit +and waiting crowds stood by all the theatre doors. Men and women passed +in and out of the bright orange light of bars and restaurants, and small +filthy boys stabbed the deep roar of the traffic with their shrill +voices as they called out the evening papers. + +They dined quietly and simply at the big warm club in Piccadilly. Hands +did most of the talking and Gortre was content to listen to the pleasant +monotony of the low, level voice and to fall under the man's peculiar +spell or charm--a charm that he always exercised upon another artistic +temperament. + +Hands was a poet by nature and sentiment. His strange, lonely life among +the evidences of the past under the Eastern sky had toned, mellowed, +and orientalised his vision. + +As he listened Gortre also began to feel something of the mystery and +magic influence of that country of God's birth. + +It was half-past nine when they got back to the chambers again. Hands +went at once to his own room to work and Basil sat down in front of a +red, glowing fire, gazing into the hot caverns, lost in reverie. It was +as though he had taken some opiate and there was nothing better in life +than to sit thus and dream in the warm silence of the firelit room. + +A few minutes after ten he was suddenly called out of the clouds by a +furious knocking at the door of the chambers. + +The sound cut into his dreams like a knife. + +He went to open the door, and Father Ripon, his new vicar, came in like +a whirlwind. His voluminous black cloak brought cold air in its folds; +his breezy, genial personality was so actual a fact, struck such a +strident, material note, that dreams and reverie fled before it. + +Gortre turned up the gas-jets and flooded the room with light. + +Father Ripon was a tall, well-made man, too active to be portly, but +with hints of a tendency towards plumpness, which was never allowed to +ripen. His iron-grey hair was cropped close to his large, well-shaped +head. The shrewd, merry eyes, of a rare red-hazel colour, were shaded by +heavy grey brows, which gave them a singular directness and penetration. +The nose was aquiline, the lips thin, though the mouth was large, and +the chin massive and somewhat protruding. The mobile face, lined and +seamed by the strenuous life of its owner, was very seldom in repose. It +glowed and flashed continually with changing expression. On those +occasions when the play of feature sank to rest for a moment, at the +giving of a benediction or the saying of a solemn prayer in church, a +nobility and asceticism transformed the face into something saintly. But +in the ordinary business of life the large humanity of the man gave him +a readier title to the hearts of his people than their knowledge of the +underlying saintliness of his character. + +"Whisky?" he said, as Gortre asked him to take some. "No, thanks. +Teetotaler for sake of example, always have been--and don't like the +stuff either, never did. But I'll have some coffee and some bread and +butter, if you've got it, and some of those oranges I see there. Forgot +to lunch and had no time to dine!" + +He began ravenously upon the oranges and with little further preamble +plunged at once into the business of the parish. To emphasise a point, +he flung a piece of orange peel savagely into the fire now and again. + +"Our congregation," he said, "is peculiar to the church. You'll realise +that when you get among them. I don't suppose in the whole of London +there is a more difficult class of people to reach than our own. In the +first place, it's a _young_ congregation, speaking generally. 'Good,' +you'll say; 'ductible material, plenty of enthusiasm to work on.' Not a +bit of it. Most of the men are engaged in the City as clerks upon a +small wage. They are mentally rather "small" men. Their lives are hard +and monotonous, their outlook upon life petty and vulgar. The lowest and +the highest classes are far easier to get at because they are +temperamentally more alike. The anarchists have some right on their side +when they condemn the _bourgeoisie_! It's difficult to show a small +brain a big thing. _Our_ difficulty is to explain the stupendous truths +of Christianity to flabby and inert, machine-like fellows. When we _do_ +get hold of them, the very monotony of their lives makes religion a +more valuable thing to them. But the temptations of this class are +terribly strong, living alone in lodgings as they do. The cheap +music-hall and bar attract them; dissipation forms their society. Their +views of women are taken from their association with the girls of the +streets and the theatres. As they have no settled place in society, they +are horribly afraid of ridicule. They are a far more difficult lot than +their colleagues who live in the suburbs and have chances for healthier +recreations. + +"Then much of our work lies among women who seem irretrievably lost, +and, I fear, very often are so. The Bloomsbury district is honeycombed +with well-conducted dens of impurity. The women of a certain class have +fixed upon the parish as their home. I don't mean the starving +prostitute that one meets in the East End, I mean the fairly prosperous, +utterly vicious, lazy women. You will meet with horrors of vice, a +marvellous and stony indifference, in the course of your work. To reach +some of these well-dressed, well-fed, well-housed girls, to show them +the spiritual and even the economic and material end of their lives, +requires almost superhuman powers. If an angel came some of them would +not believe. And in the great and luxurious buildings of flats which +have sprung up in all the squares, the well-known London +_demi-mondaines_--people who dance upon the stage and whose pictures +glare upon one from every hoarding--have made their homes and constantly +parade before the eyes of others the wealth which is the reward of lust. + +"This is a wicked part of London, Gortre. And yet, day by day, in our +beautiful church, where the Eucharist is celebrated and prayers go up +unceasingly, we have evidences that our work is acceptable and that the +Power is with us. Magdalen still comes with her jewels and her tears of +repentance. I ask and beg of you to remember certain things--keep them +always before your eyes--during your ministry among us. Whenever a man +or woman comes to you, either at confession or otherwise, and tells of +incredible sins, welcome the very slightest movement towards the light. +Cultivate an all-embracing sympathy. I firmly believe that more souls +have been lost by a repellent manner on the part of a priest, or an +apparent lack of understanding, than any one has any idea of. Remember +that when a thoroughly evil and warped nature has made a great effort +and laid its spiritual case before a priest, it expects in its inner +consciousness a pat on the back for its new efforts. It wants +commendation. One _must_ fight warily, with a thorough psychological +knowledge, with a broad humanity. To take even the slightest signs of +repentance as a matter of course, to throw any doubt upon its reality or +permanence, is to accept an awful responsibility. Err rather on the side +of sentiment. Who are we to judge?" + +Gortre had listened with deep attention to Father Ripon's earnest words. +He began to realise more clearly the difficulties of his new life. And +yet the obstacles did not daunt him. They seemed rather a trumpet note +for battle. Ripon's enthusiasm was contagious; he felt the exhilaration +of the tried soldier at a coming contest. + +"One more thing," said the vicar. "In all your teaching and preaching +hammer away at the great central fact of the Incarnation. No system of +morals will reach these people--however plausible, however pure--unless +you constantly bring the supernatural side of religion before them. +Preach the Incarnation day in, day out. Don't, like so many men, regard +it as an accepted fact merely, using it as a postulate on which to found +a scheme of conduct. Once get the central truth of all into the hearts +of a congregation, and then all else will follow. Now, good-night. I've +kept you late, but I wished to have a talk with you. A good deal will +devolve upon you. I have especially arranged that you should not live in +the Clergy House with Stokes, Carr, and myself. I would rather that your +environment should be more secular. Stokes and Carr are perhaps a little +too priestly, too "professional" in manner, if you understand what I am +driving at. Keep yourself from that. If you go among the young men, see +them at home, smoke with them, and take what they offer you in the way +of refreshment. Well, good-bye. You are to preach at Sunday Evensongs +you know. Sir Michael Manichoe, our patron, will be there, and there +will be a large congregation." + +He turned, said good-night with sudden abruptness, as if he had been +lingering too long and was displeased with himself, and hurried away. It +was his usual manner of farewell. + +A few minutes afterwards Gortre went to bed. He found it difficult to +believe that he had walked down the Faubourg de la Barre that morning. +It had been a crowded day. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE RESURRECTION SERMON + + +Sir Michael Manichoe was the great help and standby of St. Mary's. His +father had been a wealthy banker in Rome, and a Jew. The son, who had +enormously increased his inherited wealth, was an early convert to +Christianity during his Oxford days in England. He was the Conservative +member for a division in Lincolnshire, where his great country house was +situated, and had become a pillar of the Church and State in England. In +the House of Commons he presented the somewhat curious spectacle of a +Jew by birth leading the moderate "Catholic" party. He was the great +antagonist of Constantine Schuabe, and with equal wealth and position, +though Schuabe was by far the more brilliant of the two men, he devoted +all his energies to the opposition of the secular and agnostic +influences of his political rival. + +Every Sunday during the session, when he was in London, Sir Michael +drove to St. Mary's for both morning and evening service. He was church +warden, and intimately concerned in all the parochial business, while +his purse was always open at Father Ripon's request. + +Gortre had been introduced to Sir Michael during the week, and he knew +the great man purposed attending to hear his first sermon at St. Mary's +on the Sunday evening. + +He prepared his discourse with extreme care. A natural wish to make a +good first impression animated him; but, as he sat late on the Saturday +night, finally arranging his notes, he began to be conscious of new and +surprising thoughts about the coming event. Earlier in the evening he +had been talking to Hands, but the archæologist had gone to bed and left +him alone. + +The day had been a gloomy one. A black pall of fog fell over London at +dawn, and had remained all day, almost choking him as he said evensong +in the almost empty church. + +All day long he had felt strangely overweighted and depressed. A chance +paragraph in an evening paper, stating that Mr. Schuabe, M.P., had +returned from a short Continental trip, started an uneasy and gloomy +train of thought. The memory of the terrible night at Walktown recurred +to him with a horrible sense of unreality, the picture blurred somewhat, +as if the fingers of the disease which had struck him down had already +been pressing on his brain when he had been alone with the millionaire. +Much of what he remembered of that dread interview must have been +delusion. And yet in all other matters he was sane and unprejudiced +enough. Many times he had met and argued with unbelievers. They had +saddened him, but no more. Why was it that this man, notorious atheist +as he was, filled him with a shuddering fear, a horror for which he had +no name? + +Then also, what had been the significance of the incident at Dieppe--its +true significance? Sir Robert Llwellyn had also inspired him with a +feeling of utter loathing and abhorrence, though perhaps in a less +degree. There was the sudden glimpse of Schuabe's signature on the +letter. What was the connection between the two men? How could the +Antichristian be in friendly communion with the greatest Higher Critic +of the time? + +He recalled an even more sinister occurrence, or so it had seemed to +him. Two days after his first introduction to Llwellyn and the dinner +at the Pannier d'Or he had seen him enter the Paris train _with Schuabe_ +himself, who had just arrived from England. He had said nothing of the +incident to Mr. Byars or Helena. They would have regarded it as ordinary +enough. They knew nothing of what had passed between him and Schuabe. +The deliberate words of Sir Robert at the restaurant recurred to him +again and again, taking possession of his brain and ousting all other +thoughts. What new discoveries was the Professor hinting at? + +What did the whole obsession of his brain mean? + +Curiously enough, he felt certain that these thoughts were in no way +heralds of a new attack of brain fever. He knew this for a certainty. It +seemed as if the persistent whisperings within him were rather the +results of some spiritual message, as if the unseen agency which +prompted them had some definite end and purpose in view. + +The more he prayed the stronger his premonitions became; added force was +given to them, as if they were the direct causes of his supplications. + +It almost seemed that God was speaking to him. + +He had questioned Hands cautiously, trying to learn if any new and +important facts bearing upon Biblical history were indeed likely to be +discovered in the near future. + +But the answer did not amount to very much. The new and extensive +excavations, under the permission of the lately granted firman from the +Turkish Government, were only just beginning. The real work was to +commence when Hands had finished his work in London and had returned to +take charge of the operations. + +Of course, Hands had said there were possibilities of discovery of +first-class importance, but he doubted it. The locality of Golgotha and +the Holy Sepulchre was already established, in Hands's opinion. He had +but little doubt of the authenticity of the established sites. +Llwellyn's theories he scouted altogether, while agreeing with him in +his negation of the Gordon Tomb. + +So there had been very little from Hands that was in any way +satisfactory to Basil. + +But as he sat in the great silence of the night and read over the heads +of the sermon a great sense of comfort came to him. He felt a mysterious +sense of power, not merely because he knew the work was good, but +something beyond that. He was conscious that for some reason or other +that particular sermon which he was about to preach was one on which +much depended. He could not say how or why he knew the thing was fraught +with destiny to himself or others. He only knew it. + +Many years afterwards he remembered that quiet night, and the help which +seemed to come to him suddenly, a renewed hope and confidence after the +mental misery of the day. + +When he looked back on the terrible and stupendous events in which he +had played so prominent a part, he was able to see clearly the chain of +events, and to place his experience about what he always afterwards +called his "Resurrection sermon" in their proper sequence. + +Looking back through the years, he saw that a more than mortal power was +guiding him towards the fulfilment of a Divine purpose. + +But that night as he said his prayers before going to sleep he only felt +a sweet security as he glanced at the MS. on the chair by his bedside. + +The future was not yet revealed to him. God spared him the torture of +foreknowledge. + + * * * * * + +The pulpit was high above the heads of the people, much higher than is +usual, a box of stone set in the great arch of the chancel. + +As Gortre stood for a moment, after the prayer, he kissed the stole and +placed it, as a yoke, upon his shoulders. He looked down the great +building and saw the hundreds of watchful, expectant faces, with an +uplifting sense of power. He felt as if he were a mouthpiece of strange, +unseen forces. The air seemed full of wings. + +For a moment the preacher paused and sent a keen glance over the +congregation below. He saw Sir Michael Manichoe, dark, aquiline, +Semitic, sitting in his front pew. A few seats behind him, with a sudden +throb of surprise but nothing else, the calm and evil beauty of +Constantine Schuabe's face looked up at him. + +The strangeness of the appearance and the shock of it had at that moment +no menace or intimidation for him. Standing there to deliver God's +message, in God's house, his enemy seemed to have no power to throw his +brain into its old fear and tumult. + +Another face, unknown to him, arrested his attention. + +The sexes were not separated for worship in St. Mary's. In the same seat +where Schuabe sat was a woman, dark, handsome, expensively dressed. + +She also was Jewish in appearance, though it was obvious that there was +no connection between her and the millionaire. Her face, as the young +clergyman's eyes rested on it for a second, seemed to be curiously +familiar, as if he saw it every day of his life, but it nevertheless +struck no _personal_ note. + +Gortre began to speak, taking for his text part of a verse from the +Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans--"_Declared to be the Son of God with +power, according to the spirit of holiness, by the resurrection of the +dead._" + +"In this world of to-day," he began calmly, and with a certain +deliberation and precision in his utterance, "what men in general are +hungering after is a positive assurance of actual spiritual agency in +the world. They crave for something to hold by which is outside +themselves, and which cannot have grown out of the inner persuasions of +men. They cannot understand people who tell them that, whether the +events of the Gospels actually passed upon earth or not, they may +fashion their own dispositions all the same, on the supposition that +these events occurred. If I can to-night show that any appearance of the +Risen Lord is attested in the same way as are certain facts commonly +accepted as history, I shall have accomplished as much as I can hope." + +Then, very carefully, Gortre went through the scientific and historical +evidences for the truth of the Resurrection. Gradually, as he marshalled +his proofs and brought forth one after the other, he began, by a sort of +unconscious hypnotism of the eye, to make the seat where Schuabe and the +strange woman sat his objective. + +Many speakers have this automatic habit of addressing one or two persons +as if they were the ear of the whole congregation. It is said that by +such means, even if unconsciously employed, the brain becomes more +concentrated and clearer for the work in hand. + +Slowly the preacher's voice became more resonant and triumphant. To many +of the congregation the overwhelming and stupendous evidences for the +truth of the Gospel narratives which the study of late years has +collected was entirely new. The Higher Criticism, the fact that it is +not only in science that "discoveries" can be made, the excavations in +the East and the newly discovered MSS., with their variations of +reading, the possibility that the lost Aramaic original of St. Matthew's +Gospel may yet be discovered, were all things which came to them for +the first time in their lives. Gortre's words began to open up to them +an entirely new train of thought. Their interest was profoundly +quickened. + +Very few clergymen of middle age are cognisant of the latest theological +thought. Time, money, and lack of education alike prevent them. The +slight mental endowment and very ordinary education which are all that +is absolutely necessary for an ordination candidate, are not realised by +the ordinary member of a church congregation. The mass of the English +clergy to-day are content to leave such questions alone, to do their +duty simply, to impose upon their flock the necessity of "faith," and to +deny the right of individual judgment and speculation. + +They do not realise that the world of their middle age is more educated, +and so more intelligent, than the world of their youth, and that, if the +public intellect is nurtured by the public, those whose duty it is to +keep it within the fold of Christianity must provide it with a food +suited to its development. + +Gortre, in his sermon, had crystallised and boiled down into pregnant +paragraphs, without circumlocution or obscurity, all the brilliant work +of Latham, Westcott, Professor Ramsay, and Homersham Cox. He quoted +Renan's passage from _Les Apôtres_, dealing with the finding of the +empty tomb, and showed the flaws and fallacies in that brilliant piece +of antichristian suggestion. + +As he began to bring his arguments to a close he was conscious that the +people were with him. He could feel the brains around him thinking in +unison; it was almost as if he _heard_ the thoughts of the congregation. +The dark, handsome woman stared straight up at him. Trouble was in her +eyes, an awakened consciousness, and Gortre knew that the truth was +dropping steadily into her mind, and that conviction was unwelcome and +alarming. + +And he felt also the bitter antagonism which was alive and working +behind the impassive face and half-closed eyes of the millionaire below. +It was a silent duel between them. He knew that his words were full of +meaning, _even of conviction_, to the man, and yet he was subjectively +conscious of some _reserve_ of force, some hidden sense of fearful +power, a desperate resolve which he could not overcome. + +His soul wrestled in this dark, mysterious conflict as with a devil, but +could not prevail. + +He finished all his argument, the last of his proofs. There was a hushed +silence in the church. + +Then swiftly, with a voice which trembled with the power that was given +him, he called them to repentance and a new life. _If_, he said, his +words had carried conviction of the truth of Christ's resurrection, of +His divinity, then, believing that, there was but one course open to +them all. For to know the truth, and to believe it, and to continue in +indifference, was to kill the soul. + +It was over. Father Ripon had pronounced the blessing, the great organ +was thundering out the requiem of another Sunday, and Sir Michael was +shaking hands warmly with Basil in the vestry. + +Gortre was tired and shaken by the long, nervous strain, but the evident +pleasure of Father Ripon and Sir Michael, the knowledge that he had +acquitted himself well, was comforting and sustaining. + +He walked home, down quiet Holborn, curiously dead without the traffic +of a week day and the lights of the shop fronts, and not reanimated by +the strolling pedestrians, young people of the lower classes from the +East End, who thronged it. + +Lincoln's Inn was wonderfully soothing and quiet as his footsteps echoed +in the old quadrangle. After a lonely, tranquil supper--Hands was at a +dinner-party somewhere in Mayfair and Spence was at the office of _The +Daily Wire_ preparing for Monday's paper--he wheeled a small +writing-desk up to the fireside and began a long letter of news and +thankfulness to Helena. + +He pictured the pleasant dining-room at Walktown, the Sunday night's +supper,--an institution at the Vicarage after the labours of the busiest +day in the week,--with a guest or two perhaps. + +He knew they would be thinking of him, as he of them, and pictured the +love-light in his lady's sweet, calm eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +"NEITHER DO I CONDEMN THEE" + + +Autumn came to London, a warm, lingering season. There was a hint of the +South in the atmosphere of town. All business moved with languor; there +was more enjoyment in life as people went and came through the streets +under so ripe and genial a sun. + +Gortre had settled down to steady, regular work. At no time before had a +routine been so pleasant to him. His days were full of work, which, hard +as it was, came to him with far more appeal than his duties at Walktown. +Nothing ever stagnated here, at the very hub and centre of things. + +The splendid energy and force of Father Ripon, the magnificent +unconvention of his methods, animated his staff to constant and +unflagging exertions. + +Gortre felt that he was suddenly "grown up," that his life before had +been spent in futile playtime compared to the present. + +One central fact in St. Mary's parish held all the great organisation +together. This was the daily services in the great church. Priests, +deacons, sisters of mercy, school teachers, and lay helpers all drew +their strength and inspiration from this source. The daily Eucharist, +matins, evensong, were both a stimulus and stimulant of enormous power. + +Church brought the mysteries in which they lived, moved, and had their +being into intimate relation with every circumstance of daily life. + +The extraordinary thing, which many of Father Ripon's staff were almost +unable to understand, was that more people did not avail themselves of +what they regarded--viewing the thing from a standpoint of personal +experience--such helpful opportunities. + +"They are always coming to me," Father Ripon had said on one occasion, +"and complaining that they find such a tremendous difficulty in leading +a holy life--say that the worldly surroundings and so forth kill their +good impulses--and yet they _won't_ come to church. People are such +fools! My young men imagine that they can become good Christians by a +sort of sudden magic--a low beast on Saturday night, the twentieth of +August, and, after a nerve storm in church and a few tears in the +vestry, a saint for evermore! And then when they get drunk or do +something beastly the next week, they rail against the Christian Faith +because it isn't a sort of spiritual hand cuffs! And yet if you told +them you could manage a bank after merely experience in a shipping +office, they would see the absurdity of that at once. Donkeys!" + +This with a genial smile of tenderness and compassion, for this +Whirlwind in a Cassock loved his flock. + +So from the very first Basil had found his life congenial. Privately he +blessed his good fortune in living in Lincoln's Inn with Spence. On the +nights when the journalist was free from the office, and not otherwise +engaged, the two men sat late with pipes and coffee, enjoying that +vigorous communion of two keen, young, and virile brains which is one of +the truly stimulating pleasures of life. + +Gortre admired Spence greatly for some of his qualities. His intellect +was, of course, first class--his high position on the great daily paper +guaranteed that. His reading and sympathies were wide. Moreover, the +clergyman found a great refreshment in the fact that, in an age of +indifference, at a time when the best intellects of younger London life +were professedly agnostic, Harold Spence was an avowed Christian and +Churchman. As Gortre got to know him better, when the silence and +detachment of midnight in the old Inn broke down reticence, he realised +with a sense of thankfulness, and sometimes of fear also, how a thorough +belief in religion kept the writer straight and captain of his own soul. + +For the man was a creature of strong passions and wayward desires. He +had not always been the clean gentleman of the present. As is so often +the case with a refined and cultured temperament, he had a dark and ugly +side to his nature. The coarse vices of the blood called to him long and +often with their hollow siren voices. Evil came to him with swift +invitation and cunning allurement. He had hinted to Basil of days of sin +and secret shame. And now, very soberly and without any emotion, he +clung to Christ for help. + +And he had conquered. + +This was ever a glorious fact to Basil, another miracle in those +thousands of daily miracles which were happening all around him. But his +fear for Harold came from his realisation of his friend's exact +spiritual grip. Spence's Christianity was rather too _utilitarian_ for +safety. Perhaps the deep inward conviction was weak. It seemed sometimes +as if it were a barren, thorny thing--too much fetish, too much a return +for benefits received, a sort of half-conscious bargain. He often prayed +long that nothing should ever occur to shake Spence's belief; for he +felt, if that should happen, the disaster would prove irreparable. A +dammed river is a dangerous thing. + +But he kept all these thoughts locked in his heart, and never spoke of +them to Harold. + +Since the evening of his first sermon he had never seen Schuabe again. +Now and then the thought of him passed through his brain, and his mental +sight seemed obscured for a moment, as though great wings hid the sun +from him. But since the silent duel in the church, the curious and +malign influence of the millionaire had waned. It was prominent no +longer, and when it troubled him it did so without power and force. Fine +health, the tonic of constant work, the armour of continual prayer, had +their way and were able to banish much of what he now looked back on as +morbidity, sinister though it had been. + +Nevertheless, one thing often reminded him of that night. The dark, +Jewish-looking lady he had seen sitting in the same pew with Schuabe +often came to church on Sunday nights when he was preaching. The bold +and insolently beautiful face looked up at him with steady interest. The +fierce regard had something passionate and yet wistful in it. + +Sometimes Basil found himself preaching almost directly to the face and +soul of the unknown woman. There was an understanding between them. He +knew it; he felt it most certainly. + +Sometimes she would remain in her seat after the mass of the +congregation had shuffled away into the night. She did not pray, but sat +still, with her musing eyes fixed on the huge ten-foot crucifix that +swung down from the chancel arch. + +Once, as he passed the pew on the way to baptise the child of a poor +woman of the streets--brought in furtively after the Sunday +evensong--she made a movement as if to speak to him. He had waited in +expectation for a moment, but she remained still, and he passed on to +the font, with its sad cluster of outcasts, its dim gas-jets, and the +tiny child of shame with its thin cry of distress. + +He was asking the tremendous question-- + + "_Dost thou, in the name of this child, renounce the devil and all + his works, the vain pomp and glory of the world, with all covetous + desires of the same, and the carnal desires of the flesh, so that + thou wilt not follow nor be led by them?_" + +when he saw that the unknown woman was standing by within the shadow of +a pillar. A gleam of yellow light fell through the dark on her rich +dress, her eye glittered behind her white veil. He thought there was a +tear in it. But when he was saying the exhortation he saw that the tall, +silent figure had departed. + +He often wondered who the woman was,--if he should ever know her. + +Something told him that she wanted help. Something assured him that he +should some day give it to her. + +And beyond this there was an unexplained conviction within him that the +stranger was in some way concerned and bound up in the part he was to +play in life. + +Long ago he had realised that it was idle to deny the interference of +supernatural personalities in human life. Accepting the Incarnation, he +accepted the Communion of Saints. And he was always conscious of hidden +powers moulding, directing him. + +The episode of the cigarettes happened in this way. + +Stokes, one of Gortre's fellow-curates, came to supper one night in +Lincoln's Inn. + +Spence was there also, as it was one of his free nights. + +About ten o'clock supper was over and they proposed to have a little +music. Stokes was a fine pianist, and he had brought some of the +nocturnes and ballads of Chopin with him, to try on the little +black-cased piano which stood at an obtuse angle with the end of the +large sitting-room. + +"Will you smoke, Stokes?" Spence said. + +"Thank you, I'll have a cigarette," the young man replied. "I can't +stand cigars, and I've left my pipe at the Clergy House." + +They looked for cigarettes in the silver box lined with cedar which +stood on the mantel-shelf, but some one had smoked them all and the box +was empty. + +"Never mind," Spence said; "I've been meaning to run out and get a late +_Westminster_ and I'll buy some cigarettes, too. There's a shop at the +Holborn end of the Lane, next to the shop where the oysters come from, +and it won't be shut yet." + +In a few minutes he came back with several packets of cigarettes in his +hand. "I've brought Virginian," he said; "I know you can't stand +Egyptian, none of us can, and if these are cheap, they're good, too." + +Till eleven o'clock Stokes played to them--Chopin's wild music of +melancholy and fire--and as the hour struck he went home. + +Gortre and Spence sat and talked casually after he had gone, about the +music they had heard, the cartoon in the evening paper, anything that +came. + +Basil had not been smoking during the evening. He had been too intent +upon the nocturnes, and now he felt a want of tobacco. One of the +packets of cigarettes lay by him on the table. He pulled up the flaps +and took one. Without thinking what he was doing he drew a little +photograph, highly finished and very clear, from the tiny cardboard +case. + +He glanced at it casually. + +The thing was one of those pictures of burlesque actresses which are +given away with this kind of tobacco. A tall girl with short skirts and +a large picture hat was shown in a coquettish attitude that was meant to +be full of invitation. + +Basil looked at it steadily with a curious expression on his face. Then +he took a large reading-glass from the table and examined it again, +magnifying it to many times its original size. + +He scrutinised it with great care. It was the portrait of the strange +girl who came to St. Mary's. + +Basil had told Spence of this woman, and now he passed the photograph on +to him. + +"Harold, that is the girl who comes to church and looks so unhappy. She +is an actress, of course. The name is underneath--Miss Gertrude Hunt. +Who is Miss Gertrude Hunt?" + +Spence took the thing. "How very queer!" he said, "to find your unknown +like this. Gertrude Hunt? Why, she is a well-known musical comedy girl, +sings and dances at the Regent, you know. There are all the usual +stories about the lady, but possibly they are all lies. I'm sure I don't +know. I've chucked that sort of society long ago. Are you sure it's the +same person?" + +"Oh, quite sure! Of course, this shows the girl in a different dress and +so on, but it's she without a doubt. I am glad she comes to church. It +is not what one expects from what one hears of that class of woman, and +it's not what one generally finds in the parish." + +He sighed, thinking of the many chilling experiences of the last few +months in the vice-haunted streets and squares of Bloomsbury. + +"Well," said Spence, "experiments with that type are generally failures, +and sometimes dangerous to the experimenter. You remember Anatole +France's _Thais_? But this damsel is no Thais certainly, and you aren't +a bit like Paphuntius. I hope you will be able to do some good. +Personally, anything of the sort would be quite impossible to me. +Good-night, old man. I'm going to turn in. I've a hard day's work +to-morrow. Sleep well." + +He went out of the room with a yawn. + +When he was left alone, with his little mystery solved in so commonplace +a fashion, Basil was conscious of a curious disappointment. It was an +anti-climax. + +He had no narrow objection to the theatre. Now and then he had been to +see famous actors in great plays. His occasional visits to the theatres +of Irving or Wyndham had given him pleasure, nevertheless he had always +felt a slight instinctive dislike to the trade of a mime. All voluntary +sacrifices of personal dignity affect the average English temperament in +this way more or less. However much the apologists of the stage may cry +"art" or "beneficial influence," your British thinker is not convinced +that there is anything very worthy in painting the face and making the +body a public show for a wage. And there is sometimes a kind of wonder +in the heart of a sincere Christian who attends a theatre as he +remembers that the body is the Temple of the Holy Spirit. + +Still Basil was tolerant enough. But this case which had thrust itself +before him was quite different. He knew that the burlesque, the modern +music play, made, first and foremost, a frank appeal to the senses. Its +hopeless vulgarity and coarseness of sentiment, its entire lack of +appeal to anything that was not debased and materialistic, were ordinary +indisputable facts of every-day life. And so his lady of evensong was a +high-priestess of nothing better than this cult of froth and gaudy +sensuality. More than all others, his experiences of late had taught him +that women of this class seemed to be very nearly soulless. Their souls +had dissolved in champagne, their consciences were burnt up by the +feverish excitement and pleasure of their lives. They sold themselves +for luxury and the adulation of coarse men. + +His very chagrin made him bitter and contemptuous more than his wont. + +Then his eye lit upon a photogravure hung upon the opposite wall. It +was the reproduction of a quaint, decorative, stilted picture by an +artist of the early Umbrian school, and represented St. Mary Magdalene. + +The coincidence checked his contemptuous thoughts. + +He began to reconstruct the scene in his brain, a favourite and +profitable exercise of his, using his knowledge and study of the old dim +times to animate the picture and make it vivid. + +They were all resting, or rather lying, around the table, the body +resting on the couch, the feet turned away from the table in the +direction of the wall, while the left elbow rested on the table. + +And then, from the open courtyard, up the verandah step, perhaps through +an antechamber, and by the open door, passed the figure of a woman into +the festive reception-room and dining-hall. How had she gained access? +How incongruous her figure must have been there! In those days the +Jewish prejudice against any conversation with women--even those of the +most lofty character--was extreme. + +The shadow of her form must have fallen on all who sat at meat. But no +one spoke, nor did she heed any but One only. + +The woman had brought with her an _alabastron_ of perfume. It was a +flask of precious _foliatum_, probably, which women wore round the neck, +and which hung over the breast. The woman stood behind Him at His feet, +and as she bowed reverently a shower of tears, like sudden summer rain, +"bedewed" His feet. + +Basil went through the whole scene until the final, "Go _into_ peace" +not go _in_ peace, as the logical dogmatics would have had it. + +And so she, the first who had come to Him for spiritual healing, went +out into the better light, and into the eternal peace of the Kingdom of +Heaven. + +Basil tore up the vulgar little photograph and forgot that aspect of the +dancer. He remembered rather the dim figure by the font. + +There was a sudden furious knocking on the outer door of the chambers, +and he went to open it. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +POWERS OF GOOD AND EVIL + + +Gortre felt certain that his vicar stood without. His knocking was full +of militant Christianity. The tumultuous energy of the man without +communicated its own stir and disturbance to Basil's brain by the most +subtle of all forms of telepathy--that "telepathy" which, in a few more +years, will have its definite recipes and formulæ. + +Father Ripon refused to live by any standard of measured time. He +refused--so he said--to believe that a wretched little clock really knew +what the great golden sun was doing. He had found it impossible to call +on Gortre before this late hour, and he came regardless of it now. He +wished to see Basil, and he came now with a supreme and simple +carelessness of conventional time. + +As usual, the worthy man was hungry, and the _débris_ of supper on the +table reminded him of that. He sat down at once and began to eat +rapidly, telling his story between mouthfuls. + +"I bring you news of a famous opportunity," he said. "If you go to work +in the right way you may win a soul. It's a poor _demi-mondaine_ +creature, a dancer at the theatres. She came to me in her brougham, her +furs, and finery, and had a chat in my study. I gave her tea and a +cigarette--you know I always keep some cigarettes for the choir-men or +teachers when they call. All these women smoke. It's a great thing to +treat these people with understanding and knowledge, Gortre. Don't +'come the priest' over them, as a coster said to me last week. When they +realise that one is a man, _then_ they are fifty times more willing to +allow the other and more important thing. + +"Well, this poor girl told me all about it, the same very sordid story +one is always hearing. She is a favourite burlesque actress, and she +lives very expensively in those gorgeous new flats--Bloomsbury Court. +Some wealthy scoundrel pays for it all. A man 'in a very high position,' +as she said with a pathetic little touch of pride which made me want to +weep. Oh, my dear fellow, if the world only knew what I know! Great and +honoured names in the senate, the forum, the Court, unsullied before the +eyes of men. And then these hideous establishments and secret ties! This +is a wicked city. The deadly lusts which war against the soul are great, +powerful, and militant all around us. + +"This poor woman has been coming regularly to church on Sundays. The +first time was when you preached your capital sermon on the +Resurrection. Now, she is dying from a slow complaint. She will live a +year or two, the doctors think, and that is all. It does not prevent her +from living her ordinary life, but it will strike her down suddenly some +day. + +"She has expressed a wish to see you to talk things over with you. She +thinks you can help her. Go to her and save her. We _must_." + +He handed Gortre a visiting-card, on which he saw the name of Gertrude +Hunt with a curious lack of surprise. + +"Well, I must be off," said Father Ripon, rising from the table with a +large hunk of bread and cheese in one hand. + +"Go and see this poor woman to-morrow evening. She tells me she isn't +acting for a week or two,--rehearsing some new play. Isn't it wonderful +to think of the things that are going on every day? Just think of the +Holy Spirit pouring into this sinning creature's heart, catching her in +the middle of her champagne and frivolity, and just turning her, almost +_compelling_ her towards Christ! And men like John Morley or Constantine +Schuabe say there is no truth in Christianity!--I'll take one of these +apples--poor fools! Now I must go and write my sermon." + +He was gone in a clattering rush. + +For a long time Basil sat thinking. The mysterious links of some great +chain were being revealed inch by inch. Wonderful as these circumstances +already seemed to him, he felt sure there was far more behind them than +he knew as yet. There was some unseen tie, some influence that drew his +thoughts ever more and more towards the library in the palace at +Manchester. + + * * * * * + +The next evening a maid showed Gortre into the hall of the flat of +Bloomsbury Court Mansions, eyeing him curiously as she did so. + +He passed down the richly carpeted passage with a quickening of all his +pulses, noticing the Moorish lamps of copper studded with turquoise +which threw a dim crimson light over everything, marking the +ostentatious luxury of the place with wonder. + +Gertrude Hunt lay back in a low arm-chair. She was dressed in a long, +dull red teagown of cashmere, with a broad white band round the neck +opening of white Indian needlework, embroidered with dark green leaves. + +Her face was pale and tired. + +Despite the general warmth of the time, a fire burnt steadily on the +hearth. + +Gortre sat down at her invitation, and they fell into a desultory +conversation. He waited for her to open on the real subjects that had +brought him there. + +He watched the tired, handsome face. Coarse it certainly was, in +expression rather than feature, but that very coarseness gave it power. +This woman, who lived the life of a doll, had character. One saw that. +Perhaps, he thought, as he looked at her, that the very eagerness and +greed for pleasure marked in her face, the passionate determination to +tear the heart and core out of life, might still be directed to purer +and nobler ends. + +Then she began to talk to him quite frankly, and with no disguise or +slurring over the facts of her life. + +"I'm sick and tired of it all, Mr. Gortre," she said bitterly. "You +can't know what it means a bit--lucky for you. Imagine spending all your +life in a room painted bright yellow, eating nothing but chocolate +creams, with a band playing comic songs for ever and ever. And even then +you won't get it." + +Basil shuddered. There was something so poignant and forceful in her +words that they hurt, stung like a whip-lash. He was being brought into +terrible contact not only with sin and the satiety of sin, but with its +results. The hideous staleness and torture of it all appalled him as he +looked at this human personification of it in the crimson gown. + +"That's how it was at first," she continued. "I knew there was something +more than this in life, though. I could read it in people's faces. So I +came to the service at your church one Sunday evening. I'd never made +fun of religion and all that at any time. I simply couldn't believe it, +that was all. Then I heard you preach on the Resurrection. I heard all +the proofs for the first time. Of course, I could see there wasn't any +doubt about the matter at all. Then, curiously, directly I began to +_believe_ in it I began to hate the way I was going on, so I went to +Father Ripon, who was very nice, and he said you'd call." + +"I quite understand you, Miss Hunt," said Gortre. "That's the beauty of +faith. When once you believe, then you've _got_ to change. It's a great +pity, a very great pity, that clergymen don't attempt to explain things +more than they do. If one isn't built in a certain way, I can quite +understand and sympathise with any one who isn't able to take a parson's +mere statement on trust, so to speak. But that's beside the way. _You_ +believe at any rate. And now what are you going to do? I'm here to help +you in every possible way. I want to hear your views, just as you have +thought them out." + +"I like that," she said. "That's practical and sensible. I've never +cared very much for sentimental ways of looking at things. You know I +can't live very long. I've got enough to live quietly on for some years, +put away in a bank, money I've made acting. I haven't spent a penny of +my salary for years--I've made the men pay for everything. I shall go +quietly away to the country and be alone with my thoughts, close to a +little quiet church. You'll find a place for me, won't you? That's what +I want to do. But there's something in the way, and a big something, +too." + +"I'm here to help that," said Basil. + +"It's Bob," she answered. "The man that keeps me. I'm afraid of him. +He's been away for months, out of England, but he's coming back at once. +To-morrow as likely as not, he couldn't say to a day. I had a letter +from Brindisi last week. He's been to Palestine, _via_ Alexandria." + +A quick premonition took hold of the young man. + +"Who is he?" he asked. + +She took a photograph from the mantel-shelf and gave it to him. It was +one of the Stereoscopic Company's series of "celebrities." Under the +portrait was printed--"Sir Robert Llwellyn." + +Gortre started violently. + +"I know him," he said thickly. "I felt when I met him--What does it all +mean?" + +He dropped his head into his hands, filled with the old, nameless, +unreasoning fear. + +She looked steadily at him, wondering at his manner. + +There was a tense silence for a time. + +In the silence suddenly they heard a sound, clear and distinct. A key +was being inserted into the door of the flat. + +They waited breathlessly. Gertrude Hunt grew very white. Without any +words from her, Basil knew whose fingers were even now upon the handle +of the door. + +Llwellyn entered. His huge form was dressed in a light grey suit and he +carried a straw hat in his hand. His face was burned a deep brown. + +He stopped suddenly as he saw Gortre and an ugly look flashed out on the +sensual, intellectual face. Some swift intuition seemed to give him the +key of the situation or something near it. + +"The curate of Dieppe!" he said in a cold, mirthless voice. "And what, +Mr. Gortre, may I ask, are you doing here?" + +"Miss Hunt has asked me to come and see her," answered Basil. + +"Consoling yourself with the Church, Gertie, while your proprietor is +away?" Llwellyn said with a sneer. + +Then his manner changed suddenly. + +He turned to Gortre. "Now then, my man," he snarled, "get out of this +place at once. You may not know that I pay the rent and other expenses +of this establishment. It is _mine_. I know all about you. Your +reputation has reached me from sources you have little idea of. And I +saw you at Dieppe. I don't propose to resume our acquaintance in London; +kindly go at once." + +Basil looked at the woman. He saw pleading, a terrible entreaty in her +eyes. If he left her now, the power of this man, his strength of will, +might drag her back for ever into hell. He could see the girl regarded +him with terror. There was a great surprise in her face also. The man +seemed so strong and purposeful. Even Gortre remembered that he had worn +no such indefinable air of confidence and triumph six months ago in +France. + +"Miss Hunt wants me to stay, sir," he answered quietly, "and so I'm +going to stay. But perhaps you had better be given an explanation at +once. Miss Hunt is going to leave you to-morrow. She will never see you +again." + +"And may I ask," the big man answered, "why you have interfered in my +private affairs and why you _think_--for she is going to do nothing of +the sort--Miss Hunt is going from here?" + +"Simply because the Holy Spirit wills it so," said the clergyman. + +Llwellyn looked steadily at him and then at the woman. + +Something he saw in their faces told him the truth. + +He laughed shortly. "Let me tell you," he said in a voice which quivered +with ugly passion, "that in a short time all meddling priests will lose +their power over the minds of others for ever. Your Christ, your God, +the pale dreamer of the East, shall be revealed to you and all men at +last!" + +His manner had changed once more. Fierce as it was, there was an intense +_meaning_ and power in it. He spoke as one having authority, with also a +concentrated hate in his words, so real and bitter that it gave them a +certain fineness. + +"Yes!" he continued, lifting his arm with a sudden gesture: + + "'Far hence He lies + In the lorn Syrian town, + And on His grave, with shining eyes, + The Syrian stars look down.'" + +Gortre answered him: + +"You lie and you know you lie! and by the powers given to me I'll tell +you so from God Himself. Christ is risen! And as the day follows the +night so the Spirit of God remains upon the earth God once visited, and +works upon the hearts of men." + +"Are you going?" said Llwellyn, stepping towards Gortre. + +"No," the young man answered in sharp, angry tones. "It's you that are +going, Sir Robert. You know as well as I do that I can do exactly as I +like with you if it comes to force. And really I am not at all +disinclined to do so, despite my parson's coat. Then you will have your +remedy, you know. The newly made knight fighting a clergyman under such +very curious circumstances! If this thing is to become open talk, then +let us have it so. You can do me no harm. I came here at my vicar's +request and Miss Hunt's. You know best if you can stand a scandal of +this kind in your position. Now I'm going to use my last argument. Are +you going at once or shall I knock you down and kick you out?" + +He could not help a note of exultation in his voice, try as he would. He +was still a young man, full of power and virility. His life had brought +no trace of effeminacy with it. And as he saw this splendid lying +intellect, the slave of evil, and rejoicing in it, as he heard the +arrogant denial of Christ's Godhead coming sonorously from those +polluted lips, a wild longing flared up in him. Like a sudden flame, +the impulse to strike a clean, hard blow fired all his blood. The old +Oxford days of athletic triumphs on field, flood, and river came back to +him. + +He measured the man scientifically with his eyes, judging his distance, +alert to strike. + +But Llwellyn made no further movement of aggression and uttered no word +of menace. He did not seem in the least afraid of Gortre or in any way +intimidated by him. Indeed, he laughed, a laugh which was very hollow, +mirthless, and cold. + +"Ah, my boy," he said, "I have a worse harm to work you than you can +dream of yet. You will remember me some day. You can't frighten me now. +I will go. I want no scandal. Good-bye, Gertrude. You also will remember +and regret some day. Good-bye." + +He went noiselessly out of the room, still with the strange flickering +smile of prescience and fate upon his evil face. + +When he had gone, Gertrude fell into a passion of weeping. The strain +had been too great. Basil comforted her as well as he could, and before +he went promised to see Father Ripon that night and make arrangements +that she should quietly disappear the next day to some distant +undiscoverable haven. + +Then he also went out into the night, through the silent squares of +sleeping houses towards the Clergy House of St. Mary's. Once more his +nerves were unstrung and the old fears and the sense of +waiting--Damocles-like for some blow to fall--poured over him. + + * * * * * + +Sir Robert walked swiftly to Oxford Street, where he found a cab. He +ordered the man to drive him to the Sheridan Club. On the way he stopped +at Charing Cross Station and ordered his luggage to be sent home at +once to his house in Upper Berkeley Street. He had only been in London +two or three hours, having crossed from Calais that afternoon. + +He washed when he had arrived at the famous club, and then went +up-stairs to the grill-room for some supper. It was the hour when the +Sheridan is full of the upper Bohemian world. Great actors and +musicians, a judge on his way through town from one watering-place to +another,--for it was now the long vacation,--a good many well-known +journalists, all sorts and conditions of men. All were eminent in their +work, for that was a condition of membership. + +Llwellyn was welcomed on all sides, though men noticed that he seemed +preoccupied. His healthy appearance was commented on, his face browned, +as was supposed, by the sun of the Riviera, his general fitness of +manner and carriage. + +He took supper by himself at a small table, choosing the menu with his +usual extreme care, and more than once summoning the head waiter to +conference. Although he kept glancing at his watch, as if expecting an +arrival, he made a good meal, mixing his own salad of crisp white +lettuce with deliberation. + +He had sent a page early on his arrival to find out if Mr. Constantine +Schuabe was in the club. + +He was standing at the desk in the middle of the room, paying his bill, +when the swing-doors were pushed open and Schuabe entered. He was in +evening dress and carried a light overcoat on his arm. + +Llwellyn gathered up his change and went to meet him. Had there been an +attentive observer to mark the meeting of the two men he would have +perhaps been a little surprised at the fashion of it. + +Although Llwellyn was a six-months' stranger to London, and the meeting +between the two men was obviously prearranged, _neither of the two men +smiled as they shook hands_. Both were expectant of each other, pale, +almost with some apprehension, it might have been fancied; and though +the meeting seemed a relief to each, there was little human kindliness +in it. + +"Come down to the Hotel," said Schuabe; "we can't possibly say anything +here, every room is full." + +They walked out of the club together, two figures of noticeable +distinction, very obviously belonging to the ruling classes of England. +The millionaire's pale and beautiful face was worn and lined. + +"Schuabe seems a bit done up," one man in the hall said to another as +the two friends passed through. + +"Heat, I suppose," answered his companion. "Handsome chap, though; +doesn't seem to care for anything worth having, only books and politics +and that. Wish I'd his money." + +"So do I. But give me Bob Llwellyn of these two. Thoroughly decent sort +_he_ is. Invented two new omelettes and a white soup. Forgets all about +his thing-um-bobs--old Egyptian or something--they knighted him for +directly he leaves the Museum." + +"That's the sort," answered a third man who had joined them. "I don't +object to a Johnny having a brain, and knowing a devil of a lot, if +he'll only jolly well keep it to himself. Bob does that. I'm going +up-stairs to have a turn at poker. You fellows coming?" + +Schuabe and Llwellyn walked to the Cecil, no great distance, saying +little by the way, and presently they were in the millionaire's great +room, with its spacious view over the river. + +The place was beautifully cool and full of flowers. A great block of ice +rose from a copper bowl placed on a pedestal. The carpet had been +covered with light matting of rice straw, brought from Rawal-pindi. All +the windows leading to the balcony were wide open, and the balcony was +covered with striped awning, underneath which the electric lights glowed +on the leaves of Japanese palms, seeming as if they had been cunningly +lacquered a metallic green colour, and on low chairs of white bleached +rushes. + +The two men sat down in the centre of the room on light chairs, with a +small Turkish table and cool drinks between them. + +"You've had all my letters, my last from Jaffa?" asked Sir Robert. + +"Yes, all of them," said Schuabe; "each one was carefully destroyed +after I had read it and memorialised the contents. Let me say now that +you have done your work with extraordinary brilliance. It has been an +intellectual pleasure of a high order to follow your proceedings and +know your plans. There is not another man in the world who could do what +you have done. Everything seems guarded against, all is secure." + +"You are right, Schuabe," said Llwellyn, in a matter-of-fact voice. "You +bade me make a certain thing _possible_. You paid me proportionately to +the terrible risks and for my unrivalled knowledge. Well, you and I are +going to shake the whole world as no two other men have ever done, and +what will be the end?" + +"The end!" cried Schuabe, in a high, strained, unnatural voice. "Who +shall say? What man can know? For ever more the gigantic fable of the +Cross and the Man God will be overthrown. The temples of the world will +fall into the abomination of desolation, and you and I, latter-day +bringers of light--Lucifers!--will kill the pale Nazarene more surely +than the Sanhedrists and soldiers of the past." + +There was a thin madness in his voice. The great figure of the _savant_ +shifted uneasily in its chair. + +"That fellow Gortre, that abominable young priest, has been getting in +my way to-night," he said with a savage curse. "I found him with +Gertrude Hunt, the woman I've spent thousands on! The priests have got +her; she's going to 'lead a new life.' She has 'found Christ'!" + +Schuabe smiled horribly, a cunning smile of unutterable malice. + +"He has crossed my path also," he said; "in some way, by a series of +coincidences, he has become slightly involved in our lives. Leave the +matter to me. So small a thing as the fanaticism of one obscure youth is +nothing to trouble us. I will see to his future. But he shall live to +know what is coming to the world. Then--it is easy enough. He thwarted +_me_ one night also." + +They were silent for a minute or two. Sir Robert lifted a long glass to +his lips. His hand shook with passion, and the ice in the liquid clinked +and tinkled. + +"Everything is now ready," he said at last, glancing at Schuabe. "Every +detail. Ionides knows what he has to do when he receives the signal. He +is a mere tool, and knows and cares nothing of what will happen. He is +to direct the excavators in certain directions, that is all. It will be +three months, so I calculate, after we have set the machinery in motion, +before the blow will fall. It rests with you now to begin." + +"The sign shall go at once," said Schuabe. His eyes glittered, his mouth +worked with emotion. + +"It is a letter with a single sign on it." + +"What is the sign?" + +"A drawing of a broken cross." + +"Before the day dawns we will send the broken cross to Jerusalem." + + +END OF BOOK I + + + + +BOOK II + +"A horror of great darkness." + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WHILE LONDON WAS SLEEPING + + +In the winter, two or three weeks before Christmas, Gortre asked Father +Ripon for a ten days' holiday, and went to Walktown to spend the time +with Mr. Byars and Helena. Christmas itself could be no time of vacation +for him,--the duties of St. Mary's were very heavy,--so he snatched a +respite from work before the actual time of festival. + +Harold Spence was left alone in the chambers at Lincoln's Inn. The +journalist found himself discontented, lonely, and bored. He had not +realised before how much Basil's society had contributed to his +happiness during the past few months. It had grown to be a necessity to +him gradually, and, as is the case with all gradual processes, the lack +of it surprised him with its sense of incompleteness and loss. + +He had spent a hard summer and autumn over very uncongenial work. For +months there had been a curious lull and calm in the news-world. Yet day +by day the _Daily Wire_ had to be filled. Not that there was any lack of +material,--even in the dullest season the expert journalist will tell +one that his difficulty is what to _leave out_ of his paper, not what to +_put in_,--but that the material was uninteresting and dull. + +He felt himself that his leaders were growing rather stale, lacking in +spontaneity. His style did not glitter and ring quite as usual. And +Basil had helped him through this time wonderfully. + +One Wednesday--he remembered the day afterwards--Spence awoke about +mid-day. He had been late at the office the night before and afterwards +had gone to a club, not going to bed till after four. + +He heard the laundress moving about the chambers preparing his +breakfast. He shouted to her, and in a minute or two she came in with +his letters and a cup of tea. She went to the window and pulled up the +blind, letting a dreary grey-yellow December light into the room. + +"Nasty day, Mrs. Buscall," he said, sipping his tea. + +"It is so, sir," the woman said, a lean, kindly-faced London drudge from +a court in Drury Lane. "Gives me a frog in my throat all the time, this +fog does. You'd better let me pour a drop of hot water in your bath, +sir. I've got the kettle on the gas stove." + +The laundress had an objection to baths, deep-rooted and a matter of +principle. The daily cold tub she regarded as suicidal, and when Gortre +had arrived, her pained surprise at finding him also--a clergyman +too!--addicted to such adventurous and injudicious habits had been as +extreme as her disappointment. + +Spence agreed to humour her, and she began to prepare the bath. + +"Letter from Mr. Cyril, I see, sir," she remarked. Mrs. Buscall loved +the archæologist with more strenuousness than her other two charges. The +unusual and mysterious has a real fascination for a certain type of +uneducated Cockney brain. Hands's rare sojourns at the chambers, the +Eastern dresses and pictures in his room, his strange and perilous +life--as she considered it--in the veritable Bible land, where Satan +actually roamed the desert in the form of a lion seeking whom he might +devour, all these stimulated her crude imagination and brought colour +into the dreary purlieus of Drury Lane. + +Most of the women around Mrs. Buscall drank gin. The doings of Cyril +Hands were sufficient tonic for her. + +Spence glanced at the bulky packet with its Turkish stamps and peculiar +aroma--which the London fog had not yet killed--of ships and alien suns. +Hands was a good correspondent. Sometimes he sent general articles on +the work he was doing, not too technical, and Ommaney, the editor of +Spence's paper, used and paid well for them. + +But on this morning Spence did not feel inclined to open the packet. It +could wait. He was not in the humour for it now. It would be too +tantalising to read of those deep skies like a hard, hollow turquoise, +of the flaming white sun, the white mosques and minarets throwing purple +shadows round the cypress and olive. + +"_Neque enim ignari sumus_," he muttered to himself, recalling the swing +and freedom of his own travels, the vivid, picturesque life where, at +great moments, he had been one of the eyes of England, flashing electric +words to tell his countrymen of what lay before him. + +And now, after the chill of his bath and the rasping torture of shaving +in winter, he must light all the gas-jets as he sat down to breakfast in +his sitting-room! + +He opened the _Wire_ and glanced at his own work of the night before. +How lifeless it seemed to him! + + "Many years ago Bagehot wrote that 'Parliament expresses the + nation's opinions in words well, when it happens that words, not + laws, are wanted. On foreign matters, where we cannot legislate, + whatever the English nation thinks, or thinks it thinks, as to the + critical events of the world, whether in Denmark, in Italy or + America, and no matter whether it thinks wisely or unwisely, that + same something, wise or unwise, will be thoroughly well said in + Parliament.' + + "We have never read a finer defence of such Parliamentary + discussion as the recent events in certain Continental + bureaucracies have given rise to, etc., etc." + +Words! words! words! that seemed to him to mean little and matter +nothing. Yet as he chipped his egg he remembered that the writing of +this leader had meant considerable mental strain. Oh, for a big +happening abroad, when he would be sent and another would take up this +routine work! He knew he was a far better correspondent than leader +writer. His heart was in that work. + +There were one or two invitations among his letters, two books were sent +by a young publisher, a friend of his, asking if he could get them +"noticed" in the _Wire_, and a syllabus of some winter lectures to be +given at Oxford House. His name was there. He was to lecture in January +on "The Sodality of the Knights of St. John". + +After breakfast, the lunch time of most of the world, he found it +impossible to settle down to anything. He was not due at the office that +night, and the long hours, without the excitement of his work, stretched +rather hopelessly before him. He thought of paying calls in the various +parts of the West End, where he had friends whom he had rather neglected +of late. But he dismissed that idea when it came, for he did not feel as +if he could make himself very agreeable to any one. + +He wanted a complete change of some sort. He half thought of running +down to Brighton, fighting the cold, bracing sea winds on the lawns at +Hove, and returning the next day. + +He was certainly out of sorts, liverish no doubt, and the solution to +his difficulties presented itself to him in the project of a Turkish +bath. + +He put his correspondence into the pocket of his overcoat, to be read +at leisure, and drove to a hammam in Jermyn Street. + +The physical warmth, the silence, the dim lights, and Oriental +decorations induced a supreme sense of comfort and _bien-être_. It +brought Constantinople back to him in vague reverie. + +Perhaps, he thought, the Turkish bath in London is the only easy way to +obtain a sudden and absolute change of environment. Nothing else brings +detachment so readily, is so instinct with change and the unusual. + +In delightful langour he passed from one dim chamber to another, lying +prone in the great heat which surrounded him like a cloak. Then the +vigorous kneading and massage, the gradual toning and renovating of each +joint and muscle, till he stood drenched in aromatic foam, a new, fresh +physical personality. The swift dive under the india-rubber curtain left +behind the domed, dim places of heat and silence. He plunged through the +bottle-green water of the marble pool into the hall, where lounges stood +about by small inlaid octagonal tables, and a thin whip of a fountain +tinkled among green palms. Wrapped from head to foot in soft white +towels, he lay in a dream of contentment, watching the delicate spirals +from his Cairene cigarette, and sipping the brown froth of a tiny cup of +thick coffee. + +At four a slippered attendant brought him a sole and a bottle of yellow +wine, and after the light meal he fell once more into a placid, +restorative sleep. + +And all the while the letter from Jerusalem was in his overcoat pocket, +forgotten, hung in the entrance-hall. The thing which was to alter the +lives of thousands and ten thousands, that was to bring a cloud over +England more dark and menacing than it had ever known, lay there with +its stupendous message, its relentless influence, while outside the +church bells all over London were tolling for Evensong. + +At length, as night was falling, Spence went out into the lighted +streets with their sudden roar of welcome. He was immensely refreshed in +brain and body. His thoughts moved quickly and well, depression had left +him, the activity of his brain was unceasing. + +As a rule, especially for the last year or two, Spence was by no means a +man given to casual amusements. His work was too absorbing for him to +have time or inclination to follow pleasure. But to-night he felt in the +humour for relaxation. + +He turned into St. James Street, where his club was, intending to find +some one who would go to a music-hall with him. There was no one he knew +intimately in the smoking-room, but soon after he arrived Lambert, one +of the deputy curators from the British Museum, came in. Spence and +Lambert had been at Marlborough together. + +Spence asked Lambert, who was in evening dress, to be his companion. + +"Sorry I can't, old man," he answered; "I've got to dine with my uncle, +Sir Michael. It's a bore, of course, but it's policy. The place will be +full of High Church bishops, minor Cabinet Ministers, and people of that +sort. I only hope old Ripon will be there--he's my uncle's tame vicar, +you know; uncle runs an expensive church, like some men run a +theatre--for he's always bright and amusing. You're not working +to-night, then?" + +"No, not to-night. I've been and had a Turkish bath, and I thought I'd +wind up a day of mild dissipation by going to the Alhambra." + +"Sorry I can't go too--awful bore. I've had a tiring day, too, and a +ballet would be refreshing. The governor's been in a state of filthy +irritation and nerves for the last fortnight." + +"Sir Robert Llwellyn, isn't it?" + +"Yes, he's my chief, and a very good fellow too, as a rule. He went away +for several months, you know--travelled abroad for his health. When he +first came back, three months ago, he looked as fit as a fiddle, and +seemed awfully pleased with himself all round. But lately he's been +decidedly off colour. He seems worried about something, does hardly any +work, and always seems waiting and looking out for a coming event. He +bothers me out of my life, always coming into my room and talking about +nothing, or speculating upon the possibility of all sorts of new +discoveries which will upset every one's theories." + +"I met him in Dieppe in the spring. He seemed all right then, just at +the beginning of his leave." + +"Well, he's certainly not that now, worse luck, and confound him. He +interferes with my work no end. Good-bye; sorry I must go." + +He passed softly over the heavy carpet of the smoking-room, and Spence +was left alone once more. + +It was after seven o'clock. + +Spence wasn't hungry yet. The light meal in the hammam had satisfied +him. He resolved to go to the Empire alone, not because the idea of +going seemed very attractive, but because he had planned it and could +substitute no other way of spending the evening for the first +determination. + +So, about nine o'clock, he strolled into the huge, garish music-hall. + +He went into the Empire, and already his contentment was beginning to +die away again. The day seemed a day of trivialities, a sordid, +uneventful day of London gloom, which he had vainly tried to disperse +with little futile rockets of amusement. + +He sat down in a stall and watched a clever juggler doing wonderful +things with billiard balls. After the juggler a coarsely handsome +Spanish girl came upon the stage--he remembered her at La Scala, in +Paris. She was said to be one of the beauties of Europe, and a king's +favourite. + +After the Spanish woman there were two men, "brothers" some one. One was +disguised as a donkey--a veritable _peau de chagrin_!--the other as a +tramp, and together they did laughable things. + +With a sigh he went up-stairs and moved slowly through the thronged +promenade. The hard faces of the men and women repelled him. One elderly +Jewish-looking person reminded him of a great grey slug. He turned into +the American bar at one extremity of the horse-shoe. It was early yet, +and the big room, pleasantly cool, was quite empty. A man brought him a +long, parti-coloured drink. + +He felt the pressure of a packet in his pocket. It was Cyril Hands's +letter, he found as he took it out. He thought of young Lambert at the +club, a friend of Hands and fellow-worker in the same field, and +languidly opened the letter. + +Two women came in and sat at a table not far from him as he began to +read. He was the only man in the place, and they regarded him with a +tense, conscious interest. + +They saw him open a bulky envelope with a careless manner. He would look +up soon, they expected. + +But as they watched they saw a sudden, swift contraction of the brows, a +momentous convulsion of every feature. His head bent lower towards the +manuscript. They saw that he became very pale. + +In a minute or two what had at first seemed a singular paleness became a +frightful ashen colour. + +"That Johnny's going to be ill," one of the women said to the other. + +As she spoke they saw the face change. A lurid excitement burst upon it +like a flame. The eyes glowed, the mouth settled into swift purpose. + +Spence took up his hat and left the room with quick, decided steps. He +threaded his way through the crowd round the circle--like a bed of +orchids, surrounded by heavy, poisonous scents--and almost ran into the +street. + +A cab was waiting. He got into it, and, inspired by his words and +appearance, the man drove furiously down dark Garrick Street, and the +blazing Strand towards the offices of the _Daily Wire_. + +The great building of dressed stone which stood in the middle of Fleet +Street was dark. The advertisement halls and business offices were +closed. + +Spence paid his man and dived down a long, narrow passage, paved, and +with high walls on either side. At the end of the passage he pushed open +some battered swing-doors. A _commissionaire_ in a little hutch touched +his cap as Spence ran up a broad flight of stone stairs. + +The journalist turned down a long corridor with doors on either side. +The glass fanlights over the doors showed that all the rooms were +brilliantly lit within. The place was very quiet, save for the distant +clicking of a typewriter and the thud of a "column-printer" tape machine +as the wheel carrier shot back for a new line. + +He opened a door with his own name painted on it and went inside. At a +very large writing-table, on which stood two shaded electric lights, an +elderly man, heavily built and bearded, was writing on small slips of +paper. There was another table in the room, a great many books on +shelves upon the walls, and a thick carpet. The big man looked up as +Spence came in, lifted a cup of tea which was standing by him, and drank +a little. He nodded without speaking, and went on with his leading +article. + +Spence took off his hat and coat, drew the sheets of Hands's letter from +his pocket, and went out into the passage. At the extreme end he opened +a door, and passing round a red baize screen found himself in Ommaney's +room, the centre of the great web of brains and machinery which daily +gave the _Wire_ to the world. + +Ommaney's room was very large, warm, and bright. It was also extremely +tidy. The writing-table had little on it save a great blotting-pad and +an inkstand. The books on chairs and shelves were neatly arranged. + +The editor sat at a table in the centre of the room, facing several +doors which led into various departments of the staff. The chief +sub-editor, a short, alert person, spectacled and Jewish in aspect, +stood by Ommaney's side as Spence came in. He had proof of page three in +his hand--that portion of the paper which consisted of news which had +accumulated through the day. He was submitting it to the editor, so that +the whole sheet might be finally "passed for press" and "go to the +foundry," where the type would be pressed into _papier-mâché_ moulds, +from which the final curved plates for the roller machines would be +cast. + +"Not at all a bad make-up, Levita," Ommaney said, as he initialled the +margin in blue pencil. The sub-editor hurried from the room. + +Ommaney was slim and pale, carefully dressed, and of medium height. He +did not look very old. His moustache was golden and carefully tended, +his pale, honey-coloured hair waved over a high, white forehead. + +"I shall want an hour," Spence said. "I've just got what may be the most +stupendous news any newspaper has ever published." + +The editor looked up quickly. A flash of interest passed over his pale, +immobile face and was gone. He knew that if Spence spoke like this the +occasion was momentous. + +He looked at his watch. "Is it news for to-night's paper?" he said. + +"No," answered Spence. "I'm the only man in England, I think, who has it +yet. We shall gain nothing by printing to-night. But we must settle on a +course of action at once. That won't wait. You'll understand when I +explain." + +Ommaney nodded. On the writing-table was a mahogany stand about a foot +square. A circle was described on it, and all round the circle, like the +figures on the face of a clock, were little ivory tablets an inch long, +with a name printed on each. In the centre of the circle a vulcanite +handle moved a steel bar working on a pivot. Ommaney turned the handle +till the end of the bar rested over the tablet marked + + +--------------------+ + | COMPOSING ROOM | + +--------------------+ + +He picked up the receiver and transmitter of a portable telephone and +asked one or two questions. + +When he had communicated with several other rooms in this way Ommaney +turned to Spence. + +"All right," he said, "I can give you an hour now. Things are fairly +easy to-night." + +He got up from the writing-table and sat down by the fire. Spence took a +chair opposite. + +He seemed dazed. He was trembling with excitement, his face was pale +with it, yet, above and beyond this agitation, there was almost fear in +his eyes. + +"It's a discovery in Palestine--at Jerusalem," he said in a low, +vibrating voice, spreading out the thin, crackling sheets of foreign +note-paper on his knee and arranging them in order. + +"You know Cyril Hands, the agent of the Palestine Exploring Fund?" + +"Yes, quite well by reputation," said Ommaney, "and I've met him once or +twice. Very sound man." + +"These papers are from him. They seem to be of tremendous importance, of +a significance that I can hardly grasp yet." + +"What is the nature of them?" asked the editor, rising from his chair, +powerfully affected in his turn by Spence's manner. + +Harold put his hand up to his throat, pulling at his collar; the apple +moved up and down convulsively. + +"The Tomb!" Spence gasped. "The Holy Tomb!" + +"What do you mean?" asked Ommaney. "Another supposed burial-place of +Christ--like the _Times_ business, when they found the Gordon Tomb, and +Canon MacColl wrote such a lot?" + +His face fell a little. This, though interesting enough, and fine "news +copy," was less than he hoped. + +"No, no," cried Spence, getting his voice back at last and speaking like +a man in acute physical pain. "_A new tomb has been found. There is an +inscription in Greek, written by Joseph of Arimathæa, and there are +other traces._" + +His voice failed him. + +"_Go on, man, go on!_" said the editor. + +"_The inscription--tells that Joseph--took the body of Jesus--from his +own garden tomb--he hid it in this place--the disciples never knew--it +is a confession_----" + +Ommaney was as white as Spence now. + +"_There are other contributory proofs_," Spence continued. "_Hands says +it is certain. All the details are here, read_----" + +Ommaney stared fixedly at his lieutenant. + +"_Then, if this is true_," he whispered, "_it means?_----" + +"THAT CHRIST NEVER ROSE FROM THE DEAD, THAT CHRISTIANITY IS ALL A LIE." + +Spence slipped back in his chair a little and fainted. + +With the assistance of two men from one of the other rooms they brought +him back to consciousness before very long. Then while Ommaney read the +papers Spence sat nervously in his chair, sipping some brandy-and-water +they had brought him and trying to smoke a cigarette with a palsied +hand. + +The editor finished at last. "Pull yourself together, Spence," he said +sharply. "This is no time for sentiment. I know your beliefs, though I +do not share them, and I can sympathise with you. But keep yourself off +all private thoughts now. We must be extremely careful what we are +doing. Now listen carefully to me." + +The keen voice roused Spence. He made a tremendous effort at +self-control. + +"It seems," Ommaney went on, "that we alone know of this discovery. The +secretary of the Palestine Exploring Society will not receive the news +for another week, Hands says. He seems stunned, and no wonder. In about +a fortnight his detailed papers will probably be published. I see he has +already telegraphed privately for Dr. Schmöulder, the German expert. Of +course you and I are hardly competent to judge of the value of this +communication. To me--speaking as a layman--it seems extremely clear. +But we must of course see a specialist before publishing anything. _If +this news is true_--and I would give all I am worth if it were not, +though I am no Christian--of course you realise that the future history +of the world is changed? I hold in my hand something that will come to +millions and millions of people as an utter extinction of hope and +light. It's impossible to say what will happen. Moral law will be +abrogated for a time. The whole moral fabric of Society will fall into +ruin at once until it can adjust itself to the new state of things. +There will be war all over the world; crime will cover England like a +cloud----" + +His voice faltered as the terrible picture grew in his brain. + +Both of them felt that mere words were utterly unable to express the +horrors which they saw dawning. + +"We don't know the truth yet," said Spence, at length. + +"No," answered Ommaney. "I am not going to speculate on it either. I am +beginning to realise what we are dealing with. One man's brain cannot +hold all this. So let me ask you to regard this matter _for the present_ +simply from the standpoint of the paper, and through it, of course, from +the standpoint of public policy----" + +He broke off suddenly, for there was a knock at the door. A +_commissionaire_ entered with a telegram. It was for Spence. He opened +the envelope, read the contents with a groan, and passed it to the +editor. + +The telegram was from Hands: + + "Schmöulder entirely confirms discovery, is communicating first + instance with Kaiser privately, fuller details in mail, confer + Ommaney, make statement to Secretary Society, use Wire medium + publicity, leave all to you, see Prime Minister, send out Llwellyn + behalf Government immediately, meanwhile suggest attitude suspended + decision, personally fear little doubt.--HANDS." + +"We must act at once," said Ommaney. "We have a fearful responsibility +now. It's not too much to say that everything depends on us. Have you +got any of that brandy left? My head throbs like an engine." + +A sub-editor who came in and was briefly dismissed told his colleagues +that something was going on in the editor's room of an extraordinary +nature. "The chief was actually drinking a peg, and his hand shook like +a leaf." + +Ommaney drank the spirits--he was an absolute teetotaler as a rule, +though not pledged in any way to abstinence--and it revived him. + +"Now let us try and think," he said, lighting a cigarette and walking up +and down the room. + +Spence lit a cigarette also. As he did so he gave a sudden, sharp, +unnatural chuckle. He was smoking when the Light of the World--the whole +great world!--was flickering into darkness. + +Ommaney saw him and interpreted the thought. He pulled him up at once +with a few sharp words, for he knew that Spence was close upon hysteria. + +"From a news point of view," he continued, "we hold all the cards. No +one else knows what we know. I am certain that the German papers will +publish nothing for a day or two. The Emperor will tell them nothing, +and they can have no other source of information; so I gather from this +telegram. Dr. Schmöulder will not say anything until he has instructions +from Potsdam. That means I need not publish anything in to-morrow's +paper. It will relieve me of a great responsibility. We shall be first +in the field, but I shall still have a few hours to consult with +others." + +He pressed a bell on the table. "Tell Mr. Jones I wish to see him," he +told the boy who answered the summons. + +A young man came in, the editor of the "personal" column. + +"Is the Prime Minister in town, Mr. Jones?" he asked. + +"Yes, sir; he's here for three more days." + +"I shall send a message now," said Ommaney, "asking for an interview in +an hour's time. I know he will see me. He knows that I would not come at +this hour unless the matter were of national importance. As you know, we +are very much in the confidence of the Cabinet just now. I dare not wait +till to-morrow." He rapidly wrote a note and sent for Mr. Folliott +Farmer. + +The big-bearded man from Spence's room entered, smoking a briar pipe. + +"Mr. Farmer," said Ommaney, "I suppose you've done your leader?" + +"Sent it up-stairs ten minutes ago," said the big man. + +"Then I want you to do me a favour. The matter is so important that I do +not like to trust any one else. I want you to drive to Downing Street at +once as hard as you can go. Take this letter for Lord ----. It is making +an appointment for me in an hour's time. He _must_ see it himself at +once--take my card. One of the secretaries will try and put you off, of +course. This is irregular, but it is of international importance. When I +tell you this you will realise that Lord ---- _must_ see the note. Bring +me back the answer as rapidly as you can." + +The elderly man--his name was a household word as a political writer all +over England and the Continent--nodded without speaking, took the +letter, and left the room. He knew Ommaney, and realised that if he made +a messenger boy of him, Folliott Farmer, the matter was of supreme +importance. + +"That is the only thing to do," said Ommaney. "No one else would be +possible. The Archbishop would laugh. We must go to the real head. I +only want to put myself on the safe side before publishing. If they +meet me properly, then for the next few days we can control public +opinion. If not, then it is my duty to publish, and if I'm not +officially backed up there may be war in a week. Macedonia would be +flaming, Turkish fanatics would embroil Europe. But that will be seen at +once in Downing Street, unless I'm very much mistaken." + +"It's an awful, horrible risk we are running," said Spence. He was +forgetting all personal impressions in the excitement of the work; the +journalist was alive in him. "Hands's letter and diagrams seem so +flawless; he has exhausted every means of disproving what he says; but +still supposing that it is all untrue!" + +"I look at it this way," said Ommaney. "It's perfectly obvious, at any +rate, that the discovery is of the first importance, regarded as news. +Hands has the reputation of being a thoroughly safe man, and now he is +supported by Schmöulder. Schmöulder is, of course, a man of world-wide +reputation. As these two are certain, even if later opinion or discovery +proves the thing to be untrue, the paper can't suffer. Our attitude +will, of course, be non-committal, until certainty one way or the other +comes. At any rate, it seems to me that you have brought in the greatest +newspaper 'scoop' that has ever been known or thought of. For my part, I +have little doubt of the truth of this. Can't go into it now, but it +seems so very, very probable. It _explains_, and even _corroborates_, +and that's the wonderful thing, so much of the Gospel narrative. We +shall see what Llwellyn says. I've more to go into, but, meanwhile, I +must make arrangements for setting up Hands's papers. Then there are the +inscriptions, too. Of course they must be reproduced in facsimile. As we +can't print in half-tone, I must have the photograph turned into an +absolutely correct line drawing, and have line blocks made. I shall +have pulls of the whole thing prepared and sent by post to-morrow at +midnight to the editors of all the dailies in London and Paris, and to +the heads of the Churches. I shall also prepare a statement, showing +exactly how the documents have come into our possession and what steps +we are taking. I shall write the thing to-night, after I have seen the +Prime Minister." + +He went to his writing-table once more, moved the telephone indicator, +and summoned the foreman printer. + +In a few moments a lean Scotchman in his shirt sleeves--one of the most +autocratic and important people connected with the paper--came into the +room. + +"I want an absolutely reliable linotype operator, Burness," said +Ommaney. "He will have to set up some special copy for me after the +paper's gone to press. It'll take him till breakfast-time. I want a man +who will not talk. The thing is private and important. And it must be a +man who can set up from the Greek font by hand also. There are some +quotations in Greek included in the text." + +"Well, sirr," said the man, with a strong Scotch accent, "I can find ye +a guid operrator to stay till morning, but aboot his silence--if it's of +great moment--I wouldn't say, and aboot his aptitude for setting up +Greek type I hae nae doot whatever. There's no a lino operrator in the +building wha can do it. Some of the men at the case might, but that'll +be keeping two men. Is it verra important, Mr. Ommaney?" + +"More important than anything I have ever dealt with." + +"Then ye'll please jist give the copy into my own hands, sirr. I'll do +the lino and the case warrk mysel' and pull a galley proof for ye too. +No one shall see the copy but me." + +"Thank you, Burness," said the editor. "I'm very much obliged. I shall +be here till morning. I shall go out in an hour and be back by the time +the machines are running down-stairs. Then the composing-room will be +empty and you can get to work." + +"I'll start directly the plates have gone down to the foundry and the +men are off, just keeping one hand to see to the gas-engine." + +"And, Burness, lock up the galley safely when you come down with the +proof." + +"I'll do it, sir," and the great man--indispensable, and earning his six +hundred a year--went away with the precious papers. + +"That is perfectly safe with Burness," said Spence, as the foreman +compositor retired. "He will make no mistakes either. He is a capital +Greek scholar, corrects the proof-readers themselves often." + +"Yes," answered Ommaney, "I know. I shall leave everything in his hands. +Then late to-morrow night, just before the forms go to the foundry, I +shall shove the whole thing in before any one knows anything about it, +and nothing can get round to any other office. Burness will know about +it beforehand, and he'll be ready to break up a whole page for this +stuff. Of course, as far as leaders go and comment, I shall be guided +very much by the result of my interview to-night and others to-morrow +morning. I shall send off several cables before dawn to Palestine and +elsewhere." + +Once more the editor began to pace up and down the room, thinking +rapidly, decisively, deeply. The slim, fragile body was informed with +power by the splendid brain which animated it. + +The rather languid, silent man was utterly changed. Here one could see +the strength and force of the personality which directed and controlled +the second, perhaps the first, most powerful engine of public opinion in +the world. The millionaires who paid this frail-looking, youthful man +an enormous sum to direct their paper for them knew what they were +about. They had bought one of the finest living executive brains and +made it a potentate among its fellows. This man who, when he was not at +the office, or holding some hurried colloquy with one of the rulers of +the world, was asleep in a solitary flat at Kensington, knew that he had +an accepted right to send a message to Downing Street, such as he had +lately done. No one knew his face--no one of the great outside public; +his was hardly even a name to be recognised in passing, yet he, and +Spence, and Folliott Farmer could shake a continent with their words. +And though all knew it, or would at least have realised it had they ever +given it a thought, the absolute self-effacement of journalism made it a +matter of no moment to any of them. + +While Englishmen read their dicta, and unconsciously incorporated them +into their own pronouncements, mouthing them in street, market, and +forum, these men slept till the busy day was over, and once more with +the setting of the sun stole out to their almost furtive and yet +tremendous task. + +Every now and then Ommaney strode to the writing-table and made a rapid +note on a sheet of paper. + +At last he turned to Spence. + +"I am beginning to have our line of action well marked out in my brain," +he said. "The thing is grouping itself very well. I am beginning to see +my way. Now about you, Spence. Of course this thing is yours. At any +rate you brought it here. Later on, of course, we shall show our +gratitude in some substantial way. That will depend upon the upshot of +the whole thing. Meanwhile, you will be quite wasted in London. I and +Farmer and Wilson can deal with anything and everything here. Of course +I would rather have you on the spot, but I can use you far better +elsewhere." + +"Then?" said Spence. + +"You must go to Jerusalem at once. Start for Paris to-morrow morning at +nine; you'd better go round to your chambers and pack up now and then +come back here till it's time to start. You can sleep _en route_. I +shall be here till breakfast-time, and I can give you final +instructions." + +He used the telephone once more and his secretary came in. + +"Mr. Spence starts for Palestine to-morrow morning, Marriott," he said. +"He is going straight through to Jerusalem as fast as may be. Oblige me +by getting out a route for him at once, marking all the times for +steamers and trains, etc., in a clear scheme for Mr. Spence to take with +him. Be very careful with the Continental timetables indeed. If you can +see any delay anywhere which will be likely to occur, go down to Cook's +early in the morning and make full inquiries. If it is necessary, +arrange for any special trains that may be necessary. Mr. Spence must +not be delayed a day. Also map out various points on the journey, with +the proper times, where we can telegraph instructions to Mr. Spence. Go +down to Mr. Woolford and ask him for a hundred pounds in notes and give +them to Mr. Spence. You will arrange about the usual letter of credit +during the day and wire Mr. Spence at Paris after lunch." + +The young man went out to do his part in the great organisation which +Ommaney controlled. + +"Then you'll be back between three and four?" Ommaney said. + +"Yes, I'll go and pack at once," Spence answered. "My passport from the +Foreign Office is all right now." + +He rose to go, vigorous, and with an inexpressible sense of relief at +the active prospect before him. There would be no time for haunting +thought, for personal fears yet. He was going, himself, to the very +heart of things, to see and to gain personal knowledge of these events +which were shadowing the world. + +The door opened as he rose and Folliott Farmer strode in. With him was a +tall, distinguished man of about five-and-thirty; he was in evening +dress and rather bald. + +It was Lord Trelyon, the Prime Minister's private secretary. + +"I thought I would come myself with Mr. Farmer, Mr. Ommaney," he said, +shaking hands cordially. "Lord ---- will see you. He tells me to say +that if it is absolutely imperative he will see you. I suppose there is +no doubt of that?" + +"None whatever, I'm sorry to say, Lord Trelyon," the editor answered. +"Farmer, will you take charge till I return?" + +He slipped on his overcoat and a felt hat and left the room with the +secretary without looking back. Spence followed the two down the +stairs--the tall, athletic young fellow and the slim, nervous +journalist. These were just driving furiously towards the Law Courts as +Spence turned into Fleet Street on his way to Lincoln's Inn. + +Fleet Street was brilliantly lit and almost silent. A few cabs hovered +about and that was all. Presently all the air would be filled with the +dull roar and hum of the great printing machines in their underground +halls, but the press hour was hardly yet. + +The porter let him into the Inn, and in a few moments he was striking +matches and lighting the gas. Mrs. Buscall had cleared away the +breakfast things, but the fire had long since gone out. The big rooms +looked very bare and solitary, unfamiliar almost, as the gas-jets hissed +in the silence. + +One or two letters were in the box. One envelope bore the Manchester +post-mark. It was from Basil Gortre. A curious pang, half wonder and +anticipation, half fear, passed through his mind as he saw the familiar +handwriting of his friend. But it was a pang for Gortre, not for +himself. He himself was wholly detached now that the time for action had +arrived. Personal consideration would come later. At present he was +starting out on the old trail--"The old trail, the long trail, the trail +that is always new." + +He felt a _man_ again, with a fierce joy and exultation throbbing in all +his veins after the torpor of the last few weeks. + +He sat down at the table, first getting some bread and cheese from a +cupboard, for he was hungry, and opening a bottle of beer. The beer +tasted wonderfully good. He laughed exultingly in the flow of his high +spirits. + +He wrote a note to Mrs. Buscall, long since inured to these sudden +midnight departures, and another to Gortre. To him he said that some +great and momentous discoveries were made at Jerusalem by Hands, and +that he himself was starting at once for the Holy City as special +correspondent for the _Wire_. He would write _en route_, he explained, +there was no time for any details now. + +"Poor chap," he said to himself, "he'll know soon enough now. I hope he +won't take it very badly." + +Then he went into his bedroom and hauled down the great pig-skin +kit-bag, covered with foreign labels, which had accompanied him half +over the world. + +He packed quickly and completely, the result of long practice. The pads +of paper, the stylographic pens, with the special ink for hot countries +which would not dry up or corrode, his revolvers, riding-breeches, boots +and spurs, the kodak, with spare films and light-tight zinc cases, the +old sun helmet--he forgot nothing. + +When he had finished, and the big bag, with a small Gladstone also, was +strapped and locked, he changed joyously from the black coat of cities +into his travelling tweeds of tough cloth. At length everything seemed +prepared. He sat on the bed and looked round him, willing to be gone. + +His eye fell on the opposite wall. A crucifix hung there, carved in +ebony and ivory. During his short holiday at Dieppe, nearly nine months +ago now, he had gone into the famous little shop there where carved work +of all kinds is sold. Basil and Helena were with him and they had all +bought mementoes. Helena had given him that. + +And as he looked at it now he wondered what his journey would bring +forth. Was he, indeed, chosen out of men to go to this far country to +tear Christ from that awful and holy eminence of the Cross? Was it to be +his mission to extinguish the _Lux Mundi_? + +As he gazed at the sacred emblem he felt that this could not be. + +No, no! a thousand times no. Jesus _had_ risen to save him and all other +sinners. It _was_ so, must be so, should be so. + +The Holy Name was in itself enough. He whispered it to himself. No, +_that_ was eternally, gloriously true. + +Humbly, faithfully, gladly he knelt among the litter of the room and +said the Lord's Prayer, said it in Latin as he had said it at school-- + + _Pater noster!_ + + + + +CHAPTER II + +AVOIDING THE FLOWER PATTERN ON THE CARPET + + +Sir Michael Manichoe, the stay and pillar of "Anglicanism" in the +English Church, was a man of great natural gifts. The owner of one of +those colossal Jewish fortunes which, few as they are, have such +far-reaching influence upon English life, he employed it in a way which, +for a man in his position, was unique. + +He presented the curious spectacle, to sociologists and the world at +large, of a Jew by origin who had become a Christian by conviction and +one of the sincerest sons of the English Church as he understood it. In +political life Sir Michael was a steady, rather than a brilliant, force. +He had been Home Secretary under a former Conservative administration, +but had retired from office. At the present moment he was a private +member for the division in which his country house, Fencastle, stood, +and he enjoyed the confidence of the chiefs of his party. + +His great talent was for organisation, and all his powers in that +direction were devoted towards the preservation and unification of the +Church to which he was a convert. + +Sir Michael's convictions were perfectly clear and straightforward. He +believed, with all his heart, in the Catholicity of the Anglican +persuasion. Roman priests he spoke of as "members of the Italian +mission"; Nonconformists as "adherents to the lawless bands of Dissent." +He allowed the validity of Roman orders and spoke of the Pope as the +"Bishop of Rome," an Italian ecclesiastic with whom the English +communion had little or nothing to do. + +In his intimate and private life Sir Michael lived according to rubric. +His splendid private chapel at Fencastle enjoyed the services of a +chaplain, reinforced by priests from a community of Anglican monks which +Sir Michael had established in an adjacent village. In London, St. +Mary's was, in some sense, his particular property. He spent fabulous +sums on the big Bloomsbury Parish and the needs of its great, +cathedral-like church. There was no vicar in London who enjoyed the +command of money that Father Ripon enjoyed. Certainly there was no other +priest in the ranks of the High Churchmen who was the confidential +friend and spiritual director of so powerful a political and social +personality. + +Yet in his public life Sir Michael was diplomatic enough. He worked +steadily for one thing, it is true, but he was far too able to allow +people to call him narrow-minded. The Oriental strain of cunning in his +blood had sweetened to a wise diplomacy. While he always remembered he +was a Churchman, he did not forget that to be an effective and helpful +one he must keep his political and social eminence. And so, whatever +might take place behind the scenes in the library with Father Ripon, or +in the Bloomsbury clergy house, the baronet showed the world the face of +a man of the world, and neither obtruded his private views nor allowed +them to disturb his colleagues. + +The day after the news arrived in Fleet Street from Palestine--while +nothing was yet known and Harold Spence was rushing through Amiens _en +route_ for Paris and the East--a house party began to collect at +Fencastle, the great place in Lincolnshire. + +For a day or two a few rather important people were to meet under Sir +Michael's roof. Now and then the palace in the fen lands was the scene +of notable gatherings, much talked of in certain circles and commented +on by people who would truthfully have described themselves as being "in +the know." + +These parties were, indeed, congresses of the eminent, the "big" people +who quietly control an England which the ignorant and the vulgar love to +imagine is in the hands of a corrupt society of well-born, "smart," and +pleasure-seeking people. + +The folk who gathered at Fencastle were as remote from the gambling, +lecherous, rabbit-brained set which glitters so brightly before the eyes +of the uninformed as any staid, middle-class reader of the popular +journals. + +In this stronghold of English Catholicism--"hot-bed of ritualists" as +the brawling "Protestant" journals called it, one met a diversity of +people, widely divided in views and only alike in one thing--the +dominant quality of their brains and position. + +Sir Michael thought it well that even his professed opponents should +meet at his table, for it gave both him and his lieutenants new data and +fresh impressions for use in the campaign. Sir Michael's convictions +were perfectly unalterable, but to find out how others--and those +hostile--really regarded them only added to the weapons in his armoury. + +And, as one London priest once remarked to another, the combination of a +Jewish brain and a Christian heart was one which had already +revolutionised Society nearly two thousand years ago in the persons of +eleven distinguished instances. + +As Father Ripon drove to Liverpool Street Station after lunch, to catch +the afternoon train to the eastern counties, he was reading a letter as +his cab turned into Cheapside and crawled slowly through the heavy +afternoon traffic of the city. + + " ... It will be as well for you to see the man _à huisclos_ and + form your own opinions. There can be no doubt that he is a force to + be reckoned with, and he is, moreover, as I think you will agree + after inspection, far more brilliant and able than any other + _professed_ antichristian of the front rank. Then there will also + be Mrs. Hubert Armstrong. She is a pseudo-intellectual force, but + her writings have a certain heaviness and authoritative note which + I believe to have real influence with the large class of + semi-educated people who mistake an _atmosphere_ of knowledge for + knowledge itself. A very charming woman, by the way, and I think + sincere. Matthew Arnold and water! + + "The Duke of Suffolk will stop a night on his way home. He writes + that he wishes to see you. As you know, he is just back from Rome, + and now that they have definitely pronounced against the validity + of Anglican orders he is most anxious to have a further chat with + you in order to form a working opinion as to _our_ position. From + his letter to me, and the extremely interesting account he gives of + his interview at the Vatican, I gather that the Roman Church still + utterly misunderstands our attitude, and that hopes there are high + of the ultimate "conversion" of England. I hope that as a + representative of English Churchmen you will be able to define what + we think in an unmistakable way. This will have value. Among my + other guests you will meet Canon Walke. He is preaching in Lincoln + Cathedral on the Sunday, fresh from Windsor. "Render unto Cæsar" + will, I allow myself to imagine, not be an unlikely text for his + homily.--I am, Father, yours most sincerely, + + "M. M." + +Still thinking carefully over Sir Michael's letter, Father Ripon bought +his ticket and made his way to the platform. + +He got into a first-class carriage. While in London the priest lived a +life of asceticism and simplicity which was not so much a considered +thing as the outcome of an absolute and unconscious carelessness about +personal and material comfort; when he went thus to a great country +house, he complied with convention because it was politic. + +He was the grandson of a peer, and, though he laughed at these small +points, he wished to meet his friend's opinions in any reasonable way, +rather than to flout them. + +The carriage was empty, though a pile of newspapers and a travelling rug +in one corner showed Father Ripon that he was to have one companion at +any rate upon the journey. + +He had bought the _Church Times_ at the bookstall and was soon deeply +immersed in the report of a Bampton Lecture delivered during the week at +the University Church in Oxford. + +Some one entered the carriage, the door was shut, and the train began to +move out of the station, but he was too interested to look up to see who +his companion might be. + +A voice broke in upon his thoughts as they were tearing through the +wide-spread slums of Bethnal Green. + +"Do you mind if I smoke, sir? This isn't a smoking carriage, but we are +alone----" + +It was an ordinary query enough. "Oh, dear, no!" said the priest. +"Please do, to your heart's content. It doesn't inconvenience _me_." + +Father Ripon's quick, breezy manner seemed to interest the stranger. He +looked up and saw a personality. Obviously this clergyman was some one +of note. The heavy brows, the hawk-like nose, the large, firm, and yet +kindly mouth, all these seemed familiar in some vague way. + +For his part, Father Ripon experienced much the same sensation as he +glanced at the tall stranger. His hair, which could be seen beneath his +ordinary hard felt hat, was dark red and somewhat abundant. His features +were Semitic, but without a trace of that fulness, and often coarseness, +which sometimes marks the Jew who has come to the period of middle life. +The large black eyes were neither dull nor lifeless, but simply cold, +irresponsive, and alert. A massive jaw completed an impression which was +remarkable in its fineness and almost sinister beauty. + +The priest found it remarkable but with no sense of strangeness. He had +seen the man before. + +Recognition came to Schuabe first. + +"Excuse me," he said, "but surely you are Father Ripon? I am Constantine +Schuabe." + +Ripon gave a merry chuckle. "I knew I knew you!" he said, "but I +couldn't think quite who you were for a moment. Sir Michael tells me +you're going to Fencastle; so am I." + +Schuabe leaned back in his seat and regarded Father Ripon with a steady +and calm scrutiny, somewhat with the manner of a naturalist examining a +curious specimen, with a suggestion of aloofness in his eyes. + +Suddenly Father Ripon smiled rather sternly, and the deep furrows which +sprang into his cheeks showed the latent strength and power of the face. + +"Well, Mr. Schuabe," he said abruptly, "the train doesn't stop anywhere +for an hour, so willy-nilly you're locked up with a priest!" + +"A welcome opportunity, Father Ripon, to convince one that perhaps the +devil isn't as black as he's painted." + +"I've read your books," said Ripon, "and I believe you are sincere, Mr. +Schuabe. It's not a personal question at all. At the same time, if I had +the power, you know I should cheerfully execute you or imprison you for +life, not out of revenge for what you have done, but as a precautionary +measure. You should have no further opportunity of doing harm." He +smiled grimly as he spoke. + +"Rather severe, Father," said Schuabe laughing. "Because I find that in +a rational view of history there is no place for a Resurrection and +Ascension you would give me your blessing and an _auto da fé_!" + +"I rather believe in stern measures, sometimes," answered the clergyman, +with an underlying seriousness, though he spoke half in jest. "Not for +_all_ heretics, you know--only the dangerous ones." + +"You are afraid of _intellect_ when it is brought to bear on these +questions." + +"I thought that would be your rejoinder. Superficially it is a very +telling one, because there is nothing so insidious as a half-truth. In a +sense what you say is true. There are a great many Christians whose +faith is weak and whose natural inclinations, assisted by supernatural +temptations, are towards a life of sin. Christianity keeps them from it. +Now, your books come in the way of such people as these far more readily +and easily than works of Christian apologetics written with equal power. +An _attack_ upon our position has all the elements of popularity and +novelty. _It is more seen._ For example, ten thousand people have heard +of your _Christ Reconceived_ for every ten who know Lathom's _Risen +Master_. You have said the last word for agnosticism and made it widely +public, the Master of Trinity Hall has said the last word for +Christianity and only scholars know of it. It isn't the strength of your +case which makes you dangerous, it's the ignorance of the public and a +condition of affairs which makes it possible for you to shout loudest." + +"Well, there is at least a half-truth in what you say also, Mr. Ripon," +said Schuabe. "But you don't seem to have brought anything to eat. Will +you share my luncheon basket? There is quite enough for two people." + +Father Ripon had been called away after the early Eucharist, and had +quite forgotten to have any breakfast. + +"Thank you very much," he said; "I will. I suddenly seem to be hungry, +and after all there is scriptural precedent for spoiling the Egyptians!" + +Both laughed again, sheathed their weapons, and began to eat. + +Each of them was a man of the world, cultured, with a charming +personality. Each knew the other was impervious to attack. + +Only once, as the short afternoon was darkening and they were +approaching their destination, did Schuabe refer to controversial +subjects. The carriage was shadowed and dusky as they rushed through the +desolate fenlands. The millionaire lit a match for a cigarette, and the +sudden flare showed the priest's face, set and stern. He seemed to be +thinking deeply. + +"What would you say or do, Father Ripon," Schuabe asked, in a tone of +interested curiosity,--"What would you do if some stupendous thing were +to happen, something to occur which proved without doubt that Christ was +not divine? Supposing that it suddenly became an absolute fact, a +historical fact which every one must accept?" + +"Some new discovery, you mean?" + +"Well, if you like; never mind the actual means. Assume for a moment +that it became certain as an historical fact that the Resurrection did +not take place. I say that the ignorant love of Christ's followers +wreathed His life in legend, that the true story was from the beginning +obscured by error, hysteria, and mistake. Supposing something proved +what I say in such a way as to leave no loophole for denial. What would +you do? As a representative Churchman, what would you do? This interests +me." + +"Well, you are assuming an impossibility, and I can't argue on such a +postulate. But, if for a moment what you say _could_ happen, I might not +be able to deny these proofs, but I should never believe them." + +"But surely----" + +"Christ is _within_; I have found Him myself without possibility of +mistake; day and night I am in communion with Him." + +"Ah!" said Schuabe, dryly, "there is no convincing a person who takes +_that_ attitude. But it is rare." + +"Faith is weak in the world," said the priest, with a sigh, as the train +drew up in the little wayside station. + +A footman took their luggage to a carriage which was waiting, and they +drove off rapidly through the twilight, over the bare brown fen with a +chill leaden sky meeting it on the horizon, towards Fencastle. + +Sir Michael's house was an immemorial feature of those parts. Josiah +Manichoe, his father, had bought it from old Lord Lostorich. To this day +Sir Michael paid two pounds each year, as "Knight's fee," to the lord of +the manor at Denton, a fee first paid in 1236. As it stood now, the +house was Tudor in exterior, covering a vast area with its stately, +explicit, and yet homelike, rather than "homely," beauty. + +The interior of the house was treated with great judgment and artistic +ability. A successful effort had been made to combine the greatest +measure of modern comfort without unduly disturbing the essential +character of the place. Thus Father Ripon found himself in an ancient +bedroom with a painted ceiling and panelled walls. The furniture was in +keeping with the design, but electric lamps had been fitted to the +massive pewter sconces on the wall, and the towel-rail by the +washing-stand was made of copper tubing through which hot water passed +constantly. + +The dinner-gong boomed at eight and Ripon went down into the great hall, +where a group of people were standing round an open fire of peat and +coal. + +Mrs. Bardilly, a widowed sister of Sir Michael's, acted as hostess, a +quiet, matronly woman, very Jewish in aspect, shrewd and placid in +temper, an admirable _châtelaine_. + +Talking to her was Mrs. Hubert Armstrong, the famous woman novelist. +Mrs. Armstrong was tall and grandly built. Her grey hair was drawn over +a massive, manlike brow in smooth folds, her face was finely chiselled. +The mouth was large, rather sweet in expression, but with a slight +hinting of "superiority" in repose and condescension in movement. When +she spoke, always in full, well-chosen periods, it was with an air of +somewhat final pronouncement. She was ever _ex cathedra_. + +The lady's position was a great one. Every two or three years she +published a weighty novel, admirably written, full of real culture, and +without a trace of humour. In those productions, treatises rather than +novels, the theme was generally that of a high-bred philosophical +negation of the Incarnation. Mrs. Armstrong pitied Christians with +passionate certainty. Gently and lovingly she essayed to open blinded +eyes to the truth. With great condescension she still believed in God +and preached Christ as a mighty teacher. + +One of her utterances suffices to show the colossal arrogance--almost +laughable were it not so _bizarre_--of her intellect: + + "_The world has expanded since Jesus preached in the dim ancient + cities of the East. Men and women of to-day cannot learn the_ + complete _lesson of God from him now--indeed they could not in + those old times. But all that is most necessary in forming + character, all that makes for pureness and clarity of soul--this + Jesus has still for us as he had for the people of his own time._" + +After the enormous success of her book, _John Mulgrave_, Mrs. Armstrong +more than half believed she had struck a final blow at the errors of +Christianity. + +Shrewd critics remarked that _John Mulgrave_ described the perversion of +the hero with great skill and literary power, while quite forgetting to +recapitulate the arguments which had brought it about. + +The woman was really educated, but her success was with half-educated +readers. Her works excited to a sort of frenzy clergymen who realised +their insidious hollowness. Her success was real; her influence appeared +to be real also. It was a deplorable fact that she swayed fools. + +By laying on the paint very thick and using bright colours, Mrs. +Armstrong caught the class immediately below that which read the works +of Constantine Schuabe. They were captain and lieutenant, formidable in +coalition. + +A short, carelessly dressed man--his evening tie was badly arranged and +his trousers were ill cut--was the Duke of Suffolk. His face was covered +with dust-coloured hair, his eyes bright and restless. The Duke was the +greatest Roman Catholic nobleman in England. His vast wealth and eager, +though not first-class, brain were devoted entirely to the conversion of +the country. He was beloved by men of all creeds. + +Canon Walke, the great popular preacher, was a handsome man, portly, +large, and gracious in manner. He was destined for high preferment, a +_persona grata_ at Court, suave and redolent of the lofty circles in +which he moved. + +Canon Walke was talking to Schuabe with great animation and a sort of +purring geniality. + +Dinner was a very pleasant meal. Every one talked well. Great events in +Society and politics were discussed by the people who were themselves +responsible for them. + +Here was the inner circle itself, serene, bland, and guarded from the +crowd outside. And perhaps, with the single exception of Father Ripon, +who never thought about it at all, every one was pleasantly conscious of +pulling the strings. They sat, Jove-like, kindly tolerant of lesser +mortals, discussing, over a dessert, what they should do for the world. + +At eleven nearly every one had retired for the night. Father Ripon and +his host sat talking in the library for another hour discussing church +matters. At twelve these two also retired. + +And now the great house was silent save for the bitter winter wind which +sobbed and moaned round the towers. + +It was the eve of the twelfth of December. The world was as usual and +the night came to England with no hintings of the morrow. + +Far away in Lancashire, Basil Gortre was sleeping calmly after a long, +quiet evening with Helena and her father. + +Father Ripon had said his prayers and lay half dreaming in bed, watching +the firelight glows and shadows on the panelling and listening to the +fierce outside wind as if it were a lullaby. + +Mrs. Hubert Armstrong was touching up an article for the _Nineteenth +Century_ in her bedroom. An open volume of Renan stood by her side; here +and there the lady deftly paraphrased a few lines. Occasionally she +sipped a cup of black-currant tea--an amiable weakness of this paragon +when engaged upon her stirring labours. + +In the next room Schuabe, with haggard face and twitching lips, paced +rapidly up and down. From the door to the dressing-table--seven steps. +From there to the fireplace--ten steps--avoiding the flower pattern of +the carpet, stepping only on the blue squares. Seven! ten! and then back +again. + +Ten, seven, turn. A cold, soft dew came out upon his face, dried, +hardened, and burst forth again. + +Seven, ten, stop for a glass of water, and then on again, rapidly, +hurriedly; the dawn is coming very near. + +Ten! seven! turn! + + + + +CHAPTER III + +"I, JOSEPH" + + +At about nine o'clock the next morning there was a knock at Father +Ripon's door and Lindner, Sir Michael's confidential man, entered. + +He seemed slightly agitated. + +"I beg your pardon, Father," he said, "but Sir Michael instructed me to +come to you at once. Sir Michael begs that you will read the columns +marked in this paper and then join him at once in his own room." + +The man bowed slightly and went noiselessly away. + +Impressed with Lindner's manner, Father Ripon sat up in bed and opened +the paper. It was a copy of the _Daily Wire_ which had just arrived by +special messenger from the station. + +The priest's eyes fell first upon the news summary. A paragraph was +heavily scored round with ink. + + "_Page 7._--A communication of the utmost gravity and importance + reaches us from Palestine, dealing with certain discoveries at + Jerusalem, made by Mr. Cyril Hands, the agent of the Palestine + Exploring Fund, and Herr Schmöulder, the famous German historian." + +Ripon turned hastily to the seventh page of the paper, where all the +foreign telegrams were. This is what he read: + + "NOTE + + "_In reference to the following statements, the Editor wishes it to + be distinctly understood that he prints them without comment or + bias. Nothing can yet be definitely known as to the truth of what + is stated here until the strictest investigations have been made. + Our special Commissioner left London for the East twenty-four hours + ago. The Editor of this paper is in communication with the Prime + Minister and His Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury. A special + edition of the 'Daily Wire' will be published at two o'clock this + afternoon._ + + "MOMENTOUS NEWS FROM JERUSALEM + + "For the last three months, under a new firman granted by the + Turkish Government, the authorities of the Palestine Exploring + Society have been engaged in extensive operations in the waste + ground beyond the Damascus Gate at Jerusalem. + + "It is in this quarter, as archæologists and students will be + aware, that some years ago the reputed site of Calvary and the Holy + Sepulchre was placed. Considerable discussion was raised at the + time and the evidence for and against the new and the traditional + sites was hotly debated. + + "Ten days ago, Mr. Cyril Hands, M.A., the learned and trusted + English explorer, made a further discovery which may prove to be + far-reaching in its influence on Christian peoples. + + "During the excavations a system of tombs were discovered, dating + from forty or fifty years before Christ, according to Mr. Hands's + estimate. The tombs are indisputably Jewish and not Christian, a + fact which is proved by the presence of _kôkîm_, characteristic of + Jewish tombs in preference to the usual Christian _arcosolia_. They + are Herodian in character. + + "These tombs consist of an irregularly cut group of two chambers. + The door is coarsely moulded. Both chambers are crooked, and in + their floors are four-sided depressions, 1 foot 2 inches deep in + the outer, 2 feet in the inner chamber. The roof of the outer + chamber is 6 feet above its floor, that of the inner 5 feet 2 + inches. + + "The doorway leading to the inner tomb was built up into stone + blocks. Fragments of that coating of broken brick and pounded + pottery, which is still used in Palestine under the name _hamra_, + which lay at the foot of the sealed entrance, showed that it had at + one time been plastered over, and was in the nature of a secret + room. + + "In the depression in the floor of the outer room was found a + minute fragment of a glass receptacle containing a small quantity + of blackish powder. This has been analysed by M. Constant Allard, + the French chemist. The glass vessel he found to be an ordinary + silicate which had become devitrified and coloured by oxide of + iron. The contents were finely divided lead and traces of antimony, + showing it to be one of the cosmetics prepared for purposes of + sepulture. + + "When the interior of the second tomb had been reached, a single + _loculus_ or stone slab for the reception of a body was found. + + "Over the _loculus_ the following Greek inscription in uncial + characters was found in a state of good preservation, with the + exception of two letters: + + "[_See drawing of inscription on this page, made from photographs + in our possession. We print the inscription below in cursive Greek + text, afterwards dividing it into its component words and giving + its translation.--Editor, Daily Wire._] + + + FACSIMILE IN MODERN GREEK SCRIPT + + =Egôiôsêphoapoarimatheiaslabô + ntosômatouiêsoutouapona** + retapotoumnêmeiouopoutoprôt + onekeitoentôtopôtoutôenekrypsa= + + **=lacunæ of two letters. + + + FINAL READING OF THE INSCRIPTION + + =Egô Iôsêph ho apo Arimatheias labôn to sôma tou Iêsou + tou apo Na[za]ret apo tou mnêmeiou hopou to prôton + ekeito en tô topô toutô enekrypsa= + + [] = letters supplied. + + + "TRANSLATION INTO ENGLISH OF THE INSCRIPTION + + "I, JOSEPH OF ARIMATHÆA, TOOK THE BODY OF + JESUS, THE NAZARENE, FROM THE TOMB WHERE IT + WAS FIRST LAID AND HID IT IN THIS PLACE. + + + "The slight mould on the stone slab, which may or may not be that + of a decomposed body, has been reverently gathered into a sealed + vessel by Mr. Hands, who is waiting instructions. + + "Dr. Schmöulder, the famous _savant_ from Berlin, has arrived at + Jerusalem, and is in communication with the German Emperor + regarding the discovery. + + "At present it would be presumptuous and idle to comment upon these + stupendous facts. It seems our duty, however, to quote a final + passage from Mr. Hands's communication, and to state that we have a + cablegram in our possession from Dr. Schmöulder, which states that + he is in entire agreement with Mr. Hands's conclusions. + + "To sum up. There now seems no shadow of doubt that the + disappearance of The Body of Christ from the first tomb is + accounted for, and that the Resurrection as told in the Gospels did + not take place. Joseph of Arimathæa here confesses that he stole + away the body, probably in order to spare the Disciples and friends + of the dead Teacher, with whom he was in sympathy, the shame and + misery of the final end to their hopes. + + "The use of the first aorist '=enekrypsa=,' 'I hid,' seems to + indicate that Joseph was making a confession to satisfy his own + mind, with a very vague idea of it ever being read. Were his + confession written for future ages, we may surmise that the perfect + '=kekrypha=,' 'I have hidden,' would have been used." + +So the simple, bald narrative ended, without a single attempt at +sensationalism on the part of the newspaper. + +Just as Father Ripon laid down the newspaper, with shaking hands and a +pallid face, Sir Michael Manichoe strode into the room. + +Tears of anger and shame were in his eyes, he moved jerkily, +automatically, without volition. His right arm was sawing the air in +meaningless gesticulation. + +He glanced furtively at Father Ripon and then sank into a chair by the +bedside. + +The clergyman rose and dressed hastily. "We will speak of this in the +library," he said, controlling himself by a tremendous effort. +"Meanwhile----" + +He took some sal volatile from his dressing-case, gave some to his host, +and drank some also. + +As they went down-stairs a brilliant sun streamed into the great hall. +The world outside was bright and frost-bound. + +The bell of the private chapel was tolling for matins. + +The sound struck on both their brains very strangely. Sir Michael +shuddered and grew ashen grey. Ripon recovered himself first. + +He placed his arm in his host's and turned towards the passage which led +to the chapel. + +"Come, my friend," he said in low, sweet tones, "come to the altar. Let +us pray together for Christendom. Peace waits us. Say the creed with me, +for God will not desert us." + +They passed into the vaulted chapel with the seven dim lamps burning +before the altar, and knelt down in the chancel stalls. Some of the +servants came in and then the chaplain began the confession. + +The stately monotone went on, echoing through the damp breath of the +morning. + +Father Ripon and Sir Michael turned to the east. The sun was pouring +through the great window of stained glass, where Christ was painted +ascending to heaven. + +The two elderly men said the creed after the priest in firm, almost +triumphant voices: + +"I believe in God the Father ... and in Jesus Christ His only Son our +Lord.... The third day he arose again from the dead. He ascended into +heaven...." + + * * * * * + +And those two, as they came gravely out of church and walked to the +library, _knew_ that a great and awful lie was resounding through the +world, for the Risen Christ had spoken with them, bidding them be of +good courage for what was to come. + +The voice of Peter called down the ages: + + "This Jesus hath God raised up, whereof we are all witnesses." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE DOMESTIC CHAPLAIN'S TESTIMONY + + +When Mrs. Armstrong came down to breakfast her hostess told her, with +many apologies, that Sir Michael had left for London with Father Ripon. +They had gone by an early train. Matters of great moment were afoot. + +As this was being explained Mr. Wilson, the private chaplain, Schuabe, +and Canon Walke entered the room. The Duke of Suffolk did not appear. + +A long, low room panelled in white, over which a huge fire of logs cast +occasional cheery reflections, was used as a breakfast-room. Here and +there the quiet simplicity of the place was violently disturbed by great +gouts of colour, startling notes which, so cunningly had they been +arranged in alternate opulence and denial, were harmonised with their +background. + +A curtain of Tyrian purple, a sea picture full of gloom and glory, red +light and wind; a bronze head, with brilliant, lifelike enamel eyes, the +features swollen and brutal, from Sabacio--these were the means used by +the young artist employed by Sir Michael to decorate the room. + +The long windows, hewn out of a six-foot wall, presented a sombre vista +of great leafless trees standing in the trackless snow, touched here and +there with the ruddiness of the winter sun. + +The glowing fire, the luxurious domesticity of the round table, with +its shining silver and gleaming china, the great quiet of the park +outside, gave a singular peace and remoteness to the breakfast-room. +Here one seemed far away from strife and disturbance. + +This was the usual aspect and atmosphere of all Fencastle, but as the +members of the house-party came together for the meal the air became +suddenly electrified. Invisible waves of excitement, of surmise, doubt, +and fear radiated from these humans. All had seen the paper, and though +at first not one of them referred to it, the currents of tumult and +alarm were knocking loudly at heart and brain, varied and widely diverse +as were the emotions of each one. + +Mrs. Hubert Armstrong at length broke the silence. Her speech was +deliberate, her words were chosen with extreme care, her tone was hushed +and almost reverential. + +"To-day," she said, "what I perceive we have all heard, may mean the +sudden dawning of a New Light in the world. If this stupendous statement +is true--and it bears every hall-mark of the truth even at this early +stage--a new image of Jesus of Nazareth will be for ever indelibly +graven on the hearts of mankind. That image which thought, study, and +research have already made so vivid to some of us will be common to the +world. The old, weary superstitions will vanish for all time. The real +significance of the anthropomorphic view will be clear at last. The +world will be able to realise the Real Figure as It went in and out +among Its brother men." + +She spoke with extreme earnestness. No doubt she saw in this marvellous +historical confirmation of her attitude a triumph for the school of +which she had become the vocal chieftainess, that would ring and glitter +through the world of thought. The mental arrogance which had already led +this woman so far was already busy, opening a vista that had suddenly +become extremely dazzling, imminently near. + +At her words there was a sudden movement of relief among the others. The +ice had been broken; formless and terrifying things assumed a shape that +could be handled, discussed. Her words acted as a precipitate, which +made analysis possible. + +The lady's calm, intellectual face, with its clear eyes and smooth bands +of hair, waited with interest, but without impatience, for other views. + +Canon Walke took up her challenge. His words were assured enough, but +Schuabe, listening with keen and sinister attention, detected a faint +tremble, an alarmed lack of conviction. The courtier-Churchman, with his +commanding presence, his grand manner, spoke without pedantry, but also +without real force. His language was beautifully chosen, but it had not +the ring of utter conviction, of passionate rejection of all that warred +with Faith. + +A chaplain of the Court, the husband of an earl's daughter, a friend of +royal folk, a future bishop, there were those who called him +time-serving, exclusively ambitious. Schuabe realised that not here, +indeed, was the great champion of Christianity. For a brief moment the +Jew's mind flashed to a memory of the young curate at Manchester, then, +with a little shudder of dislike, he bent his attention to Canon Walke's +words. + +"No, Mrs. Armstrong," he was saying, "an article such as this in a +newspaper will be dangerous; it will unsettle weak brains for a time +until it is proved, as it will be proved, either a blasphemous +fabrication or an ignorant mistake. It cannot be. Whatever the upshot of +such rumours, they can only have a temporary effect. It may be that +those at the head of the Church will have to sit close, to lay firm hold +of principles, or anything that will steady the vessel as the storm +sweeps up. This may be an even greater tempest than that which broke +upon the Church in the days of the first George, when Christianity was +believed to be fictitious. What did Bishop Butler say to his chaplain? +He asked: 'What security is there against the insanity of individuals? +The doctors know of none. Why, therefore, may not whole communities be +seized with fits of insanity as well as individuals?' It is just that +which will account for so much history tells us of wild revolt against +Truth. It may be--God grant that it will not--that we are once more upon +the eve of one of these storms. But, despite your anticipations, Mrs. +Armstrong, you will see that the Church, as she has ever done, will +weather the storm. I myself shall leave for town at mid-day, and follow +the example of our host. My place is there. The Archbishop will, +doubtless, hold a conference, if this story from Palestine seems to +receive further confirmation. Such dangerous heresies must not be +allowed to spread." + +Then Schuabe took up the discussion. "I fear for you, Canon Walke," he +said, "and for the Church you represent. This news, it seems to me, is +merely the evidence for the confirmation of what all thoughtful men +believe to-day, though the majority of them do not speak out. There is a +natural dislike to active propaganda, a timidity in combination to upset +a system which is accepted, and which provides society as an ethical +programme, though founded on initial error. But now--and I agree with +Mrs. Armstrong in the extreme probability of this news being absolute +fact, for Hands and Schmöulder are names of weight--everything must be +reconstructed and changed. The churches will go. Surely the times are +ripe, the signs unmistakable? We are face to face with what is called an +anti-clerical wave--a dislike to the clergy as the representatives of +the Church, a dislike to the Church as the embodiment of religion, a +dislike to religion as an unwelcome restraint upon liberty of thought. +The storm which will burst now has been muttering and gathering here in +England no less than on the Continent. You have heard its murmur in the +debates on the Education Act, in the proposed State legislation for your +Church. Your most venerable and essential forms are like trees creaking +and groaning in the blast; public opinion is rioting to destroy. But +perhaps until this morning it has never had a weapon strong enough to +attack such a stronghold as the Church with any hope of victory. There +has been much noise, but that is all. It has been a matter of _feeling_; +_conviction_ has been weak, because it could only be supported by +probabilities, not by certainties. The antichristian movement has been +guided by emotions, hardly by principles. At last the great discovery +which will rouse the world to sanity appears to have been made. Even as +I speak in this quiet room the whole world is thrilling with this news. +It is awakening from a long slumber." + +Walke heard his ringing words with manifest uneasiness. The man was +unequal to the situation. He represented the earthly pomp and show of +Christianity, wore the ceremonial vestments. He feared the concrete +power, the vehement opposition of the mouthpiece of secularism. He saw +the crisis, but from one side only. The deep spiritual love was not +there. + +"You are exultant, Mr. Schuabe," he said coldly, "but you will hardly be +so long." + +"You do not appreciate the situation, sir," Schuabe answered. "I can see +further than you. A great intellectual peace will descend over the +civilised world. Should one not exult at that, even though men must give +up their dearest fetishes, their secret shrines; even though sentiment +must be sacrificed to Truth? The religion of Nature, which is based +upon the determination not to believe anything which is unsupported by +indubitable evidence, will become the faith of the future, the +fulfilment of progress. It is as Huxley said, '_Religion ought to mean +simply reverence and love for the Ethical Ideal, and the desire to +realise that Ideal in life._' Miracles do not happen. There has been no +supernatural revelation, and nothing can be known of what Herbert +Spencer calls the Infinite and Eternal Energy save by the study of the +phenomena about us. And I repeat that the discovery we hear of to-day +makes a thorough intellectual sanity possible for each living man. Doubt +will disappear." + +"Yes, Mr. Schuabe," said Mrs. Armstrong, "you are right, incalculably +right. It is to human intellect and that alone--the great Intellect of +The Nazarene among others--that we must look from henceforth. Already by +his unaided efforts man's achievements are everywhere breaking down +superstition. The arts, the laws of gravitation, force, light, heat, +sound, chemistry, electricity, and all that these imply--botany, +medicine, bacteria, the circulation of the blood, the functions of the +brain and nervous system (last-named abolishing all witchcraft and +diabolic possession, such as we read of in the 'inspired' writings)--all +these are but incidents in a progress never aided by the supernatural, +but always impeded by the professors of it. Christians tortured the man +who discovered the rotation of the earth, and in every church to-day +absolutely false accounts of the origin of the world are publicly read. +And as long as the world was content to believe that Jesus rose from the +dead so long error has hindered development." + +"Yes," replied Schuabe, "all this will, I believe, inevitably follow the +discovery of the professors in Palestine. And what does Christianity, as +it is at present accepted, bring to the Christians? Localise it, and +look at the English Church--Canon Walke's Church. At one time every one +is a rigid Puritan and decries the bare accessories of worship, at +another a Ritualist who twists and turns everything into fantastic +shapes, as if he were furnishing an æsthetic bazaar. At another time +these people are swayed with the doctrines of 'Christian Science,' and +believe that pain is a pure trick of the diseased fancy, and matter the +morbid creation of an unhealthy mind. Then we hear priests who tell us +that the Old Testament (which in the same breath they announce to be +witnessed to by Christ and His Apostles and the unbroken continuity of +the Catholic Church) is an enlarged and plagiarised version of the days +of a fantastic god discovered on a burnt brick at Babylon. And others +sit anxiously waiting to know the precise value which this or that +Gospel may possess, as its worth fluctuates like shares in the money +market, with the last quotation from Germany! All this will cease." + +The while these august ones had been speaking, Father Wilson, the +domestic chaplain at Fencastle, had remained silent but attentive. + +He was a lean, dark man, monk-like in appearance, somewhat saturnine on +the surface. It was Sir Michael's wish, not the chaplain's, that he +should sit with the guests as one of them, and make experience of the +great ones of the world. For he had but little interest in worldly +things or people. + +Schuabe's voice died away. Every one was a little exhausted, great +matters had been dealt with. There came a little clink and clatter as +they sought food. + +Suddenly Wilson looked up and began to speak. His voice was somewhat +harsh and unsympathetic, his manner was uncompromising and without +charm. As he spoke every one realised, with a sense of unpleasant +shock, that he cared little or nothing for the society he was in. + +"It's very interesting, sir," he said, turning to Schuabe, "to hear all +you have been saying. I have seen the paper and read of this so-called +discovery too. Of course such a thing harmonises exactly with the +opinions of those who want to believe it. But go and tell a devoted son +of the Church that he has been fed with sacraments which are no +sacraments, and all that he has done has been at best the honest mistake +of a deceived man, and he will laugh in your face, as I do! There are +memories, far back in his life, of confirmation, when his whole being +was quickened and braced, which refuse to be explained as the +hallucinations of a well-meaning but deceived man. There are memories +when Christ drew near to his soul and helped him. Struggles with +temptation are remembered when God's grace saved him. He also says, +'Whether He be a sorcerer or not I know not; one thing I know, that +whereas I was blind, now I see.' It is easy to part with one in whom we +have never really believed. We can easily surrender what we have never +held. But you haven't a notion of the real Christian's convictions, Mr. +Schuabe. Your estimate of the future is based upon utter ignorance of +the Christian's heart. You are incapable of understanding the heart to +which experience has made it clear that Jesus was indeed the very +Christ. There are many people who are _called_ Christians with whom your +sayings and writings, and those of this lady here, have great power. It +is because they have never found Christ. Unreal words, shallow emotions, +unbalanced sentiment, leave such as these without armour in a time of +tumult and conflicting cries. But if we _know_ Him, if we can look back +over a life richer and fuller because we _have_ known Him, if we know, +every man, the plague of his own heart, then your explorers may +discover anything and we shall not believe. It is easy to prophesy as +you have been doing all this meal-time--it is popular once more to shout +the malignant 'Crucify'--but events will show you how utterly wrong you +are in your estimate of the Christian character." + +They all stared at the chaplain. His sudden vigorous outburst, the +harsh, unlovely voice, the contempt in it, was almost stupefying at +first. + +Indeed, though they had certainly no cue from Sir Michael, they had +regarded the silent, rather forbidding priest, in his cassock and robe, +a dress which typified his reserve and detachment from all their +interests, in the light of an upper servant, almost. Nor was it so much +his interference they resented as his manner of interfering. The supreme +confidence of the man galled them; it was patronising in its strength. + +Mrs. Armstrong heard the outburst with a slight frown of displeasure, +which, as the priest continued, changed into a smile of kindly +tolerance, the attitude of a housemaid who spares a spider. She +remembered that, after all, her duty lay in being kind to those of less +power than herself. + +The speech touched Schuabe more nearly. He seemed to hear a familiar +echo of a voice he hated and feared. There was something chilling in +these men who drew a confidence and certainty, sublime in its +immobility, from the Unseen. He felt, as he had felt before, the hated +barrier which he could in no wise pass, this calm fanaticism which would +not even listen to him, which was beyond his influence. The bitter hate +which welled up in his heart, the terrible scorn which he had to repress +at these insults to his evil and devilish egoism, gave him almost a +sense of physical nausea. His pale face became pallid, but he showed no +other sign of the insane tempest within. He smiled slightly. That was +all. + +As for Canon Walke, his feelings were varied. His face flickered with +them in rapid alternation. He was quite conscious of the lack of life, +fire, and conviction in what he himself had said. His own windy +commonplaces shrank to nothingness and failure before the witnessing of +the undistinguished priest. Before the two hostile intellects, the man +and the woman, he had left the burden of the fight to this nobody. He +was quick and jealous to mark the strength of Wilson's words, and his +own failure had put him in an entirely false position. And yet a shrewd +blow had been struck at Schuabe and Mrs. Armstrong; there was +consolation in the fact. + +Father Wilson, when he had finished what he had to say, rose from his +seat without more ado. "I will say a grace," he said. He made the sign +of the Cross, muttered a short Latin thanksgiving, and strode from the +room. + +"A fanatic," said Mrs. Armstrong. + +Neither Walke nor Schuabe replied. + +It was getting late in the morning. The sun had risen higher and flooded +the level wastes of snow without. The little party finished their meal +in silence. + +In the chapel Wilson knelt on the chancel step, praying that help and +light might come to men and the imminent darkness pass away. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +DEUS, DEUS MEUS, QUARE DERELIQUISTI! + + +The Prime Minister was a man deeply interested in all philosophic +thought, and especially in the Christian system of philosophy. He had +written two most important books, weighty, brilliant contributions to +the mass of thought by which his school laboured to make theism +increasingly credible to the modern mind. + +He had proved that science, ethics, and theology are all open to the +same kind of metaphysical difficulties, and that, therefore, to reject +theology in the name of science was impossible. It was fortunate that, +at this juncture, such a one should be at the head of affairs. + +The vast network of cables and telegraph wires, those tentacles which +may be called the nerves of the world's brain, throbbed unceasingly +after the tremendous announcement for which Ommaney had undertaken the +responsibility. + +A battalion of special correspondents from every European and American +paper of importance followed hot upon Harold Spence's trail. + +Nevertheless, for the first two or three days the world at large hardly +realised the importance of what was happening. Nothing was certain. The +whole statement depended upon two men. To the mass of people these two +names--Hands, Schmöulder--conveyed no meaning whatever. Nine tenths of +the population of England knew nothing of the work of archæologists in +Palestine, had never even heard of the Exploring Society. + +Had Consols fallen a point or two the effect would have been far +greater, the fact would have made more stir. + +The great dailies of equal standing with the _Wire_ were making every +private preparation for a supply of news and a consensus of opinion. But +all this activity went on behind the scenes, and nothing of it was yet +allowed to transpire generally. The article in the _Wire_ was quoted +from, but opinions upon it were printed with the greatest caution and +reserve. Indeed, the general apathy of England at large was a source of +extreme wonder to the unthinking, fearing minority. + +The mass of the clergy, at any rate in public, affected to ignore, or +did really honestly dismiss as impossible, the whole question. A few +words of earnest exhortation and indignant denial were all they +permitted themselves. + +But beneath the surface, and among the real influencers of public +opinion, great anxiety was felt. + +The Patriarch of the Greek Church called a council of Bishops, and Dr. +Procopides, an ephor of antiquities from Athens, was sent immediately to +Palestine. + +The following paragraph, in substance, appeared in the leader page of +all the English papers. It was disseminated by the Press Association: + + "We are in a position to state, that in order to allay the feeling + of uneasiness produced among the churches by a recent article in + the _Daily Wire_ making extraordinary statements as to a discovery + in Jerusalem, a conference was held yesterday at Lambeth. Their + Graces the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, the Bishops of + Manchester, Gloucester, Durham, Lincoln, and London were present. + Other well-known Churchmen consisted of Sir Michael Manichoe, Lord + Robert Verulam, Canons Baragwaneth and Walke, the Dean of + Christchurch and the Master of Trinity Hall. The Prime Minister was + not present, but was represented by Mr. Alured King. Mr. Ommaney, + the editor of the _Daily Wire_, was included in the conference. + Although, from the names mentioned, it will be seen that the + conference is considered to be of great importance, nothing has + been allowed to transpire as to the result of its deliberations." + +This paragraph appeared on the morning of the third day after the +initial article. It began to attract great attention throughout the +United Kingdom during the early part of the day. + +The _Westminster Gazette_ in its third edition then published a further +statement. The public learned: + + "Professor Clermont-Ganneau, the Professor of Biblical Antiquities + at the French University of La Sorbonne, arrived in London + yesterday night. He drove straight to the house of Sir Robert + Llwellyn, the famous archæologist. Early this morning both + gentlemen drove to Downing Street, where they remained closeted + with the Prime Minister for an hour. While there, they were joined + by Dr. Grier, the learned Bishop of Leeds, and Dr. Carr, the Warden + of Wyckham College, Oxford. The four gentlemen were later driven to + Charing Cross Station in a brougham. On the platform from which the + Paris train starts they were met by Major-General Adams, the + Vice-President of the Palestine Exploring Society, and Sir Michael + Manichoe. The distinguished party entered a reserved saloon and + left, _en route_ for Paris, at mid-day. We are able to state on + undeniable authority that the party, which represents all that is + most authoritative in historical research and archæological + knowledge, are a committee from a recent conference at Lambeth, and + are proceeding to Jerusalem to investigate the alleged discovery in + the Holy City." + +This was the prominent announcement, made on the afternoon of the third +day, which began to quicken interest and excite the minds of people in +England. + +All that evening countless families discussed the information with +curious unrest and foreboding. In all the towns the churches were +exceptionally full at evensong. One fact was more discussed than any +other, more particularly in London. + +Although the six men who had left England so suddenly, almost furtively, +were obviously on a mission of the highest importance, no reputable +paper published more than the bare fact of their departure. Comment upon +it, more detailed explanation of it, was sought in the columns of all +the journals in vain. + +The next morning was big with shadow and gloom. A shudder passed over +the country. Certain telegrams appeared in all the papers which struck a +chill of fear to the very heart of all who read them, Christian and +indifferent alike. + +It was as though a great and ominous bell had begun to toll over the +world. + +The faces of people in the streets were universally pale. + +It was remarked that the noises of London, the traffic, the movement of +crowds engaged upon their daily business, lost half their noise. + +The shops were full of Christmas gifts, but no one seemed to enter them. + +In addition to the telegrams a single leading article appeared in the +_Daily Wire_, which burnt itself, as the extremest cold burns, into the +brains of Englishmen. + + + "(1) TERRIBLE RIOTS IN JERUSALEM + + "The French Consul-General and Staff, who were paying a ceremonial + visit to the Latin Patriarch, have been attacked by fanatical + Moslems, and only escaped from the fury of the crowd with great + difficulty, aided by the Turkish Guards. A vast concourse of + Armenian Christians, Russian pilgrims, and Aleppine Greeks + afterwards gathered round the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The + strange discovery said to have been made by the English excavator, + Mr. Hands, and the German Doctor Schmöulder, has aroused the mob to + furious protest against it. For nearly an hour fervent cries of + '_Hadda Kuber Saidna_,' 'This is the tomb of our Lord,' filled all + the air. The Mohammedans and lower-class Jews made a wild attack + upon the protesting Christians in the courtyard of the church. Many + hundreds are dead and dying. + + "REUTER." + + "LATER.--Strong drafts of Turkish troops have marched into + Jerusalem. By special order from the Sultan to the Governor of the + city, the 'New Tomb,' discovered by Mr. Hands and Doctor + Schmöulder, is guarded by a triple cordon of troops. The two + gentlemen are guests of the Governor. The concentration of troops + round the 'New Tomb' has left various portions of the city + unguarded. Naked Mohammedan fanatics, armed with swords, are + calling for a general massacre of Christians. The city is in a + state of utter anarchy. By the Jaffa gate and round the Mosque of + Omar the dervishes are preaching massacre." + + + "(2) SIR ROBERT LLWELLYN'S PARTY TO BE CONVEYED IN A WAR-SHIP + + "MALTA.--Orders have been received here from the Admiralty that the + gunboat _Velox_ is to proceed at once to Alexandria, there to + await the coming of Sir Robert Llwellyn and the other members of + the English Commission by the Indian mail steamer from Brindisi. + The _Velox_ will then leave at once for Jaffa with the six + gentlemen. At Jaffa an escort of mounted Turkish troops will + accompany the party on the day's ride to Jerusalem." + + + "(3) BERLIN.--The German Emperor has convened the principal clergy + of the empire to meet him in conference at Potsdam. The conference + will sit with closed doors." + + + "(4) ROME.--A decree, or short letter, has just been issued from + the Vatican to all the 'Patriarchs, Primates, Archbishops, Bishops + and other local ordinaries having peace and communion with the Holy + See.' The decree deals with the alleged discoveries in Jerusalem. + In it Catholics are forbidden to read newspaper accounts of the + proceedings in Palestine, nor may they discuss them with their + friends. The decree has had the effect of drawing great attention + to the affairs in the East, and has excited much adverse comment + among the secularist party, and in the _Voce della Populo_." + + +Quite suddenly, as if a curtain were withdrawn, the world began to +realise the fact that something almost beyond imagination was taking +place in the far-off Syrian town. + +These detached and sinister messages which flashed along the cables, +with their stories of princes and potentates alarmed and active, made +the general silence, the lack of detail, more oppressive. The unknown, +or dimly guessed at, rather, laid hold on men's minds like some mighty +convulsion of nature, imminent, and presaged by fearful signs. Thus the +_Daily Wire_: + + "The story of the recent gathering of great Churchmen at Lambeth + has not yet been made public, but there can be little doubt in the + minds of those who watch events that it must eventually take a + place among the great historical occurrences of the world's + history. While the men and women of England were going to and fro + about their business, the ecclesiastical princes of this realm were + met together in doubt, astonishment, and fear, confronted with a + problem so tremendous that we find comment upon it presents almost + insuperable difficulties. + + "We do not therefore propose to take the widest view of probable + contingencies and events, for that would be impossible within the + limits of a single article. It must be enough that with a sense of + the profoundest responsibility, and with the deep emotions which + must arise in the heart of every man who is confronted by a vast + and sudden overthrow of one of the binding forces of life, we + briefly recapitulate the events of the last few days, and attempt a + forecast of what we fear must lie before us here in England. + + "Four days ago we published in these columns the first account of a + discovery made by Mr. Cyril Hands, M.A., and confirmed by Dr. + Herman Schmöulder, in the red earth _débris_ by the 'Tombs of the + Kings,' beyond the Damascus gate of Jerusalem. The news arrived at + this office through a private channel, in the form of a long and + detailed account written by Mr. Hands, the archæologist and agent + of the Palestine Exploring Society. Before publishing the statement + the editor was enabled to discuss the advisability of doing so with + the Prime Minister. A long series of telegrams passed between the + office of this paper, the Foreign Office, and the gentlemen at + Jerusalem during the day preceding our publication of the document. + Hour by hour new details and a mass of contributory evidence came + to hand. All these papers, together with photographs, drawings, + and measurements, were placed by us in the hands of the Archbishop + of Canterbury. A conference of the greatest living English scholars + was summoned. The result of that meeting has been that a committee + representing the finest intellect and the most unsullied integrity + is now on its way to Jerusalem. Upon the verdict of Sir Robert + Llwellyn and his fellow-members, together with the distinguished + foreign _savants_ M. Clermont-Ganneau and Dr. Procopides, the + Ephor-General of Antiquities in the Athens Museum, the Christian + world must wait with terrible anxiety, but with a certainty that + the highest human intelligence is concentrated on its deliberation. + + "What that verdict will be, seems, it must be boldly said and + faced, almost a foregone conclusion. We feel that we should be + lacking in our duty to our readers were we to withhold from them + certain facts. Not unnaturally His Grace the Archbishop and many of + his advisers have wished the press to preserve a complete silence + as to the result of the conference, a silence which should continue + until the report of the International Committee of Investigation is + published. We have endeavoured to preserve a reticence for two + days, but at this juncture it becomes our duty to inform the people + of England what we know. And we do not take this step without + careful consideration. + + "We have informed the Prime Minister of our intention, and may + state that, despite the opposition of the Church Party, Lord ---- + is in sympathy with it. + + "Briefly, then, Sir Robert Llwellyn, the acknowledged leader of + archæological research, has given it as his opinion that Mr. + Hands's discovery must be genuine. Sir Robert alone has had the + courage to speak out bravely, though he did so with manifest + emotion and reluctance. The other members of the conference have + refused to express an opinion, though of at least three from among + their number there can be little doubt that they concur with Sir + Robert's view. + + "Private telegrams, which we have hitherto refrained from + publishing, show that the cultured people of Germany, from the + Emperor downwards, are persuaded that the story of Jesus of + Nazareth has at last been told. Many of the most eminent public men + of France agree with this view. These are statements borne out by + the evidence of our correspondents in foreign capitals who have + secured a series of interviews with those who represent public + opinion of the expert kind. + + "The Roman Church, on the other hand, with that supreme isolation + and historic indifference to all that helps the cause of Progress + and Truth, has not only loftily declined to recognise the fact that + any discovery has been made at all, has not only absolutely + declined to be represented at Jerusalem, but has issued a + proclamation forbidding Roman Catholics to think of or discuss the + events which are shaking the fabric of Christendom. + + "In saying as much as we have already said, in placing our + melancholy conviction on record in this way, we lay ourselves open + to the charge of prejudging the most important decision affecting + the welfare of mankind that any body of men have ever been called + upon to make. Not even the startling and overwhelming mass of + support we have received would have led us to do this were it not + our conviction that it is the wisest course to pursue in regard to + what we feel almost certain will happen in the future. It seems far + better to prepare the minds of Christian English men and women for + the terrible shock that they will have to endure by a more gradual + system of disclosure than would be possible were we to adopt the + suggestion of the bishops and keep silent. + + "And now, in the concluding portion of this article, we must + briefly consider what the news that it has been our responsible and + painful duty to give first to the world will mean to England. + + "We fear that the mental anguish of countless thousands must for a + time cloud the life of our country as it has never been clouded and + darkened before. The proof that the Divinity of the Greatest and + Wisest Teacher the world has ever known, or ever will know, is but + a symbolic fable, will for a time overwhelm the world. A great + upheaval of English society is beginning. Old and venerated + institutions will be swept away, minds fed upon the Christian + theory from youth, instinct with all its hereditary tradition, will + be for a while as men groping in the dark. But the light will come + after this great tempest, and it will be a broader, finer, more + steadfast light than before, because founded on, and springing + from, Eternal Truth. The mission of beneficent illusion is over. + Error will yet linger for a generation or two. That much is + certain. There will be more who will base their objections to the + New Revelation upon 'the unassailable and ultimate reality of + personal spiritual experience,' forgetting the psychological + influences of hereditary training, which have alone produced those + experiences. But, alas! the knell of the old and beautiful + superstitions is ringing. The Doom is begun. The Judge is set, who + shall stay it? Let us rather turn from the saddening spectacle of a + fallen creed and rejoice that the 'Infinite and eternal energy' men + and have called God--Jah-weh, =theos=--that mysterious law of + Progress evolution, is about to reveal man to himself more than ever + completely in its destruction of an imagined revelation." + +During the afternoon preceding the publication of the above article, the +three principal proprietors had met at the offices of the paper and had +held a long conference with Mr. Ommaney, the editor. + +It had been decided, as a matter of policy and in order to maintain the +leading position already given to the paper by the first publication of +Hands's dispatch, that a strong and definite line should be taken at +once. + +The other great journals were already showing signs of a cautious +"trimming" policy, which would allow them to take up any necessary +attitude events might dictate. They feared to be explicit, to speak out. +So they would lose the greater glory. + +Once more commercial and political influences were at work, as they had +been two thousand years before. The little group of Jewish millionaires +who sat in Ommaney's room had their prototypes in the times of Christ's +Passion. Men of the modern world were once more enacting the awful drama +of the Crucifixion. + +Constantine Schuabe was among the group; his words had more weight than +any others. The largest holding in the paper was his. The tentacles of +this man were far-reaching and strong. + +"For my part, gentlemen," Ommaney said, "I am entirely with Mr. Schuabe. +I agree with him that we should at once take the boldest possible +attitude. Sir Robert's opinion before he left was conclusive. We shall +therefore publish a leader to-morrow taking up our standpoint. We will +have it quite plain and simple. Strong and simple, but with no +subtleties to puzzle and obscure the ordinary reader. It's no use to +touch on history or metaphysics, or anything but pure simplicity." + +"Then, Mr. Ommaney," Schuabe had said, "since we are exactly agreed on +the best thing to do, and since these other gentlemen are prepared to +leave the thing in our hands, if you will allow me I will write the +leading article myself." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + HARNESS THE HORSES; AND GET UP, YE HORSEMEN, AND STAND FORTH WITH + YOUR HELMETS; FURBISH THE SPEARS, AND PUT ON THE BRIGANDINES.--JER. + XLVI: 4 + +Father Ripon sat alone in his study at the Clergy House of St. Mary's. +The room was quite silent, save for the occasional dropping of a coal +upon the hearth, where a bright, clear fire glowed. + +Three walls of the room were lined with books. There was no carpet on +the floor; the bare boards showed, except for a strip of worn matting in +front of the little cheap brass fender. Over the mantel a great crucifix +hung on the bare wall, painted, or rather washed with dark red colour. + +The few chairs which stood about were all old-fashioned and rather +uncomfortable. A great writing-table was covered with papers and books. +Two candles stood upon it and gave light to the room. The only other +piece of furniture was a deal praying-stool, with a Bible and +prayer-book upon the ledge. + +A rugged, ascetic place, four walls to work and pray in, with just the +necessary tools and no more. Yet there was no _affectation_ of +asceticism, the effect was not a considered one in any way. For example, +there was an oar, with college arms painted on one blade, leaning +against the wall, a memory of old days when Father Ripon had rowed four +and his boat at Oxford had got to the head of the river one Eight's +week. The oar looked as if it were waiting to be properly hung on the +wall as a decorative trophy, which indeed it was. But it had been +waiting for seven years. The priest never had time to nail it up. He did +not despise comfort or decoration, pretend to a pose of rigidness; he +simply hadn't the time for it himself. That was all. He was always +promising himself to put up--for example--a pair of crimson curtains a +sister had sent him months back. But whenever he really determined to +get them out and hang them, some sudden call came and he had to rush out +and save a soul. + +Father Ripon looked ill and worn. A pamphlet, a long, thin book bound in +blue paper, with the Royal Arms on the top of the folio, lay upon the +table. It was the report of the Committee of Investigation, and the +whole world was ringing with it. + +The report had now appeared for two days. + +The priest took up _The Tower_, a weekly paper, the official organ, not +of the pious Evangelical party within the Church, but of the +ultra-Protestant. + +His hand shook with anger and disgust as he read, for the third time, +the leading article printed in large type, with wider spaces than usual +between the lines: + + "We have hitherto refrained from any comment on the marvellous + discovery in Jerusalem, being content simply to record the progress + of the investigations, which have at last satisfied us that a + genuine discovery has been made. + + "In the daily special issues of the organs of the sacerdotal party + we find much more freedom of expression. They have run the whole + gamut--Disbelief, Doubt, Desolation, Detraction, Demoralisation, + and Dismay. Rome and Ritualism have received a shock which + demolishes and destroys the very foundation of their sinful + system. + + "Carnal in its conception it cannot survive. + + "'The worship of the corporeal presence of Christ's natural flesh + and blood' (_vide_ the so-called _Black_ rubric at the end of the + order of the administration of the Lord's Supper) was always + prohibited in the Protestant Reformed Communion, but this + idolatrous practice has been the glory and boast of Babylon, and + the aim and object of the Traitors, within the Established Church + of England, whom we have habitually denounced.' + + "'The times of this ignorance God winked at, but now commandeth all + men everywhere to repent.' + + "Hidden by the Divine Providence till the fulness of time, a simple + inscription has taught us the full meaning of Paul's mysterious + words, 'Yea, though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now + henceforth know we Him no more.'--2 Cor. v. 16. + + "Paul and Protestantism are vindicated at last. 'There is a natural + body and there is a spiritual body.' The spiritual body that + manifested the resurrection of Jesus to His disciples has too long + been identified with the natural body that was piously laid to rest + by Joseph and Nicodemus. Much that has been obscure in the Gospel + narratives is now explained. + + "Men have always wondered that the Apostles, in preaching their + risen Lord, attempted no explanation of His manifestations of + Himself. + + "We can understand now why it was that they were divinely protected + from imagining that the spiritual Body is a dead body revived. + + "How often have perplexed believers been troubled by the questions + of our modern scientists as to the physical possibilities of a + future resurrection of the body! The material substance of humanity + is resolved into its elements, and again and again through the + centuries is employed in other organisms. + + "'How then,' men have asked, 'can you believe that the body you + have deposited beneath the earth shall collect from the universe + its dissipated particles and rise again?' + + "Hitherto we have been content to put the question aside with a + simple faith that 'with God all things are possible.' But to-day we + are enabled to have a further comprehension of the Lord's words, + 'It is the spirit that quickeneth, the flesh profiteth nothing.' + + "Doubtless those who, even among our own company of Evangelical + Protestants, have attached too much importance to the teaching of + the so-called 'Fathers of the Church' (who so early corrupted the + sweet simplicity of the Gospel) will find themselves compelled to a + more spiritual explanation of some passages of Holy Scripture; but + Faith will find little difficulty in rightly dividing and + interpreting the word of Truth. + + "The Protestant cause has little to fear from facts. We have been + by God's Providence gradually prepared for a great elucidation of + the truth about the Resurrection. + + "Those who studied with attention the treatise of the late + Frederick W. H. Myers (the man who, of all moderns, has best + appreciated the personality of Paul the apostle) had come to a + conviction on the survival of Human Personality after death on + scientific grounds. + + "The Resurrection of the Lord Jesus was no longer to them 'a thing + incredible,' its unique character was recognised as consisting in + its spiritual power. + + "'Some doubted,' as on the mountain in Galilee. Protestantism on + the Continent, especially in Germany, the home of what is misnamed + the 'Higher Criticism,' has been hampered in this way by the study + of the 'letter,' and so in some degree has lost the assistance of + 'the spirit which giveth life.' + + "But the great heart of Protestant England is still sound, and + whilst Rome and Ritualism are aghast as the foundation of their + fabric of lies crumbles into dust, we stand sure and steadfast, + rejoicing in hope. + + "Some readjustment of formularies may be conceded to weak brethren. + + "Our great Reformers drew up that marvellous manifesto of the + Protestant faith--'Articles agreed upon by the archbishops and + bishops of Both Provinces, and the whole clergy in the Convocation + holden at London in the year 1562 for the avoiding of diversities + of opinions, and for the establishing of consent touching True + Religion.' + + "England was at that time--alas, how often has it been + so!--inclined to compromise. + + "There were timid men amongst the great divines who brought us out + of Babylon, and the 4th article of the Thirty-nine was notoriously + drawn up in antagonism to the teaching of the holy Silesian + nobleman, Caspar Schwenckfeld, to satisfy the scruples of the + sacerdotal party, which clung to the benefices of the Establishment + then as now. + + "The omission of twelve words would remove all doubt as to its + interpretation. We may be content to affirm that 'Christ did truly + rise again from death' without stating further 'and took again his + body with flesh, bones, and all things appertaining.' + + "It has always been the curse of Christendom that man desired to + express in words the ineffable. + + "'Intruding into those things which he hath not seen, vainly puffed + up by his fleshly mind.' + + "But it need not now be difficult with the aid of a Protestant + Parliament, which has so recently and so gloriously determined on + the expulsion of sacerdotalists, to modify, in deference to pious + scruples, too rigid definitions. Time will suffice for these + necessary modifications of sixteenth-century theology. + + "In the present, the gain is ours. We shall hear less of the cultus + of the 'Sacred Heart' in future. The blasphemous mimicry of the + Mass will perish from amongst us. + + "No man, in England at least, will dare to affirm that the flesh in + which the Saviour bore our sins upon the Cross is exposed for + adoration on the so-called 'altar.' + + "As Matthew Arnold put it, on the true grave of Jesus 'the Syrian + stars look down,' but the risen Christ, glorious in His _Spiritual_ + Body, reigns over the hearts of his true followers, and we look + forward in faith to our departure from the earthly tabernacle, + which is dissolved day by day, knowing that we also have a + spiritual house not made with hands eternal in the heavens." + +As he read the clever trimming article and marked the bitterness of its +tone, the priest's face grew red with anger and contempt. + +This facile acceptance of the Great Horror, this insolent conversion of +it to party ends, this flimsy pretence of reconciling statements, which, +if true, made Christianity a thing of nought, to a novel and trumped-up +system of adherence to it, filled him with bitter antagonism. + +But, useful as the article was as showing the turn many men's minds were +taking, there was no time to trouble about it now. + +To-morrow the great meeting of those who still believed Christ died and +rose again from the dead was to be held. + +The terrible "Report" had been issued. During the forty hours of its +existence everything was already beginning to crumble away. To-morrow +the Church Militant must speak to the world. + +It was said, moreover, that the great wave of infidelity and mockery +which was sweeping hourly over the country would culminate in a great +riot to-morrow.... + +Everything seemed dark, black, hopeless.... + +He picked up the Report once more to study it, as he had done fifty +times that day. + +But before he opened it he knelt in prayer. + +As he prayed, so sweet and certain an assurance came to him, he seemed +so very near to the Lord, that doubt and gloom fled before that +Presence. + +What were logic, proofs of stone-work, the reports of archæologists, to +This? + +Here in this lonely chamber Christ was, and spoke with His servant, +bidding him be of good comfort. + +With bright eyes, full of the glow of one who walks with God, the priest +opened the pamphlet once more. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE HOUR OF CHAOS + + +Although, during the first days of the Darkness, hundreds of thousands +of Christian men and women were chilled almost to spiritual death, and +although the lamp of Faith was flickering very low, it was not in London +that the far-reaching effects of the discovery at Jerusalem were most +immediately apparent. + +In that great City there is an outward indifference, bred of a million +different interests, which has something akin to the supreme +indifference of Nature. The many voices never blend into one, so that +the ear may hear them in a single mighty shout. + +But in the grimmer North public opinion is heard more readily, and is +more quickly visible. In the great centres of executive toil the vital +truths of religion seem to enter more insistently into the lives of men +and women whose environment presents them with fewer distractions than +elsewhere. Often, indeed, this interest is a political interest rather +than a deeply Christian one, a matter of controversy rather than +feeling. Certain it is that all questions affecting religious beliefs +loom large and have a real importance in the cities of the North. + +It was Wednesday evening at Walktown. + +Mr. Byars was reading the service. The huge, ugly church was lit with +rows of gas-jets, arranged in coronæ painted a drab green. But the +priest's voice, strained and worn, echoed sadly and with a melancholy +cadence through the great barn-like place. Two or three girls, a couple +of men, and half a dozen boys made up the choir, which had dwindled to +less than a fifth of its usual size. The organ was silent. + +Right down the church, those in the chancel saw row upon row of +cushioned empty seats. Here and there a small group of people broke the +chilling monotony of line, but the worshippers were very few. In the +galleries an occasional couple, almost secure from observation, +whispered to each other. The church was warm, the seats not +uncomfortable; it was better to flirt here than in the cold, frost-bound +streets. + +Never had Evensong been so cheerless and gloomy, even in that vast, +unlovely building. There was no sermon. The vicar was suffering under +such obvious strain, he looked so worn and ill, that even this lifeless +congregation seemed to feel it a relief when the Blessing was said and +it was free to shuffle out into the promenade of the streets. + +The harsh trumpeting of Mr. Philemon, the vestry clerk's final "Amen," +was almost jubilant. + +As Mr. Byars walked home he saw that the three great Unitarian chapels +which he had to pass _en route_ were blazing with light. Policemen were +standing at the doors to prevent the entrance of any more people into +the overcrowded buildings. A tremendous life and energy pulsated within +these buildings. Glancing back, with a bitter sigh, the vicar saw that +the lights in St. Thomas were already extinguished, and the tower, in +which the illuminated clock glowed sullenly, rose stark and cold into +the dark winter sky. + +The last chapel of all, the Pembroke Road Chapel, had a row of finely +appointed carriages waiting outside the doors. The horses were covered +with cloths, the grooms and coachmen wore furs, and the breaths of men +and beasts alike poured out in streams of blue vapour. These men stamped +up and down the gravel sweep in front of the chapel and swung their arms +in order to keep warm. + +On each side of the great polished mahogany doors were large placards, +printed in black and red, vividly illuminated by electric arc lights. +These announced that on that night Mr. Constantine Schuabe, M.P., would +lecture on the recent discovery in Jerusalem. The title of the lecture, +in staring black type, seemed to Mr. Byars as if it possessed an almost +physical power. It struck him like a blow. + + THE DOWNFALL OF CHRISTIANITY + +And then in smaller type, + + ANTHROPOMORPHISM AN EXPLODED SUPERSTITION + +He walked on more hurriedly through the dark. + +All over the district the Church seemed tottering. The strong forces of +Unitarianism and Judaism, always active enemies of the Church, were +enjoying a moment of unexampled triumph. Led by nearly all the wealthy +families in Walktown, all the Dissenters and many lukewarm Church people +were crowding to these same synagogues. At the very height of these +perversions, when Christianity was forsworn and derided on all sides, +Schuabe had returned to Mount Prospect from London. + +His long-sustained position as head of the antichristian party in +Parliament, in England indeed, his political connection with the place, +his wealth, the ties of family and relationship, all combined to make +him the greatest power of the moment in the North. + +His speeches, of enormous power and force, were delivered daily and +reported _verbatim_ in all the newspapers. He became the Marlborough of +a campaign. + +On every side the churches were almost deserted. Day by day ominous +political murmurs were heard in street and factory. The time had come, +men were saying, when an established priesthood and Church must be +forced to relinquish its emoluments and position. The Bishop of +Manchester, as he rolled through the streets in his carriage, leaning +back upon the cushions, lost in thought, with his pipe between his lips, +according to the wont and custom which had almost created a scandal in +the neighbourhood, was hissed and hooted as he went on his way. + +With a sickness of heart, an utter weariness that was almost physical +nausea, the vicar let himself into his house with a latch-key. + +There was a hushed, subdued air over the warm, comfortable house, felt +quite certainly, though not easy to define. It was as though one lay +dead in an upper chamber. + +Mr. Byars turned into his study. Helena rose to meet him. The beautiful, +calm face was very pale and worn as if by long vigils. Minute lines of +care had crept round the eyes, though the eyes themselves were as calm +and steadfast as of old. + +"Basil feels much stronger to-night, Father," she said. "He is dressing +now, and will come down to supper. He wishes to have a long talk with +you, he says." + +For two weeks Gortre had lain prostrate in the house of his future +father-in-law. + +It was as though he had watched the waters gradually rising round him +until at last he was submerged in a merciful unconsciousness. The doctor +said that he was enduring a very slight attack of brain-fever, but one +which need cause no one any alarm, and which was, in fact, nothing at +all in comparison to his former illness. + +His fine physical strength asserted itself and helped him to an easy +_bodily_ recovery. + +To Basil himself, with returning health and a clearer brain came a +renewal of mental power. A great strain was removed, the strain of +waiting and watching, the tension of a sick anticipation. + +"It was almost as if I was conscious of this terrible thing that has +happened," he said to Helena. "I am sure that I felt it coming +instinctively in some curious psychic way. But now that we know the +worst, I am my own man again. Soon, dear, I shall be up and about again, +ready to fight against this blackness, to take my place in the ranks +once more." + +To her loving solicitude he seemed to have some definite plan or +purpose, but when she questioned him his reserve was impenetrable, even +to her. + +During the days of darkness Helena's lot was hard, her heart heavy. +While Mr. Byars was at least active, militant, she must eat her heart +out in sorrow at home. The doctor had forbidden any talk on those +subjects which were agitating the world, between her and Basil. She was +denied that consolation. So while her father was attending the +conferences at the Bishop's palace, speaking at meetings, visiting the +sick with passionate, and, alas, how often useless! assurance that the +Truth would prevail and the Light of the World once more shine out +undimmed, she must live and pray alone. + +Helena's faith had never weakened. All through the trying days and +nights it had burned steadily, clear, and pure. But all around her she +saw the enemies of Christ prevailing. Nor was it with the slow movement +of ordinary secularism, but with a great shout of triumph and exultation +which resounded through the world. Men were deserting their posts, the +Church she loved seemed tottering, a horrid confusion and anarchy was +everywhere. + +And all that she could do was to pray. But as the girl moved about her +simple household duties, as she tended the sick man with an almost +wifely care, her prayers went on unceasingly and every action was +interwoven with supplication. + +Pale, subdued, but with a quiet clearness and resolution in his eye, +Basil came down to the meal. There was but little conversation during +it. Afterwards, Helena went to her own room, knowing that her father and +Gortre wished to be left alone. + +In the study the two men sat on either side of the fireplace. Basil wore +a long dressing-gown of camel's-hair. He would not smoke, the doctor had +forbidden it, but Mr. Byars lit his pipe with a sigh of satisfaction. + +"To think, Basil," the older man said in a broken voice, "to think that +Christmas is upon us now! It's the vigil of Christmas, and never since +our Lord's Passion has the world been in such a state. And worse than +all is our utter impotence!" His voice grew almost angry. "We _know_, +know as surely as we know anything, that this terrible business is some +stupendous mistake or fraud. But there isn't the slightest possibility +of any one listening to us. On one side the weightiest expert proof, on +the other nothing but a conviction to oppose to what appear to be the +hardest facts. I cannot blame any non-Christian for acquiescing in this +discovery. Viewing the thing clearly and without prejudice, I can't +blame any one. It is only the smallest minority, even of professing +Christians, whose faith is strong enough to keep them from an utter +denial of our Lord's Divinity. It is simply a matter of long personal +experience that gives you and me and Helena our confidence in this +utter darkness. But in comparison to the rest of the world, how many +have that confidence?" + +He put down his pipe on the table and rested his head in his +outstretched hands, a grey and venerable head. "It's awful, Basil," he +said in a broken voice, and with his eyes full of tears. "In my old age +I have seen this. I wish that I had gone with my dear wife. 'Help, Lord; +for the godly man ceaseth; for the faithful fail from among the children +of men.' But what is so bitter to me, my dear boy, is the sight of the +utter overthrow of Faith. It all shows how terribly weak the majority of +Christians are. Surface and symbol! symbol and surface!" + +"It will not last long," said Gortre, gravely. "For my part, Father, I +think that this terrible trial is allowed and permitted by God to bring +about a great and future triumph for His Son, which will marshal, +organise, and consolidate Faith as nothing has ever done before. I am +convinced of it." + +"Yes, it must be that," answered the vicar; "undoubtedly that is God's +purpose. But I would that the light might come in my time. And I fear I +shall not live to see it. I'm an old man now, Basil; this has aged me +very much, and I shall not live much longer. It is God's will, but it is +hard to know that one will die seeing Christ dethroned in the hearts of +men, the Cross broken." + +"While I have been quietly up-stairs," said Gortre, "many strange +thoughts have come to me, of which I want to speak to you to-night. I +have things to tell you which I have mentioned to no one as yet. But +before I go into these matters--very dark and terrible ones, I fear--I +want you to give me a _résumé_ of the position of things as they are +now. The present state is not clear in my mind. I have not read many of +the papers, and I want a sort of bird's-eye view of what is going on." + +"The position at present," said Mr. Byars, "from our point of view, is a +kind of anarchy. Within every denomination those who absolutely refuse +to credit the truth of the discovery are in the minority. Abroad, in +France especially, wild free-thought of the rabid Tom Paine order has +broken out everywhere in a kind of hysterical rage against Christianity. +The immediate social result has been an appalling increase in crimes of +lust and cruelty. Great alarm is felt by the authorities. All the papers +are taking a horribly cynical view. They say that the delusion of +Christianity has clouded men's brains for so long that they are now +incapable of bearing the truth, and that the best way to govern the +State is to go on making believe. On the other hand, the vast majority +of Roman Catholics, both abroad and in England, have remained utterly +uninfluenced. It is one of the most marvellous triumphs of discipline +and order that history has ever witnessed. The Pope forbade the +slightest notice of the discovery to be taken by priests or people in +the first instance. Then, when the Report of the Committee was issued, +with only one dissentient voice--Sir Michael Manichoe's--a Papal Bull +was issued. Here it is, translated in _The Tablet_, magnificent in its +brevity and serenity." + +He took a paper from the table beside him and began to read: + + "VENERABLE BRETHREN,--HEALTH AND APOSTOLIC BENEDICTION + + "It has seemed good to Us to address you on certain points dealing + with the decay of faith in divine things, which is the effect of + pride and moral corruption. And this is the natural result of + pride; for when this vice has taken possession of the heart it is + inevitable that the Christian Faith, which demands a most willing + docility, should languish, and that a murky darkness in regard to + divine truths should close upon the mind, so that in the case of + many these words should be made good, 'whatever things they know + not they blaspheme' (St. Jude). We, however, so far from being + hereby turned aside from the design which We have taken in hand, + are, on the contrary, determined all the more zealously and + diligently to guide the well-disposed, so that they may be saved + from the perils of secular unbelief. + + "And, with the help of the united prayers of the faithful, We + earnestly implore forgiveness for those who speak evil of holy + things. + + "And inasmuch as certain persons not being members of the Holy + Catholic Church have in an extremity of criminal madness laid claim + to discoveries which are pretended and put forth as affecting the + eternal Truths of the Faith, We command you, Venerable Brethren, + that it shall be stated in all the churches such pretences are void + of truth and utterly abominable. The enemies of Christ cry out, 'We + will not have this man to reign over us' (Luke xix. 14), and make + themselves loudly heard with the utterance of that wicked purpose, + 'Let us make away with Him.' + + "We therefore charge all Christians having peace and communion with + the Holy Church that they shall give no ear or countenance to these + onslaughts upon the Faith. It is forbidden for them to speak of + these things among themselves, or to listen to others concerning + them. + + "With these injunctions, Venerable Brethren, We, as a presage of + the divine liberality, and as a pledge of our own charity, most + lovingly bestow on each of you, and on the clergy and flock + committed to the care of each, our Apostolic Benediction." + +"That is the gist of it," said Mr. Byars, "though I have missed out a +few paragraphs. The result has been that, with a few exceptions, the +whole army of Romanists, so to speak, have closed ranks and utterly +refused to listen to what is going on." + +"It's very fine, very fine indeed, as a spectacle," Gortre answered. "I +wish we had something like that unity and discipline. But is that +submission, possibly without the fire of an inward conviction, worth +very much? I doubt it." + +"It is not for us to judge," answered the vicar. "But the result has +been that the Catholic Church, both here and on the Continent, is +undergoing a storm of persecution and popular hatred. There have been +fearful fights in Liverpool, and riots between the Irish dock-labourers +and a mob of people who called themselves Protestants last year and +'Rationalists' to-day. + +"The attitude of the Low Church party is varied. Many of them are openly +deserting to Unitarianism. Others have accepted the discovery as being a +true one, and evolved an entirely new theory from it, while using it as +a party weapon also. This attitude is reflected in _The Tower_ in an +article which says that, though the actual body of Christ is now proved +never to have risen from the dead, the _spiritual_ body was what the +Disciples saw. It is a clever piece of work, which has attracted an +immense number of people, and is directed entirely against the Holy +Eucharist.[1] The Moderate and High Church parties are in some ways in a +worse position than any other. They find themselves unable to +compromise. "At the great meeting in the Albert Hall the other day, +which ended up in something like a free fight, all the conclusion the +majority of the clergy could come to was that it was utterly impossible +to accept the discovery and remain Christian. The result everywhere is +chaos; men are resigning their livings, there have been several +suicides--isn't it horrible to think of?--congregations are dwindling +everywhere, and disestablishment seems a certainty in a very short time. +The papers are full of nothing else, of course. We are fighting tooth +and nail upon the standpoint of personal spiritual experience, which +nothing can alter, but in a material way how little that helps! The +Methodists and Wesleyans are more successful than any one. They are +holding revival meetings all over the country. Very few of these two +bodies have joined the infidel ranks. Dissent has always implied an act +of choice, which, at any rate, means a man is not indifferent to the +whole thing. I suppose that is why the Wesleyans seem to be making a +firmer and more spiritual stand than any of us. To my shame I say it, +but the Churchmen of England are not bearing witness as these others +are." + +"And the Bishops?" + +"Most of them don't know what to do. Of course, the great leaders of +spiritual thought, W----, for instance, and G----, have written that +which has brought comfort and conviction to hundreds. But see the horror +of the position. The only way in which this awful thing can be combated +is by just the methods which only scholars and cultivated people can +understand. How are people who read the hard, material, logical speeches +of people like Schuabe, or that abominable woman, Mrs. Hubert Armstrong, +going to be convinced by the subtleties of the intellect or by the +reiteration of a personal conviction which they cannot share? Then the +Court party, the Archbishop, Walke, and all those, are leaning more and +more towards the 'spiritual' body theory, though they hesitate to commit +themselves as yet. It is all to be shelved until Convocation meets. They +want to see how things will go in Parliament. The Erastian spirit is +rampant. They are nearly all afraid of any ecclesiastical action. They +are following the lead of Germany under the Kaiser." + +"It is all very terrible to see how much less Christianity means to +mankind than earnest Christians believed," said Gortre, sadly. "To see +the edifice tumbling round one like a house of paper when one thought it +so secure and strong. What a terrible lesson this will be in the future +to every one; what frightful shame and humiliation will come to those +who have denied their Lord when this is over!" + +"When will that be, Basil?" said the vicar, wearily. "It seems as if the +real hour of test were at hand, and that now, finally and for ever, God +means to separate the true believers from the rest. I have thought that +all this may be but a prelude to the Last Day of all, and that Christ's +Second Coming is very near. But what I _cannot_ understand, what is +utterly beyond the power of any of us to appreciate, is what this all +_means_. How can this new tomb have been discovered after all these +years? Can all these great experts have been deceived? There have been +historical forgeries before, but surely this cannot be one. And yet, I +_know_, you _know_, that our Lord rose from the dead." + +"I believe that to me, of all men in England, The Hand of God has given +the key to the mystery," said Gortre. + +Mr. Byars started and looked uneasily at him. + +"Basil," he said, "I have been thoughtless. We've talked too long. You +are not quite clear as to what you are saying. Let us read compline +together and go to bed." + +He watched Basil as he spoke, but before he had finished his sentence he +saw something in the young man's face which sent the blood leaping and +tearing through his veins. + +In a sudden, utterly unreasoning way, he saw a truth, a certain +knowledge, in Gortre's eyes which flooded his whole heart and soul with +exaltation and joy. + +His good and almost saintly face looked as John's might have looked +when, after the octave of the Resurrection Day, the eight heavy-hearted +men were once more returning to the daily round and common task, and saw +the Lord upon the shore. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE FIRST LINKS + + +"I have been piecing things together gradually, as I lay silent +up-stairs," said Gortre, drawing his chair a little closer to the fire. + +"Slowly, little by little, I have added link and link to a chain of +circumstantial evidence which has led me to an almost incredible +conclusion. When you have heard what I have to say you will realise two +things. One is that there are depths of human wickedness so abysmal and +awful that the mind can hardly conceive of them. The other is that, for +what reason it is not for us to try and divine, I have been led, by a +most extraordinary series of events and coincidences, to something very +near the truth about the discovery in Jerusalem. My story begins some +months ago, on the night before I was struck down with brain-fever. You +will remember that Constantine Schuabe"--he spoke the name with a +shudder of horror that instinctively communicated itself to Mr. +Byars--"that Schuabe called here on that night about the school +scholarships. When I went away, I left the house with him. He invited me +to go on to Mount Prospect and I did so. Earlier in the evening we had +been talking of the antichrist and I had said to you that I saw in +Schuabe a modern type of the old mediæval idea. My mind was peculiarly +sensitive on these points that night, awake, alert, and inquiring. When +Schuabe invited me to his house, something impelled me to go, something +outside of myself. I went, feeling that I was on the threshold of some +discovery." + +He paused for a moment, white and tired with the intensity of his +narrative. + +"When we got to Schuabe's house we began upon the controversial points +which we had carefully avoided here. At first our talk was quite quiet, +mere argument between two people having different points of view on +religion. He went out to get some supper--the servants were all in bed. +While he was gone, again I felt the strange assurance of something by me +directing my actions. I felt a sense of direct spiritual protection. I +went to the bookshelf and took down a Bible. I opened it, half ashamed +of myself for the tinge of superstition, and my eyes fell upon the text: + + "'WATCH AND PRAY.' + +"I could not help taking it as a direct message. Schuabe came back. +Gradually, as I saw his bitter hatred and contempt for our Lord and the +Christian Church becoming revealed, I was uplifted to rebuke him. He had +dropped the veil of an _intellectual_ disagreement. Some power was given +to me to see far into the man's soul. He knew that also, and all +pretence between us was utterly swept away. Then I told him that his +hate was real and active, that I saw him as he was. And these were the +words in which he answered me, standing like Lucifer before me. For +months they have haunted me. They are burnt in upon my brain for all +time. '_I tell you, paid priest as you are, a blind man leading the +blind, that a day is coming when all your boasted fabric of +Christianity will disappear. It will go suddenly and be swept utterly +away. And you, you shall see it. You shall be left naked of your Faith, +stripped and bare, with all Christendom beside you. Your pale Nazarene +shall die among the bitter laughter of the world, die as surely as he +died two thousand years ago, and no man nor woman shall resurrect him. +You know nothing, but you will remember my words of to-night, until you +also become as nothing and endure the inevitable fate of mankind!_'" + +Mr. Byars started. As yet he realised nothing of where Basil's story was +to lead. "A prophecy!" he cried. "It is as if he were gifted to know the +future. Something of what he said has already come to pass." + +"My story is a long one, Father," said Gortre, "and as yet it is only +begun. You will see plainer soon. Well, as he said these words I knew +with certainty that this man was _afraid of God_. I saw his awful secret +in his eyes, this man, antichrist indeed, _believes in our Lord_, and in +terrible presumption dares to lift his hand against Him. Little more of +importance happened upon that night. The next day, as you know, I fell +ill and was so for some weeks. When I recovered and remembered perfectly +all that had happened--do you remember how the picture of Christ fell +and broke when Schuabe came?--I saw that I must keep all these things +locked within my own brain. What could I do or say more than that I, a +fanatical curate--that is what people would have said--had had a row +with the famous agnostic millionaire and politician? I could not hope to +explain to any one the reality of that evening, the certain knowledge I +had of its being only a prelude to some horror that I could not foresee +or name. So I kept my own counsel. Perhaps you may remember that on the +night of the tea-party when I said good-bye to the people I urged them +to keep fast hold on faith, made a special point of it?" + +Again Mr. Byars showed his intense interest by a sudden movement of the +muscles of his face. But he did not speak, and Gortre continued: + +"Now we come to Dieppe when we were all there together. You will, of +course, remember how Spence introduced us to Sir Robert Llwellyn, and +how we talked over dinner at the _Pannier d'Or_. Since then, we must +remember, Sir Robert's evidence in favour of the absolute authenticity +of Hands's discovery has had more weight with the world than that of any +one else. He is, of course, known to be the greatest living expert. And +that fact also has a very important bearing on my story. After dinner, +the conversation turned upon discoveries in exactly the direction that +the recent discovery _has_ been made. Llwellyn expressed himself as +believing that--I think I remember something like his actual words--'We +are on the eve of stupendous discoveries in this direction.' None of us +liked to pursue the discussion further. There was a little pause." + +"Yes!" said the vicar, "I remember it perfectly now; it all comes back +to me quite vividly. But do you know that, beyond of course remembering +that we were introduced to Sir Robert at Dieppe, the subject of our +conversation had almost escaped my memory. Certainly I never thought of +it in detail. But go on, Basil." + +"Well, then, Sir Robert drew a plan of the walls of Jerusalem on the +back of a letter which he took from his pocket. As he turned the letter +over I could not help seeing whom it was from. I read the signature +quite distinctly, 'Constantine Schuabe.' This brings us up to a curious +fact. Two eminent men, one antichristian, the other a famous +archæologist, both express an opinion in my hearing. The first says +openly that something is about to occur that will destroy faith in +Christ, the other hints only at some wonderful impending discovery in +the Holy Land. The connection between the two statements, startling +enough in any case, becomes still more so when it is discovered that +these two eminent people are in correspondence one with the other. And +there is more than this even. Two days after that dinner I was taking a +stroll down by the quays when I saw Sir Robert and Mr. Schuabe, who had +just landed from the Newhaven boat, get into the Paris train together." + +A sudden short exclamation came from the chair on the opposite side of +the fire. Very dimly and vaguely the vicar was beginning to see where +Basil's story was tending. The fire had grown low, and Mr. Byars +replenished it. The noise of the falling coals accentuated the tension +which filled the quiet room like a gas. + +Then Gortre's tired, but even and deliberate, voice continued: + +"I will here ask you to consider one or two other points. Professor +Llwellyn told us that he had a year's leave from the British Museum +owing to ill health. So long a rest presupposes a real illness, does it +not? Now, of course, one can never be sure of anything of this sort, but +it is, at least, curious and worthy of remark that Sir Robert seemed +outwardly in perfect health and with a hearty appetite. He also said +that he was _en route_ for Alexandria. Well, Alexandria is the nearest +port to Jaffa, which is but one day's ride from Jerusalem. Now comes a +still more curious part of my story. As I have told you, our parish in +Bloomsbury is one in which a great class of undesirable people have made +their home. It cannot be denied that it is a centre of some peculiarly +shameless vice. Much of the work of the clergy lies among women of a +certain class, and great tact and resolution is needed to deal with such +problems as these people present. Some months ago a woman, whose face +seemed in some vague way familiar to me, began to come to church. Once +or twice she seemed to show an inclination to speak to me or my +colleagues after the service, but she never actually did so. Eventually +she called on Ripon, and confessed her way of life. Her repentance +seemed sincere, and she was anxious to turn over a new leaf. It appeared +that the girl was a rather well-known dancer at one of the burlesque +theatres, and I must have seen her portrait on the hoardings and +advertisements of these places. She had been touched by something in one +of my sermons, it seems, and Ripon requested me to go and see her. I did +so, in the flat where she lived, and we had a chat. The poor thing was +suffering from an internal disease, and had only a year or two to live. +She seemed a kindly, sensible creature enough, vulgar and +pleasure-loving, but without any very great wickedness about her, +despite her wretched life. She wanted to get right away, to bury herself +in the country, and live a pure and quiet life until she died. The great +difficulty in the way was the man whose mistress she was, and of whom +she seemed in considerable fear. I explained to her that, with the help +of Father Ripon and myself, no harm should come to her from him, and +that her quiet disappearance from the scenes of her past life could be +very easily managed. Then it came out that the man in whose power she +was was none other than Sir Robert Llwellyn. _She told me that he had +been for some time in Palestine._ She was expecting him back every day. +While we were talking Sir Robert actually entered the room, fresh from +his journey. We had a fearful row, of course, and he would not go until +I threatened to use force, and then only because he was afraid of the +scandal. But before he went he seemed filled with a sort of coarse +triumph even in a moment of what must have been great discomfiture for +him. I had to explain what had happened to him. I told him frankly that +Miss Hunt--that was the woman's name--was, by the grace of the Holy +Spirit, about to lead a new and different life. Then this sort of +triumph burst forth. He said that in a short time meddling priests would +lose all their power over the minds of others. He said that Christ, 'the +pale dreamer of the East,' should be revealed to all men at last. He +quoted the verse about the grave from Matthew Arnold. And it was all +done with a great confidence and certainty." + +He stopped, worn out, and glanced inquiringly at Mr. Byars. + +The vicar was evidently much moved and excited by the narrative. "The +most curious point of all," he said, "in what you tell me is the fact of +Sir Robert's _private_ and _secret_ visit to Palestine some months +before the discovery was made. Such a recent visit is entirely unknown +to the public, who have been so busy with his name of late. The +newspapers have said nothing of it. Otherwise, I see no reason why, in +some way or other, Mr. Schuabe and Sir Robert may not have known of this +tomb in some way before it was discovered by Hands, and their hintings +of a catastrophe to faith may have simply been because of this knowledge +which they were unwilling to publish." + +Gortre shook his head. "No, it is not that," he said. "It is not that. +They would never have kept the knowledge secret. You have not been +through the scenes with these men that I have. There are a hundred +objections to that theory. _I am absolutely persuaded that this +'discovery' is a forgery, executed with the highest skill, by the one +man living capable of doing it at the instigation of the one man evil +enough to suggest it._ The hand of God is leading me towards the truth." + +"But the proof!" said the vicar, "the proof! Think of the tremendous +forces arrayed against us. What can we do? No one would listen to what +you have told me." + +"God will show a way," said Gortre. "I know it. I had a letter from +Harold Spence this morning. His work is done, and he has returned. At +the end of the week the doctor says I shall be able to get back to +Lincoln's Inn. I shall take counsel with Harold; he is brilliant, and a +man of the world. Together we will work to overthrow these devils." + +"And meanwhile," answered Mr. Byars, with a despairing gesture, +"meanwhile hope and faith are dying out of millions of hearts, men are +turning to sinful pleasures unafraid, hopeless, desolate." + +The strain had been too great, he was growing older; he bent his head on +his hands, while the darkness crept into his soul. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +PARTICULAR INSTANCES, CONTRASTING THE OLD LADY AND THE SPECIAL +CORRESPONDENT + + +The long Manchester station was full of the sullen and almost unbearable +roar of escaping steam. Every now and again the noise ceased with a +suddenness that was pain, and the groups of people waiting to see the +London train start on its four hours' rush could hear each other's +voices strange and thin after the mighty vibration. + +The feast of Christmas was over. Throughout the world the festival had +fallen chill and cold on the hearts of mankind. The _Adeste Fideles_ had +summoned few to worship, and the praise had sounded thin and hollow. +Even the faithful must keep their deep conviction as a hidden fire +within them amid the din and crash of faith and the rising tides of +negation and despair. + +Gortre, Helena, and Mr. Byars stood together by the train side. They +spoke but little; the same thought was in their brains. The jarring +materialism of the scene, its steady, heedless industry, seemed an +outrage almost in its cold disregard of the sadness which they felt +themselves. The great engines glided in and out of the station, the +porters and travellers moved with busy cheerfulness as if the world were +not in the grip of a great darkness and horror, taking no account of +it. They stood by the door of the carriage Basil had chosen, a forlorn +group not quite able to realise the stir of life around them. + +Gortre was pale and worn, but visibly better and stronger. His face was +fixed and resolute. The vicar seemed much older, shrunken somewhat, and +his manner was more tremulous than before. His arm was in Helena's. + +"Basil," said the vicar, "you are going from us into what must be the +unknown--God grant a happy issue out of the perils and difficulties +before you. For my part, I seem to be in an unhappy and doubting state. +It may be that you have the key to this black mystery and can dispel the +clouds. I shall pray daily that it may be so. It is in the hands of +God." + +He sighed heavily as he gripped Basil's hand in farewell. In truth, he +had but little hope and had hardly been able to realise the young man's +story. It was almost inconceivable to him, the abnormal wickedness it +suggested, the possibility that this great cloud could come upon the +world at the action of two men, both of whom he had known, found +pleasant, cultured people, and rather liked. The thought was too big to +grasp, it confused and stunned him. It is a curious fact that this good +man, who could believe, despite all contrary evidence, in the eternal +truths of the Gospel, could not believe in the malignancy which Basil's +story had seemed to indicate. + +Helena had not been told of Basil's suspicions, only of his hopes. She +knew that there was that in his mind which might lead once more to light +and disperse the clouds. No details were given to her, nor did she ask +for them. She was too serene and fine for commonplace curiosity. The +mutual trust between the lovers was absolute. Nothing could strain it, +nothing could disturb it; and in her love and admiration for Basil, +Helena saw nothing incongruous or incredible in the fact that the young +man hoped himself to bring peace back to the world. + +To any one viewing the project with unbiassed eyes it might have seemed +beyond possibility, would have provoked a smile, this spectacle of an +obscure curate going up to London in a third-class carriage with hopes +of saving his country's faith, in the expectation of overthrowing the +gigantic edifice of learned opinion, of combating a Sanhedrin of the +great. Such people would have said with facile pedantry that this girl +possessed no sense of humour, imagining that they were reproaching her. +For by some strange mental perversion most people would rather be told +that they lack a sense of morals or duty than a sense of humour, and it +is quite certain that this was said of John the Baptist as he preached +in his unconventional raiment upon Jordan's banks. + +Helena and Basil walked slowly up and down the platform, saying +farewell. + +Her words of love and hope, her serene and unquestioning confidence, +uplifted him as nothing else could do. At this moment, big with his own +passionate hopes and desires, yet dismayed at the immensity of the task +before him, the trust and encouragement of one he loved were especially +helpful and uplifting. It was the tonic he needed. And as the train +slowly moved out of the station the bright and noble face of his lady +was the last thing he saw. + +He thought long of her as the train began to gather speed and rush +through the smoky Northern towns. As many other people, Gortre found a +stimulus to clear, ordered thought in the sensation of rapid motion. The +brain worked with more power, owing to the exhilaration produced in it +by speed. + +As the ponderous machine which was carrying him back to the great +theatre of strife and effort gathered momentum and power, so his mind +became filled with high hopes, began to glow with eagerness to strike a +great blow against the enemies of Christ. + +He looked at the carriage, noticing for the first time, at least +consciously, the people who sat there. He had two fellow-passengers, a +man and a woman. The man seemed to belong to the skilled artisan class, +decently dressed, of sober and quiet manner. His well-marked features, +the prominent nose, keen grey eyes, and thick reddish moustache, spoke +eloquently of "character" and somewhat of thought. The woman was old, +past sixty, a little withered creature, insignificant of face, her mouth +a button, her hair grey, scanty, and ill-nourished. + +The man was sitting opposite to Gortre and they fell into talk after a +time on trivial subjects. The stranger was civil, but somewhat +assertive. He did not use the ordinary "sir." + +Suddenly, with a slight smile of anticipation, he seemed to gather +himself up for discussion. + +"Well," he said, "I don't wish individuals no particular harm, you'll +understand, but speaking general, I suppose you realise that your job's +over. The Church will be swept away for good 'n' all in a few months +now, and to my way of thinking it'll be the best thing as 'as ever come +to the country. The Church has always failed to reach the labourin' +man." + +"Because the labouring man has generally failed to reach the Church," +said Gortre, smiling. "But you mean Disestablishment is near, I +suppose?" + +"That's it, mister," said the man. "It must come now, and about time, +too, after all these centuries of humbug. I used to go to church years +back and sing 'The Church's one foundation.' Its foundation's been +proved a pack o' lies now, and down it comes. Disestablishment will +prove the salvation of England. When religion's swept away by act o' +Parliament, then men will have an opportunity of talking sense and +seeing things clearly." + +He spoke without rudeness but with a certain arrogance and an obvious +satisfaction at the situation. Here was a parson cornered, literally, +forced to listen to him, with no way of escape. Gortre imagined that he +was congratulating himself that this was not a corridor train. + +"I think Disestablishment is very likely to come indeed," said Gortre, +"and it will come the sooner for recent events. Of course I think that +it will be most barefaced robbery to take endowments from the Church +which are absolutely her own property, and use them for secular +purposes, but I'm not at all sure that it wouldn't be an excellent thing +for the Church after all. But you seem to think that Disestablishment +will destroy _religion_. That is an entire mistake, as you will find." + +"It's destroyed already," said the man, "let alone what's _going_ to +happen. Since what they've found out in Jerusalem the whole thing's gone +puff! like blowin' out a match. You can't get fifty people together in +any town what believe in religion any more. The religion of common sense +has come now, and it's come to stay." + +A voice with a curious singing inflection came from the corner of the +carriage, a voice utterly unlike the harsh North-country accent of the +workman. The old woman was beginning to speak. + +Gortre recognised the curious Cornish tones at once, and looked up with +sudden interest. + +"You'm wrong, my son," said the old woman, "bitter wrong you be, and +'tis carnal vanity that spakes within you. To Lostwithul, where I bide, +I could show 'ee different to what you do say." + +The workman, a good-humoured fellow enough, smiled superior at the odd +old thing. The wrinkled face had become animated, two deep lines ran +from the nostrils to the corner of the lips, hard and uncompromising. +The eyes were bright. + +"Well, Mother," he said, "let's hear what _you've_ got ter say. Fair +do's in argument is only just and proper." + +"Ah!" she replied, "it's easy to go scat when you've not got love of the +Lard in your heart. I be gone sixty years of age, and many as I can mind +back-along as have trodden the path of sorrow. There be a brae lot o' +fools about." + +The workman winked at Gortre with huge enjoyment, and settled himself +comfortably in his place. + +"Then you don't hold with Disestablishing the Church, Mother?" he said. + +"I do take no stock in Church," she replied, "begging the gentleman's +pardon"--this to Gortre. "I was born and bred a Wesleyan and such I'm +like to die. How should I know what they'll be doing up to London church +town? This here is my first visit to England to see my daughter, and +it'll be the last I've a mind to take. You should come to Cornwall, my +dear, and then you'll see if religion's over and done away with." + +"But you've heard of all as they've just found out at Jerusalem, surely? +It's known now that Christ never was what He made out to be. He won't +save no more sinners,--it's all false what the Bible says, it's been +_proved_. I suppose you've heard about _that_ in Cornwall?" + +"I was down to the shop," said the old lady, with the gentle contempt of +one speaking to a foolish child. "I was down to the shop December month, +and Mrs. Baragwaneth showed me the _Western Morning News_ with a picture +and a lot of talk saying the Bible was ontrue, and Captain Billy Peters, +of Treurthian mine, he was down-along too. How 'a did laugh at 'un! 'My +dear,' he says, ''tis like the coast guards going mackerel-seining. +Night after night have they been out, and shot the nets, too, for they +be alwass seein' something briming, thinking it a school o' fish, and +not knowing 'tis but moonshine. It's want of _experience_ that do make +folk talk so.'" + +"That's all very well, Mother," answered the man, slightly nettled by +the placid assurance of her tone. "That's all pretty enough, and though +I don't understand your fishing terms I can guess at your meaning. But +here's the _proof_ on one side and nothing at all on t'other. Here's all +the learned men of all countries as says the Bible is not true, _and +proving_ it, and here's you with no learning at all just saying it _is_, +with no proof whatever." + +"Do 'ee want proof, then?" she answered eagerly, the odd see-saw of her +voice becoming more and more accentuated in her excitement. "I tell 'ee +ther's as many proofs as pilchards in the say. Ever since the Lard +died--ah! 'twas a bitter nailing, a bitter nailing, my dear!"--she +paused, almost with tears in her voice, and the whole atmosphere of the +little compartment seemed to Basil to be irradiated, glorified by the +shining faith of the old dame--"ever since that time the proofs have +been going on. Now I'll tell 'ee as some as I've see'd, my son. Samson +Trevorrow to Carbis water married my sister, May Rosewarne, forty years +ago. He would drink something terrible bad, and swear like a foreigner. +He'd a half-share in a trawler, three cottages, and money in the bank. +First his money went, then his cottages, and he led a life of sin and +brawling. He were a bad man, my dear. Every one were at 'un for an +ongodly wastrel, but 'a kept on. An' the Lard gave him no children; May +could not make a child to him, for she were onfruitful, but he would not +change. All that folk with sense could do was done, but 't were no +use." + +"Well, I know the sort of man," said the workman, with conviction. His +interest was roused, that unfailing interest which the poorer classes +take in each other's family history. + +"Then you do know that nothing won't turn them from their evil ways?" + +"When a chap gets the drink in him like that," replied the artisan, +"there's no power that will take him from it. He'd go through sheet iron +for it." + +"And so would Samson Trevorrow, my dear," she continued. "One night he +came home from Penzance market, market-peart, as the saying is, drunk if +you will. My sister said something to 'un, what 't was I couldn't say, +but he struck her, for the first time. Next morning was the Sunday, and +when she told him of what he'd done overnight, he was shamed of himself, +and she got him to come along with her to chapel. 'T was a minister from +Bodmin as prached, and 'ee did prache the Lard at Sam until the Word got +hold on 'un and the man shook with repentance at his naughty life. He +did kneel down before them all and prayed for forgiveness, and for the +Lard to help 'un to lead a new life. From that Sabbath till he died, +many years after, Sam never took anything of liquor, he stopped his +sweering and carrying on, and he lived as a good man should. And in a +year the Lard sent 'un a son, and if God wills I shall see the boy this +afternoon, for he's to meet the train. There now, my son, that be gospel +truth what I tell 'ee. After that can you expect any one with a grain of +sense to listen to such foolish truck as you do tell? The Lard did that +for Samson Trevorrow, changed 'un from black to white, 'a did. If the +Queen herself were to tell me that the Lard Jesus wasn't He, I wouldn't +believe her." + +As Gortre drove from Euston through the thronged veins of London +towards the Inn, he thought much and with great thankfulness of the +little episode in the train. Such simple faith, such supreme conviction, +was, he knew, the precious possession of thousands still. What did it +matter to these sturdy Nonconformists in the lone West that _savants_ +denied Christ? All over England the serene triumph of the Gospel, deep, +deep down in the hearts of quiet people, gave the eternal lie to Schuabe +and his followers. Never could they overcome the Risen Lord in the human +heart. He began to realise more and more the ineffable wonder of the +Incarnation. + +Before he had arrived at Chancery Lane the London streets began to take +hold of him once more with the old familiar grip. How utterly unchanged +they were! It seemed but a day since he had left them; it was impossible +at the moment of re-contact to realise all that had passed since he had +gone away. + +He was to have an immediate and almost terrifying reminder of it. The +door of the chambers was not locked, and pushing it open, he entered. + +Always most sensitive to the _atmosphere_ of a room, moral as well as +material, he was immediately struck by that of the chambers, most +unpleasantly so, indeed. Certain indications of what had been going on +there were easily seen. Others were not so assertive, but contributed +their part, nevertheless, to the subtle general impression of the place. + +The air was stale with the pungent smell of Turkish tobacco and spirits. +It was obvious that the windows had not been as freely opened as their +wont. A litter of theatre programmes lay on one chair. On another was a +programme of a Covent Garden ball and a girl's shoe of white satin, into +which a fading bouquet of hothouse flowers had been wantonly crushed. +The table was covered with the _débris_ of a supper, a _pâté_, some +long-necked bottles which had held Niersteiner, a hideous box of pink +satin and light blue ribbons half full of _glacé_ plums and chocolates. + +The little bust of the Hermes of Praxiteles, which stood on one of the +bookcases, had been maltreated with a coarseness and vulgarity which +hurt Basil like a blow. The delicate contour of the features, the pure +white of the plaster, were soiled and degraded. The cheeks had been +rouged up to the eyes, which were picked out in violet ink. The brows +were arched with an "eyebrow pencil" and the lips with a vivid cardinal +red. + +Basil put down his portmanteau and grew very pale as he looked round on +these and many other evidences of sordid and unlovely riot. His heart +sank within him. He began to fear for Harold Spence. + +Even as he looked round, Spence came into the room from his bed-chamber. +He was dressed in a smoking jacket and flannel trousers. Basil saw at +once that he had been drinking heavily. The cheeks were swollen under +the pouch of the eye, he was unshaven, and his manner was full of noisy +and tremulous geniality. + +There are men in whom a week or two of sudden relapse into old and evil +courses has an extraordinarily visible effect. Spence was one of them. +At the moment he looked as the clay model compares with the finished +marble. + +Gortre was astounded at the change, but one thing the modern London +clergyman learns is tact. The situation was obvious, it explained itself +at once, and he nerved himself to deal with it warily and carefully. + +Spence himself was ill at ease at they went through the commonplaces of +meeting. Then, when they were both seated by the fire and were smoking, +he began to speak frankly. + +"I can see you are rather sick, old man," he said. "Better have it out +and done with, don't you think?" + +"Tell me all about it, old fellow," said Gortre. + +"Well, there isn't very much to tell, only when I came back from +Palestine after all that excitement I felt quite lost and miserable. +Something seemed taken away out of one's life. Then there didn't seem +much to do, and some of the old set looked me up and I have been +racketing about town a good bit." + +"I thought you'd got over all that, Harold; because, putting it on no +other grounds, you know the game is _not_ worth the candle." + +"So I had, Basil, before"--he swallowed something in his throat--"before +_this_ happened. I didn't believe in it at first, of course, or, at +least, not properly, when I got Hands's letter. But when I got out +East--and you don't know and won't be able to understand how the East +turns one's ideas upside down even at ordinary times--when I got out +there and _saw_ what Hands had found, then everything seemed slipping +away. Then the Commission came over and I was with them all and heard +what they had to say. I know the whole private history of the thing from +first to last. It made me quite hopeless--a terrible feeling--the sort +of utter dreariness that Poe talks of that the man felt when he was +riding up to the House of Usher. Of course, thousands of people must +have felt just the same during the past weeks. But to have the one thing +one leaned upon, the one hope that kept one straight in this life, the +hope of another and happier one, cut suddenly out of one's +consciousness! Is it any wonder that one has gone back to the old +temptations? I don't think so, Basil." + +His voice dropped, an intense weariness showed in his face. His whole +body seemed permeated by it, he seemed to sink together in his chair. +All the mental pain he had endured, all the physical languor of fast +living, that terrible nausea of the soul which seizes so imperiously +upon the vicious man who is still conscious of sin; all these flooded +over him, possessed him, as he sat before his friend. + +An enormous pity was in Basil's heart as he saw this concrete weakness +and misery. He realised what he had only guessed at before or seen but +dimly. He would not have believed this transformation possible; he had +thought Harold stronger. But even as he pitied him he marvelled at the +Power which had been able to keep the man pure and straight so long. +Even this horrid _débâcle_ was but another, if indirect, testimony to +the power of Faith. + +And, secondly, as he listened to his friend's story, a deep anger, a +righteous wrath as fierce as flame burned within him as he thought of +the two men who, he was persuaded, had brought this ruin upon another. +In Spence he was able to see but a single case out of thousands which he +knew must be similar to it. The evil passions which lie in the hearts of +all men had been loosened and unchained; they had sprung into furious +activity, liberated by the appalling conspiracy of Schuabe and Llwellyn. + +It is noticeable that there was by this time hardly any doubt in +Gortre's mind as to the truth of his suspicions. + +"I understand it all, old man," he said, "and you needn't tell me any +more. I can sympathise with you. But I have much to tell you--news, or, +at least, theories, which you will be astounded to hear. Listen +carefully to me. I believe that just as you were the instrument of first +bringing this news to public notice, so you and I are going to prove its +falsity, to unearth the most wicked conspiracy in the world's history. +Pull yourself together and follow me with all your power. All hope is +not yet gone." + +Basil saw, with some relief, the set and attentive face before him, a +face more like the old Spence. But, as he began to tell his story, there +flashed into his mind a sudden picture of the old Cornish woman in the +train, and he marvelled at that greater faith as his eye fell upon the +foul disorder of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE TRIUMPH OF SIR ROBERT LLWELLYN + + +In the large, open fireplaces of the Sheridan Club dining-room, logs of +pine and cedar wood gave out a regular and well-diffused warmth. +Outside, the snow was still falling, and beyond the long windows, +covered with their crimson curtains, the yellow air was full of soft and +silent movement. + +The extreme comfort of the lofty, panelled dining-room was accentuated a +hundred-fold, to those entering it, by the chilly experience of the +streets. + +The electric lights burnt steadily in their silk shades, the gleams +falling upon the elaborate table furniture in a thousand points of +dancing light. + +At one of the tables, laid for two people, Sir Robert Llwellyn was +sitting. He was in evening dress, and his massive face was closely +scrutinising a printed list propped up against a wine-glass before him. +His expression was interested and intent. By his side was a sheet of the +club note-paper, and from time to time he jotted down something upon it +with a slender gold pencil. + +The great archæologist was ordering dinner for himself and a guest with +much thought and care. + + _Crême d'asperge à la Reine_ + +in his neat writing, the letters distinct from one another--almost like +an inscription in Uncial Greek character, one might have fancied. + +_Turbot à l'Amiral_ promised well; the plump, powerful fingers wrote it +down. + +_Poulardes du Mans rôties_ with _petits pois à la Française_ with a +_salade Niçoise_ to follow; that would be excellent! Then just a little +_suprème de pêches, à la Montreuil_, which is quite the best kind of +_suprème_, then some _Parmesan_ before the coffee. + +"Quite a simple dinner, Painter," he said to the steward of the +room,--the famous "small dining-room" with its alcoves and discreet +corners,--"simple but good. Of course you will tell Maurice that it is +for _me_. I want him to do quite his best. If you will send this list +off to the kitchens with a message, we will go into the wines together." + +They went carefully into the wines. + +"Remember that we shall want the large liqueur glasses," he said, "with +the Tuileries brandy. In fact, I think I'll take a little now, as an +_apéritif_." + +The man bowed confidentially and went away. He returned with a long +bottle of curious shape with an imperial crown blown in the glass. It +was some of the famous brandy which had been lately found bricked up in +a cellar close to the _Place Carrousel_, and was worth its weight in +gold. + +On the tray stood one of the curious liqueur glasses lately introduced +into the club by Sir Robert. It was the shape of a port-wine glass, but +enormously large, capable of holding a pint or more, and made of glass +as thin as tissue paper and fragile as straw. The steward poured a very +little of the brandy into the great glass and twirled it round rapidly +by the stem. This was the most epicurean device for bringing out the +bouquet of the liqueur. + +Llwellyn sipped the precious liquid with an air of the most intense +enjoyment. His face glowed with enthusiasm. + +"Wonderful, wonderful!" he said in a hushed voice. "There, take it away +and bring me an olive. Then I will go down-stairs and wait for my friend +in the smoking-room. You will serve the soup at five minutes past +eight." + +He got up from the table and moved silently over the heavy carpet to the +door. + +It was about seven o'clock. At eight Constantine Schuabe was coming to +the Sheridan Club to dine. + +Sir Robert sat in the smoking-room with a tiny cigarette of South +American tobacco, wrapped in maize leaf and tied round the centre with a +tiny cord of green silk. His face expressed nothing but the most +absolute repose. His correspondence with life was at that moment as +complete as the most perfect health and discriminating luxury could make +it. + +He stretched out his feet to the blaze and idly watched the reflection +in the points of his shining boots. + +The room was quite silent now. A few men sat about reading the evening +papers, and there was a subdued hum of talk from a table where two men +were playing a casual game of chess, in which neither of them seemed +much interested. A large clock upon the oak mantel-shelf ticked with +muffled and soothing regularity. + +Llwellyn picked up a sixpenny illustrated paper, devoted to amusements +and the lighter side of life, and lazily opened it. + +His eye fell upon a double-page article interspersed with photographs of +actors and actresses. The article was a summing-up of the year's events +on the lighter stage by an accepted expert in such matters. He read as +follows: + + "The six Trocadero girls whom I remember in Paris recently billed + as 'The Cocktails,' never forget that grace is more important in + dancing than mere agility. They are youthful looking, pretty and + supple, and their manoeuvres are cunningly devised. The _diseuse_ of + the troupe, Mdlle. Nepinasse, sings the Parisian success, _Viens + Poupoule_, with considerable 'go' and swing. But in hearing her at + the 'Gloucester' the other night I could not help regretting the + disappearance of brilliant Gertrude Hunt from the boards where she + was so great an attraction. _Poupoule_, or its English equivalent, + is just the type of song, with its attendant descriptive dance, in + which that gay little lady was seen at her best. In losing her, the + musical-comedy stage has lost a player whose peculiar individuality + will not easily be replaced. Gertrude Hunt stood quite alone among + her sisters of the Profession. Who will readily forget the pert + _insouciance_, the little trick of the gloved hands, the mellow + calling voice? It has been announced that this popular favourite + has disappeared for ever from the stage. But there is a distinct + mystery about the sudden eclipse of this star, and one which + conjecture and inquiry has utterly failed to solve. Well, I, in + common with thousands of others, can only sigh and regret it. Yet I + should like to think that these lines would meet her eye, and she + may know that I am only voicing the wishes of the public when I + call to her to come back and delight our eyes and ears as before." + +By the side of the paragraph there was a photograph of Gertrude Hunt. He +stared at it, his mind busy with memories and evil longing. The bold, +handsome face, the great eyes, looked him full in the face. Never had +any woman been able to hold him as this one. She had become part of his +life. In his mad passion for the dancer he had risked everything, until +his whole career had depended upon the good-will of Constantine Schuabe. +There had been no greater pleasure than to satisfy her wishes, however +tasteless, however vulgar. And then, hastening back to her side with a +fortune for her (the second he had poured into the white grasping +hands), he had found her with the severe young priest. A power which he +was unable to understand had risen up as a bar to his enormous egoism. +She had gone, utterly disappeared, vanished as a shadow vanishes at the +moving of a light. + +And all his resources, all those of the theatre people with whom she had +been so long associated, had utterly failed to trace her. + +The Church had swallowed her up in its mystery and gloom. She was lost +to him for ever. And the fierce longing to be with her once more burnt +within him like the unhallowed flame upon the altar of an idol. + +As he regarded the chaos into which the Church was plunged he would +laugh to himself in horrid glee. His indifference to all forms of +religious congregations had gone. He felt an active and bitter hatred +now hardly less than that of Schuabe himself. And all the concentrated +hatred and incalculable malice that his poisoned brain distilled was +focussed and directed upon the young curate who had been the means and +instrument of his discomfiture. He had begun to plan schemes of swift +revenge, laughing at himself sometimes for the crude melodrama of his +thoughts. + +As a waiter with his powdered hair and white silk stockings showed +Schuabe into the smoking-room, the Jew saw with surprise the flushed and +agitated face of his host, so unlike its usual sensual serenity. He +wondered what had arisen to disturb Llwellyn, and he made up his mind +that he would know it before the evening was over. + +Schuabe, on his part, seemed depressed and in poor spirits. There was a +restlessness, quite foreign to his usual composure, which appeared in +little nervous tricks of his fingers. He toyed with his wine-glass and +did poor justice to the careful dinner. + +"Everything is going on very well," Llwellyn said. "My book is nearly +finished, and the American rights were sold yesterday. The Council of +the Free Churches have appointed Dr. Barker to write a counterblast. Who +could have foreseen the stir and tumult in the world? Everything is +toppling over in the religious world. I have read of your triumphal +progress in the North--this asparagus soup is excellent." + +"I don't feel very much inclined to talk of these things to-night," said +Schuabe. "To tell the truth, my nerves are a little out of order, and I +have been doing too much. I've got in that ridiculous state in which one +is constantly apprehending some sinister event. Everything has gone +well, and yet I'm like this. It is foolish. How humiliating a thought it +is, Llwellyn, that even intellects like yours and mine are entirely +dependent upon the secretions of the liver!" + +He smiled rather grimly, and the disturbance of the regular repose and +immobility of his face showed depths of weary unhappiness which betrayed +the tumult within. + +He recovered himself quickly, anxious, it seemed, to betray his thoughts +no further. + +"You seemed upset when I came into the club," he said. "You ought to be +happy enough. Debts all gone, fifty thousand in the bank, reputation +higher than ever, and all the world listening to everything you've got +to say." He smiled rather bitterly, as Llwellyn raised a glass of +champagne to his lips. + +"Exactly," said Llwellyn. "I've got everything I wanted a few months +ago, and one of the principal inducements for wanting it has gone." + +"Oh! you mean that girl?" answered Schuabe, contemptuously. "Well, buy +another. They are for sale in all the theatres, you know." + +"It's all very well to sneer like that," replied Llwellyn. "It's nothing +to me that you're about as cold-blooded as a fish, but you needn't sneer +at a man who is not. Because you enjoy yourself by means of asceticism +you have no more virtue than I have. I am fond of this one girl; she has +become necessary to my life. I spent thousands on her, and then this +abominable young parson takes her away--" He ground his teeth savagely, +his face became purple, he was unable to finish his sentence. + +Curiously enough Schuabe seemed to be in sympathy with his host's rage. +A deadly and vindictive expression crept into his eyes, which were +nevertheless more glittering and cold than before. + +"Gortre has come back to London. He has been here nearly a week," said +Schuabe, quickly. + +The other started. "You know his movements then? What has he to do with +_you_?" + +"More than, perhaps, you think. Llwellyn, that young man is dangerous!" + +"He's done me all the harm he can already. There is nothing else he can +do, unless he elopes with Lady Llwellyn, an event which I should view +with singular equanimity." + +"At any rate, I take sufficient interest in that person's movements to +have them reported to me daily." + +"Why on earth----?" + +"Simply because he guesses, or will guess, at the truth about the +Damascus Gate sepulchre!" + +Llwellyn grew utterly white. When he spoke it was with several +preliminary moistenings of the lips. + +"But what proof can he have?" + +"Don't be alarmed, Llwellyn. We are perfectly safe in every way. Only +the man is an enemy of mine, and even small enemies are obnoxious. He +won't disturb either of us for long." + +The big man gave a sigh of relief. "Well, you manage as you think best," +he said. "Confound him! He deserves all he gets--let's change the +subject. It's a little too Adelphi-like to be amusing." + +"I am going to hear Pachmann in the St. James's Hall. Will you come?" + +Llwellyn considered a moment. "No, I don't think I will. I'm going out +to a supper-party in St. John's Wood later--Charlie Fitzgerald's, the +lessee of the Piccadilly. I shall go home and read a novel quietly. To +tell the truth, I feel rather depressed, too. Everything seems going too +well, doesn't it?" + +Schuabe's voice shook a little as he replied shortly. + +For a brief moment the veil was raised. Each saw the other with eyes +full of the fear that was lurking within them. + +For weeks they had been at cross purposes, simulating a courage and +indifference they did not feel. + +Now each knew the truth. + +They knew that the burden of their terrible secret was beginning to +press and enclose them with its awful weight. Each had imagined the +other free from his own terror, that terror that lifts up its head in +times of night and silence, the dread Incubus that murders sleep. + +The two men went out of the club together without speaking. Their hearts +were beating like drums within them; it was the beginning of the agony. + + * * * * * + +Llwellyn, his coat exchanged for a smoking jacket, lay back in a leather +chair in his library. Since his return from Palestine he had transferred +most of his belongings to a small flat in New Bond Street. He hardly +ever visited his wife now. The flat in Bloomsbury Court Mansions had +been given up when Gertrude Hunt had gone. + +In New Bond Street Sir Robert lived alone. A housekeeper in the basement +of the buildings looked after his rooms and his valet slept above. + +The new _pied à terre_ was furnished with great luxury. It was not the +garish luxury and vulgar splendour of Bloomsbury Court--that had been +the dancer's taste. Here Llwellyn had gathered round him all that could +make life pleasant, and his own taste had seen to everything. + +As he sat alone, slightly recovered from the nervous shock of the +dinner, but in an utter depression of spirits, his thoughts once more +went back to his lost mistress. + +It was in times like these that he needed her most. She would distract +him, amuse him, where a less vulgar, more intellectual woman would have +increased his boredom. + +He sighed heavily, pitying himself, utterly unconscious of his +degradation. The books upon the shelves, learned and weighty monographs +in all languages, his own brilliant contributions to historical science +among them, had no power to help him. He sighed for his rowdy Circe. + +The electric bell of the flat rang sharply outside in the passage. His +man was out, and he rose to answer it himself. + +A friend probably had looked him up for a drink and smoke. He was glad; +he wanted companionship, easy, genial companionship, not that pale devil +Schuabe, with his dreary talk and everlasting reminder. + +He went out into the passage and opened the front door. A woman stood +there. + +She moved, and the light from the hall shone on her face. + +The eyes were brilliant, the lips were half parted. + +It was Gertrude Hunt. + + * * * * * + +They were sitting on each side of the fire. + +Gertrude was pale, but her dark beauty blazed at him. + +She was smoking a cigarette, just as in the old time. + +A little table with a caraffe of brandy and bottles of seltzer in a +silver stand stood between them. + +Llwellyn's face was one large circle of pleasure and content. His eyes +gleamed with an evil triumph as he looked at the girl. + +"Good Heavens!" he cried, "why, Gertie, it's almost worth while losing +you to have you back again like this. It's just exactly as it used to +be, only better; yes, better! So you got tired of it all, and you've +come back. What a little fool you were ever to go away, dear!" + +"Yes, I got tired of it," she repeated, but in a curiously strained +voice. + +He was too exhilarated to notice the strange manner of her reply. + +"Well, I've got any amount of ready cash now," he said joyously. "You +can have anything you like now that you've given up the confounded +parsons and become sensible again." + +She seemed to make an effort to throw off something that oppressed her. + +"Now, Bob," she said, "don't talk about it. I've been a little fool, but +that's over. What a lot you've got to tell me! What did you do all the +time you were away? Where did you raise the 'oof from? Tell me +_everything_. Let's be as we were before. No more secrets!" + +He seemed to hesitate for a moment. + +She saw that, and stood up. "Come and kiss me, Bob," she said. He went +to her with unsteady footsteps, as if he were intoxicated by the fury of +his passion. + +"Tell me everything, Bob," she whispered into his ear. + +The man surrendered himself to her, utterly, absolutely. + +"Gertie," he said, "I'll tell you the queerest story you ever heard." + +He laughed wildly. + +"I've tricked the whole world by Jove! cleared fifty thousand pounds, +and made fools of the whole world." + +She laughed, a shrill, high treble. + +"Dear old Bob," she cried; "clever old Bob, you're the best of them all! +What have you done this time? Tell me all about it." + +"By God, I will," he cried. "I'll tell you the whole story, little +girl." His voice was utterly changed. + +"Yes, everything!" she repeated fiercely. + +Her body shook violently as she spoke. + +The man thought it was in response to his caresses. + +And the face which looked out over the man's shoulder, and had lately +been as the face of Delilah, was become as the face of Jael, the wife of +Heber the Kenite. + + * * * * * + +"No more secrets, Bob?" + +"No more secrets, Gertie; but how pale you look! Take some brandy, +little girl. Now, I'm going to make you laugh! Listen!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +PROGRESS + + +Sir Michael Manichoe, Father Ripon, and Harold Spence were sitting in +Sir Michael's own study in his London house in Berkeley Square. A small +circular table with the remains of a simple meal showed that they had +dined there, without formality, more of necessity than pleasure. + +When a small company of men animated by one strenuous purpose meet +together, the same expression may often be seen on the face of each one +of them. The three men in the study were curiously alike at this moment. +A grim resolution, something of horror, a great expectation looked out +of their eyes. + +Sir Michael looked at his watch. "Gortre ought to be here directly," he +said. "It won't take him very long to drive from Victoria. The train +must be in already." + +Father Ripon nodded, without speaking. + +There was another interval of silence. + +Then Spence spoke. "Of course it is only a _chance_," he said. "Gertrude +Hunt may very likely be able to give us no information whatever. One can +hardly suppose that Llewellyn would confide in her." + +"Not fully," said Father Ripon. "But there will be letters probably. I +feel sure that Gortre will come back with some contributory evidence, at +all events. We must go to work slowly, and with the greatest care." + +"The greatest possible care," repeated Sir Michael. "On the shoulders of +us four people hangs an incredible burden. We must do nothing until we +are _sure_. But ever since Gortre's suspicions have been known to me, +ever since Schuabe asked you that curious question in the train, Ripon, +I have felt absolutely assured of their truth. Everything becomes clear +at once. The only difficulty is the difficulty of believing in such +colossal wickedness, coupled with such supreme daring." + +"It is hard," said Father Ripon. "But probably one's mind is dazzled +with the consequences, the _size_, and immensity of the fraud. Apart +from this question of bigness, it may be that there is, given a certain +Napoleonic type of brain, no more danger or difficulty in doing such +gigantic evil than in doing evil on a smaller scale." + +"Perhaps the size of the operation blinds people--" Spence was +continuing, when the door opened and the butler showed Gortre into the +room. + +He wore a heavy black cloak and carried a Paisley travelling rug upon +his arm. + +The three waiting men started up at his approach, with an unspoken +question on the lips of each one of them. + +Gortre began to speak at once. He was slightly flushed from his ride +through the keen, frosty air of the evening. His manner was brisk, +hopeful. + +"The interview was excessively painful, as I had anticipated," he began. +"The result has been this: I have been able to get no direct absolute +confirmation of what we think. On the other hand, what I _have_ heard +establishes something and has made me morally certain that we are on the +right track. I think there can be no doubt about that. Again, there is a +strong possibility that we shall know much more very shortly." + +"Have you had anything to eat?" asked Sir Michael. + +"No, sir, and I'm hungry after my journey. I'll have some of this cold +beef, and tell you everything that has happened while I eat." + +He sat down, began his meal, and told his story in detail. + +"I found Miss Hunt," he said, "in her little cottage by the coast-guard +watch-house, looking over the sea. Of course, as you know, she is known +as Mrs. Hunt in the village. Only the rector knows her story--she has +made herself very beloved in Eastworld, even in the short time she has +been there. I asked her, first of all, about her life in general. Then, +without in any way indicating the object of my visit--at that point--I +led the conversation up to the subject of the Palestine 'discovery.' Of +course she had heard of it, and knew all the details. The rector had +preached upon it, and the whole village, so it seems, was in a ferment +for a week or so. Then, in both Church and the Dissenting chapels--there +are two--the whole thing died away in a marvellous manner. The history +of it was extremely interesting. Every one came to service just the same +as usual, life went on in unbroken placidity. The fishermen, who compose +the whole population of the village, absolutely _refused_ to believe or +discuss the thing. So utterly different from townspeople! They simply +felt and knew intuitively that the statements made in the papers _must_ +be untrue. So without argument or worry they ignored it. Miss Hunt said +that the church has been fuller than ever before, the people coming as a +sort of stubborn protest against any attack upon the faith of their +fathers. For her own part, when she realised what the news meant or +would mean, Miss Hunt had a black time of terror and struggle. She is a +woman with a good brain, and saw at once what it would mean to her. Her +own words were infinitely pathetic. 'I went out on the sands,' she said, +'and walked for miles. Then when I was tired out I sat down and cried, +to think that there would never be any Jesus any more to save poor +girls. It seemed so empty and terrible, and I'd only been trying to be +good such a short time. I went to evensong when I got back; the bell was +tolling just as usual. And as I sat there I saw that it _couldn't_ be +true that Jesus was just a good man, and not God. I wondered at myself +for doubting, seeing what He'd done for me. If the paper was right, then +why was it I was so happy, happier than ever before in my life--although +I am going to die soon? Why was it that I could go away and leave Bob +and the old life? why was it that I could see Jesus in my walks, hear +the wind praying--feel that everything was speaking of Him?' That was +the gist of what she said, though there was much more. I wish I could +tell you adequately of the deep conviction in her voice and eyes. One +doesn't often see it, except in very old people. After this I began to +speak of our suspicions as delicately as possible. It was horribly +difficult. One was afraid of awakening old longings and recalling that +man's influence. I was relieved to find that she took it very well +indeed. Her feelings towards the man have undergone a complete change. +She fears him, not because he has yet an influence over her, but with a +hearty fear and horror of the life she was living with him. When I told +her what we thought, she began at once by saying that from what she knew +of Llwellyn he would not stop even at such wickedness as this. She said +that he only cared for two things, and kept them quite distinct. When he +is working he throws his whole heart into what he is doing, and he will +let no obstacle stand in his way. He wants to constantly assure himself +of his own pre-eminence in his work. He must be first at any cost. When +his work is over he dismisses it absolutely from his thoughts, and lives +entirely for gross, material pleasures. The man seems to pursue these +with a horrid, overwhelming eagerness. I gather that he must be one of +the coldest and most calculating sybarites that breathes. The actual +points I have gathered are these, and I think you will see that they are +extremely important. Llwellyn was indebted enormously to Schuabe. +Suddenly, Miss Hunt tells me, when Llwellyn's financial position began +to be very shaky, Schuabe forgave him the old debts and paid him a large +sum of money. Llwellyn paid off a lot of the girl's debts, and he told +her that the money had come from that source. It was not a loan this +time, he said to her, but a payment for some work he was about to do. He +also impressed the necessity of silence upon her. While away he wrote +several times to her--once from Alexandria, from one or two places on +the Continent, _and twice from the German hotel, the_ 'Sabîl,' _in +Jerusalem_." + +There was a sudden murmur from one or two men who were listening to +Gortre's narrative. He had long since forgotten to eat and was leaning +forward on the table. He paused for a moment, drank a glass of water, +and concluded: + +"This then is all that I know at present, but it gives us a basis. We +know that Sir Robert Llwellyn was staying privately at Jerusalem. Miss +Hunt was instructed to write to him under the name of the Rev. Robert +Lake, and she did so, thinking that his incognito was assumed owing to +the kind of pleasures he was pursuing, and especially because of his +recent knighthood. But in a week's time Miss Hunt has asked me to go +down to Eastworld again, as she has hopes of getting other evidence for +me. She will not say what this is likely to consist of, or, in fact, +tell me anything about it. But she has hopes." + +"This is of great importance, Gortre," said Sir Michael; "we have +something definite to go upon." + +"I will start again for Jerusalem without loss of a day," said Spence, +his whole face lighting up and hardening at the thought of active +occupation. + +"I was going to suggest it, Mr. Spence," said Sir Michael. "You will do +what is necessary better than any of us; your departure will attract +less notice. You will of course draw upon me for any moneys that may be +necessary. If in the course of your investigations it may be--and it is +extremely probable--may be necessary to buy the truth, of course no +money considerations must stand in the way. We are working for the peace +and happiness of millions. We are in very deep waters." + +Father Ripon gave a deep sigh. Then, in an instant, his face hardened +and flushed till it was almost unrecognisable. The others started back +from him in amazement. He began to tremble violently from the legs +upwards. Then he spoke: + +"God forgive me," he said in a thick, husky voice. "God forgive me! But +when I think of those two men, devils that they are, devils! when I +regard the broken lives, the suicides, the fearful mass of crime, I----" + +His voice failed him. The frightful wrath and anger took him and shook +him like a reed--this tall, black-robed figure--it twisted him with a +physical convulsion inexpressibly painful to witness. + +For near a minute Father Ripon stood among them thus, and they were +rigid with sympathy, with alarm. + +Then, with a heavy sob, he turned and fell upon his knees in silent +prayer. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +A SOUL ALONE ON THE SEA-SHORE + + +The little village of Eastworld is set on a low headland by the sea, +remote from towns and any haunt of men. The white cottages of the +fisherfolk, an inn, the church, and a low range of coast-guard +buildings, are the only buildings there. Below the headland there are +miles upon miles of utterly lonely sands which edge the sea in a great +yellow scimitar as far as the eye can carry, from east to west. + +Hardly any human footsteps ever disturb the vast virgin smoothness of +the sands, for the fisherfolk sail up the mouth of a sluggish tidal +river to reach the village. All day long the melancholy sea-birds call +to each other over the wastes, and away on the sky-line, or so it seems +to any one walking upon the sands, the great white breakers roll and +boom for ever. + +Over the flat expanses the tide, with no obstacle to slacken or impede +its progress, rushes with furious haste--as fast, so the fisherfolks +tell, as a good horse in full gallop. + +It was the beginning of the winter afternoon on the day after Gortre had +visited Eastworld. + +There was little wind, but the sky hung low in cold and menacing clouds, +ineffably cheerless and gloomy. + +A single figure moved slowly through these forbidding solitudes. It was +Gertrude Hunt. She wore a simple coat and skirt of grey tweed, a +tam-o'-shanter cap of crimson wool, and carried a walking cane. + +She had come out alone to think out a problem out there between the sea +and sky, with no human help or sympathy to aid her. + +The strong, passionate face was paler than before and worn by suffering. +Yet as she strode along there was a wild beauty in her appearance which +seemed to harmonise with the very spirit and meaning of the place where +she was. And yet the face had lost the old jaunty hardihood. Qualities +in it which had before spoken of an impudent self-sufficiency now were +changed to quiet purpose. There was an appeal for pity in the eyes which +had once been bright with shamelessness and sin. + +The woman was thinking deeply. Her head was bowed as she walked, the +lips set close together. + +Gortre's visit had moved her deeply. When she had heard his story +something within her, an intuition beyond calm reason, had told her +instantly of its truth. She could not have said why she knew this, but +she was utterly certain. + +Her long connection with Llwellyn had left no traces of affection now. +As she would kneel in the little windy church on the headland and listen +to the rector, an old friend of Father Ripon's, reading prayers, she +looked back on her past life as a man going about his business in +sunlight remembers some horrid nightmare of the evening past. She but +rarely allowed her thoughts to dwell upon the former partner of her sin, +but when she did so it was with a sense of shrinking and dislike. As the +new Light which filled her life taught, she endeavoured to think of the +man with Christian charity and sometimes to pray that his heart also +might be touched. But perhaps this was the most difficult of all the +duties she set herself, although she had no illusions about the past, +realised his kindness to her, and also that she had been at least as bad +as he. But now there seemed a great gulf between them which she never +cared to pass even in thought. + +Her repentance was so sincere and deep, her mourning for her misspent +life so genuine, that it never allowed her the least iota of spiritual +pride--the snare of weaker penitents when they have turned from evil +courses. Yet, try as she would, she could never manage to really +identify her hopes and prayers with Llwellyn in any vivid way. + +And now the young clergyman, the actual instrument of her own salvation +as she regarded him, had come to her with this story in which she had +recognised the truth. + +In sad and eloquent words he had painted for her what the great fraud +had meant to thousands. He told of upright and godly men stricken down +because their faith was not strong enough to bear the blow. There was +the curate at Wigan, who had shot himself and left a heart-breaking +letter of mad mockery behind him; there were other cases of suicide. +There was the surging tide of crime, rising ever higher and higher as +the clergy lost all their influence in the slums of London and the great +towns. He told her of Harold Spence, mentioning him as "a journalist +friend of mine," explaining what a good fellow he was, and how he had +overcome his temptations with the aid of religion and faith. And he +described his own return to Lincoln's Inn, the disorder, and Harold's +miserable story. She could picture it all so well, that side of life. +She knew its every detail. And, moreover, Gortre had said "the evil was +growing and spreading each day, each hour." True as it was that the +myriad lamps of the Faithful only burned the brighter for the +surrounding gloom, yet that gloom was growing and rolling up, even as +the clouds on which her unseeing eyes were fixed as she walked along the +shore. Men were becoming reckless; the hosts of evil triumphed on every +side. + +The thought which came to her as Gortre had gradually unfolded the +object of his visit was startling. She herself might perhaps prove to be +the pivot upon which these great events were turning. It was possible +that by her words, that by means of her help, the dark conspiracy might +be unveiled and the world freed from its burden. She herself might be +able to do all this, a kind of thank-offering for the miraculous change +that had been wrought in her life. + +Yet, when it was all summed up, how little she had to tell Gortre after +all! True, her information was of some value; it seemed to confirm what +he and his friends suspected. But still it was very little, and it meant +long delay, if she could provide no other key to open this dark door. +And meanwhile souls were dying and sinking.... + +She had asked Gortre to come to her again in a week. + +In that time, she had said, she might have some further information for +him. + +And now she was out here, alone on the sands, to ask her soul and God +what she was to do. + +The clouds fell lower, a cutting wind began to moan and cry over the +sand, which was swept up and swirled in her face. And still she went on +with a bitterness and chill as of death in her heart. + +She knew her power over her former lover,--if that pure word could +describe such an unhallowed passion,--knew her power well. He would be +as wax in her hands, and it had always been so. From the very first she +had done what she liked with him, and there had always been an +undercurrent of contempt in her thoughts that a man could be led so +easily, could be made the doll and puppet of his own passion. Nor did +she doubt that her power still remained. She felt sure of that. Even in +her seclusion some news of his frantic attempts to find her had reached +her. Her beauty still remained, heightened indeed by the slow complaint +from which she was suffering. He knew nothing of that. And, as for the +rest--the rouge-pot, the belladonna--well, they were still available, +though she had thought to have done with them for ever. + +The idea began to emerge from the mist, as it were, and to take form and +colour. She thought definitely of it, though with horror; looked it in +the face, though shuddering as she did so. + +It resolved itself into a statement, a formula, which rang and dinned +itself repeatedly into her consciousness like the ominous strokes of a +bell heard through the turmoil of the gathering storm,-- + +"_If I go back to Bob and pretend I'm tired of being good, he will tell +me all he's done._" + +Over and over again the girl repeated the sentence to herself. It glowed +in her brain, and burnt it like letters of heated wire. She looked up at +the leaden canopy which held the wind, and it flashed out at her in +letters of violet lightning. The wind carved it in the sand,-- + +"_If I go back to Bob and pretend I'm tired of being good, he will tell +me what he has done._" + +Could she do this thing for the sake of Gortre, for the sake of the +world? What did it mean exactly? She would be sinning terribly once +more, going back to the old life. It was possible that she might never +be able to break away again after achieving her purpose; one did not +twice escape hell. It would mean that she sinned a deadly sin in order +to help others. Ought she to do that! Was that right? + +The wind fifed round her, shrieking. + +_Could she do this thing?_ + +She would only be sinning with her body, not with her heart, and Christ +would know why she did so. Would He cast her out for this? + +The struggle went on in her brain. She was not a subtle person, unused +to any self-communing that was not perfectly straightforward and simple. +The efforts she was making now were terribly hard for her to endure. Yet +she forced her mind to the work by a great effort of will, summoned all +her flagging energies to high consideration. + +If she went back it _might_ mean utter damnation, even though she found +out what she wanted to find out. She had been a Christian so short a +time, she knew very little of the truth about these matters. + +In her misery and struggle she began more and more to think in this way. + +Suddenly she saw the thing, as she fancied, and indeed said half aloud +to herself, "in a common-sense light." Her face worked horribly, though +she was quite unconscious of it. + +"It's better that one person, especially one that's been as bad as I +have, should go to hell than hundreds and thousands of others." + +And then her decision was taken. + +The light died out of her face, the hope also. She became old in a +sudden moment. + +And, with one despairing prayer for forgiveness, she began to walk +towards her cottage--there was a fast train to town. + +She believed that there could hardly be forgiveness for her act, and yet +the thought of "the others" gave her strength to sin. + +And so, out of her great love for Christ, this poor harlot set out to +sin a sin which she thought would take Him away from her for ever. + + +END OF BOOK II + + + + +BOOK III + + +" ... Woman fearing and trembling" + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WHAT IT MEANT TO THE WORLD'S WOMEN + + +In her house in the older, early-Victorian remnants of Kensington, Mrs. +Hubert Armstrong sat at breakfast. Her daughter, a pretty, +unintellectual girl, was pouring out tea with a suggestion of flippancy +in her manner. The room was grave and somewhat formal. Portraits of +Matthew Arnold, Professor Green, and Mark Pattison hung upon the sombre, +olive walls. + +Over the mantel-shelf, painted in ornamental chocolate-coloured letters, +the famous authoress's pet motto was austerely blazoned,-- + +"_The decisive events of the world take place in the intellect._" + +Indeed, save for the bright-haired girl at the urn, the room struck just +that note. It would be difficult to imagine an ordinary conversation +taking place there. It was a place in which solid chunks of thought were +gravely handed about. + +Mrs. Armstrong wore a flowing morning wrap of dark red material. It was +clasped at the smooth white throat by a large cameo brooch, a dignified +bauble once the property of George Eliot. The clear, steady eyes, the +smooth bands of shining hair, the full, calm lips of the lady were all +eloquent of splendid unemotional health, assisted by a careful system +of hygiene. + +She was opening her letters, cutting the envelopes carefully with a +silver knife. + +"Shall I give you some more tea, Mother?" the daughter asked in a +somewhat impatient voice. The offer was declined, and the girl rose to +go. "I'm off now to skate with the Tremaines at Henglers," she said, and +hurriedly left the room. + +Mrs. Armstrong sighed in a sort of placid wonder, as Minerva might have +sighed coming suddenly upon Psyche running races with Cupid in a wood, +and turned to another letter. + +It was written in firm, strong writing on paper headed with some +official-looking print. + + + THE WORLD'S WOMAN'S LEAGUE + + LONDON HEADQUARTERS, + 100 REGENT STREET, S. W. + + SECRETARY, MISS PAULL + + "MY DEAR CHARLOTTE,--I should be extremely glad to see you here + to-day about lunch time. I must have a long and important talk with + you. The work is in a bad way. I know you are extremely busy, but + trust to see you as the matters for conference are urgent. + Your affectionate Sister, + + "CATHERINE PAULL." + + +Miss Paull was a well-known figure in what may be called "executive" +life. Both she and her elder sister, Mrs. Armstrong, had been daughters +of an Oxford tutor, and had become immersed in public affairs early in +life. While the elder became a famous novelist and leader of "cultured +doubt," the younger had remained unmarried and thrown herself with great +eagerness into the movement which had for its object the strengthening +of woman's position and the lightening of her burdens, no less in +England than over the whole world. + +The "World's Woman's League" was a great unsectarian society with +tentacles all over the globe. The Indian lady missionaries and doctors, +who worked in the zenanas, were affiliated to it. The English and +American vigilance societies for the safe-guarding of girls, the women +of the furtive students' clubs in Russia, the Melbourne society for the +supply of domestic workers in the lonely up-country stations of +Australia, all, while having their own corporate and separate +existences, were affiliated to, and in communication with, the central +offices of the League in Regent Street. + +The League was all-embracing. Christian, non-Christian, or heathen, it +mattered nothing. It aimed at the gigantic task of centralising all the +societies for the welfare of women throughout the globe. + +On the board of directors one found the names and titles of all the +humanitarians of Europe. + +The working head of this vast organisation was the thin, active woman of +middle age whose name figured in a hundred blue-books, whose speeches +and articles were sometimes of international importance, whose political +power was undoubtable--Miss Catherine Paull. + +The most important function of the League, or one of its most important +functions, was the yearly publication of a huge report or statement of +more than a thousand pages. This annual was recognised universally as +the most trustworthy and valuable summary of the progress of women in +the world. It was quoted in Parliament a hundred times each session; its +figures were regarded as authoritative in every way. + +This report was published every May, and as Mrs. Hubert Armstrong drove +to Regent Street in her brougham she realised that points in connection +with it were to be discussed, possibly with the various sectional +editors, possibly with Miss Paull alone. + +As was natural, so distinguished an example of the "higher woman" as +Mrs. Armstrong was a great help to the League, and her near relationship +to the secretary made her help and advice in constant request. + +The office occupied two extensive floors in the quadrant, housing an +army of women clerks, typewriters, and a literary staff almost +exclusively feminine. Here, from morning till night, was a hum of busy +activity quite foreign to the office controlled by the more drone-like +men. Miss Paull contrived to interest the most insignificant of her +girls in the work that was to be done, making each one feel that in the +performance of her task lay not only the means of earning a weekly wage, +but of doing something for women all over the world. + +In short, the League was an admirable and powerful institution, presided +over by an admirable and earnest woman of wonderful organising ability +and the gift of tact, that _extreme_ tact necessary in dealing with +hundreds of societies officered and ruled by women whose official +activities did not always quell that feminine jealousy and bickering +which generally militate against success. + +It was some weeks since Mrs. Armstrong had seen her sister or +communicated with her. The great events in Jerusalem, the chaos into +which the holders of the old creeds had been thrown, had meant a series +of platform and journalistic triumphs for the novelist. Her importance +had increased a thousand-fold, her presence was demanded everywhere, and +she had quite lost touch with the League for a time. + +As she entered her sister's room she was beaming with satisfaction at +the memory of the past few weeks, and anticipating with pleasure the +congratulations that would be forthcoming. Miss Paull, in the main, +agreed with her sister's opinions, though her extraordinarily strenuous +life and busy activities in other directions prevented her public +adherence to them. + +Moreover, her position as head of the League, which included so many +definitely Christian societies, made it inadvisable for her to take a +prominent controversial part as Mrs. Armstrong did. + +The secretary's room was large and well lit by double windows, which +prevented the roar of the Regent Street traffic from becoming too +obtrusive. + +Except that there was some evidence of order and neatness on the three +great writing-tables, and that the books on the shelves were all in +their places, there was nothing to distinguish the place from the +private room of a busy solicitor or merchant. + +Perhaps the only thing which gave the place any really individual note +was a large brass kettle, which droned on the fire, and a sort of +sideboard with a good many teacups and a glass jar full of what seemed +to be sponge cakes. + +The two women greeted each other affectionately. Then Miss Paull sent +away her secretary, who had been writing with her, expressing her desire +to be quite alone for an hour or more. + +"I want to discuss the report with you, Charlotte," said Miss Paull, +deftly pouring some hot water into a green stone-ware teapot. + +She removed her _pince-nez_, which had become clouded with the steam, +and waited for Mrs. Armstrong to speak. + +"I expected that was it when I got your note, dear," said the novelist. +"I am sorry I have been so much away of late. But, of course, you will +have seen how my time has been taken up. Since all Our contentions have +been so remarkably established, of course one is looked to a great +deal. I have to be everywhere just at present. _John Mulgrave_ has been +through three more editions during the last fortnight." + +"Yes, Charlotte," answered the sister, "one hears of you on all sides. +It is a wonderful triumph from one point of view." + +Mrs. Armstrong looked up quickly, with surprise in her eyes. There was a +strange lack of enthusiasm in the secretary's tone. Indeed, it was even +less than unenthusiastic; it hinted almost of dislike, nearly of dismay. + +It could not be jealousy of the blaze of notoriety which had fallen upon +Mrs. Armstrong, the lady knew her sister too well for that. For one +brief moment she allowed herself the unworthy suspicion that Miss Paull +had been harbouring Christian leanings, or had, in the stress and worry +of overwork, permitted herself a sentimental adherence to the +Christ-myth. + +But it was only for a single moment that such thoughts remained in her +brain. She dismissed them at once as disloyal to her sister and +undignified for herself. + +"I don't quite understand, Catherine," she said. "Surely from _every_ +point of view this glorious vindication of the truth is of +_incalculable_ benefit to mankind. How can it be otherwise? Now that we +know the great teacher Jesus----" + +She was beginning somewhat on the lines of her public utterances, with a +slightly inspired look which, though habit had made mechanical, was +still sincere, when her sister checked her with some asperity. + +"That is all well and good," she said, her rather sharp, animated +features becoming more harsh and eager as she spoke. "You, Charlotte, +are at the moment concerned with the future and with abstractions. I am +busied with the present and with _facts_. However I may share your +gladness at this vindication, in my official capacity, and more, in the +interests of my life work, I am bound to deplore what has happened. I +deplore it grievously." + +Placid and equable as was her usual temper of mind, Mrs. Armstrong was +hardly proof against such a sweeping assertion as this. + +Her face flushed slightly. + +"Please explain," she said somewhat coldly. + +"That is why I wanted you to come to-day," answered Miss Paull. "I very +much fear you will be more than startled at what I have to tell you and +show you. My facts are all ready--piteous, heart-breaking facts, too. +_We_ know, here, what is going on below the surface. _We_ are confronted +by statistics, and theories pale before them. Our system is perfect." + +She made a movement of her arm and pointed to a small adjacent table, on +which were arranged various documents for inspection. + +The novelist followed the glance, curiously disturbed by the sadness of +the other's voice and the bitterness of her manner. "Show me what you +mean, dear," she said. + +Miss Paull got up and went to the table. "I will begin with points of +local interest," she said, "that is, with the English statistics. In +regard to these I will call your attention to a branch of the Social +Question. First of all, look at the monthly map for the current month +and the one for the month before the Palestine Discovery." + +She handed two outline maps of Great Britain and Ireland to her sister. + +The maps were shaded in crimson in different localities, the colour +being either light, medium, or dark. Innumerable figures were dotted +over them, referring to comprehensive marginal notes. Above each map was +printed: + + SERIES D.--CRIMES AGAINST WOMEN + +And the month and year were written in below in violet ink. + +Mrs. Armstrong held the two maps, which were mounted on stiff card, and +glanced from one to the other. Suddenly her face flushed, her eyes +became full of incredulous horror, and she stared at her sister. "What +is this, Catherine?" she said in a high, agitated voice. "Surely there +is some mistake? This is terrible!" + +"Terrible, indeed," Miss Paull answered. "During the last month, in +Wales, criminal assaults have increased _two hundred per cent_. In +England scarcely less. In Ireland, with the exception of Ulster, the +increase has been only eight per cent. I am comparing the map before the +discovery with that of the present month. Crimes of ordinary violence, +wife-beating and such like, have increased fifty per cent., on an +average, all over the United Kingdom. We have, of course, all the +convictions, sentences, and so forth. The local agents supply them to +the British Protection Society, they tabulate them and send them here, +and then the maps are made in this office ready for the annual report." + +"But," said Mrs. Armstrong with a shocked, pale face, "is it _certain_ +that this is a case of cause and effect?" + +"Absolutely certain, Charlotte. Here I have over a thousand letters from +men and women interested in the work in all the great towns. They are in +answer to direct queries on the subject. In order that there could be no +possibility of any sectarian bias, the form has been sent to leading +citizens, of all denominations and creeds, who are interested in the +work. I will show you two letters at random." + +She picked out two of the printed forms which had been sent out and +returned filled in, and gave them to Mrs. Armstrong. One ran: + + "_Kindly state what, in your opinion, is the cause of the abnormal + increase of crimes against women in Great Britain during the past + month, as shown by the annexed map_. + + "NAME. Rev. William Carr, + "Vicar of St. Saviour's, + "Birmingtown. + + "The recent 'discovery' in Palestine, which appears to do away with + the Resurrection of Christ, is in my opinion entirely responsible + for the increase of crime mentioned above. Now that the Incarnation + is on all hands said to be a myth, the greatest restraint upon + human passion is removed. In my district I have found that the + moment men give up Christ and believe in this 'discovery,' the + moment that the Virgin birth and the manifestation to the Magdalen + are dismissed as untrue, women's claim to consideration, and + reverence for women's chastity, in the eyes of these men disappear. + + "WILLIAM CARR." + +Mrs. Armstrong said nothing whatever, but turned to the other form. In +this case the name was that of a Manchester alderman, obviously a +Jew--Moses Goldstein, of Goldstein & Hildesheimer, chemical bleachers. + +In a flowing business hand the following remarks were written: + + "Regrettable increase of crime due in my opinion to sudden wave of + disbelief in Christian doctrines. Have questioned men in my own + works on the subject. Record this as fact without pretending to + understand it. Crimes of violence on increase among Jewish workmen + also. Probably sympathetic reaction against morality, though as a + strict Jew myself find this doubly distressing. + + "MOSES GOLDSTEIN." + +"The famous philanthropist," murmured Mrs. Armstrong. + +The lady seemed dazed. Her usual calm volubility seemed to have deserted +her. + +"This is a terrible blow," said Miss Paull, sadly, "and day by day +things are getting worse as figures come in. It seems as if all our work +has been in vain. Men seem to be relapsing into the state of the +barbaric heathen world. But there is much more yet. I will read you an +extract from Mrs. Mary P. Corbin's letter from Chicago. You will +remember that she is the organising secretary of the United States +branch of the League." + +She took up a bundle of closely typewritten sheets. + + "'The Friend to Poor Girls' Society' in this city reports a most + painful state of things. The work has suddenly fallen to pieces and + become totally disorganised. Many of the girls have left the home + and returned to lives of prostitution--there seems to be no + restraining influence left. In a few cases girls have returned, + after two or three weeks of sin, mere wrecks of their former + selves. A---- S---- was a well-known girl on the streets when she + was converted and brought to the home. Five weeks ago she went + away, announcing her intention of resuming her former life. She has + just returned in a dying condition from brutal ill-usage. She says + that her former experience was nothing to what she has lately + endured. Her words are terribly significant: '_I went back as I + thought it was no use being good any more now that there isn't any + Jesus. I thought I'd have a good old time. But it's not as it was. + Hell's broke loose in the streets. The men are a million times + worse than they were. It's hell now._' + + "Another awful blow has been struck at the purity work. The state + of the lower parts of Chicago and New York City has become so bad + that even the municipal authorities have become seriously alarmed. + Unmentionable orgies take place in public. Accordingly a bill is to + be rushed through Congress licensing so many houses of ill-fame in + each city ward, according to the Continental system." + +She laid down the letter. "There is no need to read more than extracts," +she said. "The letter is full of horrors. I may mention that the law +against polygamy in the Mormon State of Utah is on the point of being +repealed, and there can be no doubt that things will soon be as bad as +ever there. Here is a letter from the Bishop of Toomarbin, who is at +present in Melbourne, Australia. A Bill is preparing in the House of +Legislature to make the divorce laws for men as easy and simple as +possible, while women's privileges are to be greatly curtailed in this +direction. In Rhodesia the mine-captains are beginning to flog native +women quite unchecked by the local magistrates. English magistrates----" + +"Stop, dear," said Mrs. Armstrong, with a sudden gesture almost of fear. +There was a craven, hunted look in the eyes of this well-known woman. +Her face was blanched with pain. She sat huddled up in her chair. All +the stately confidence was gone. That proud bearing of equality, and +more than equality, with men, which was so noticeable a characteristic +of her port and manner, had vanished. + +The white hand which lifted a cup of scalding tea to her lips trembled +like a leaf. + +The sisters sat together in silence. They sat there, names famous in the +world for courage, ability, resource. To these two, perhaps more than to +any others in England, had been given the power of building up the great +edifice of women's enlightened position at the present day. + +And now? + +In a moment all was changed. The brute in man was awake, unchained, and +loose. The fires of cruelty and lust were lit, they heard the roaring of +the fires like the roaring of wolves that "devour apace and nothing +said." + +Mrs. Armstrong was terribly affected. Her keen intelligence told her at +once of coming horrors of which these were but the earliest signs. + +The roaring of a great fire, louder and more menacing, nearer ... +nearer. + +Christ had gone from the world never to return--Christ Whom the proud, +wishful, worldly woman had not believed in.... They were flogging girls, +selling girls ... the fires grew greater and greater ... nearer! + + MARY, PITY WOMEN! + + + + +CHAPTER II + +CYRIL HANDS REDUX + + +For the first two weeks after Hands's return he was utterly bewildered +by the rush of events in which he must take part and had little or no +time for thought. + +His days were filled by official conferences with his chiefs at the +Exploring Society, from which important but by no means wealthy body he +had suddenly attained more than financial security. + +Meeting succeeded meeting. Hands was in constant communication with the +heads of the Church, Government, and Society. Interviewers from all the +important papers shadowed him everywhere. Despite his protests, for he +was a quiet and retiring man, photographers fought for him, and his +long, somewhat melancholy face and pointed fair beard stared at him +everywhere. + +He had to read papers at learned societies, and afterwards women came +and carried him off to evening parties without possibility of escape. + +The Unitarians of England started a monster subscription for him, a +subscription which grew so fast that the less sober papers began to +estimate it day by day and to point out that the fortunate discoverer +would be a rich man for life. + +Everywhere he was flattered, caressed, and made much of. In fact, he +underwent what to some natures is the grimmest torture of a humane +age--he became the MAN OF THE HOUR. Even by Churchmen and others most +interested in denying the truth of the discovery, Hands was treated with +consideration and deference. His own _bona fides_ in the matter was +indubitable, his long and notable record forbade suspicion. + +Of Gortre Hands saw but little. Their greeting had been cordial, but +there was some natural restraint, one fearing the attitude of the other. +Gortre, no less than Hands, was much away from the chambers, and the +pair had few confidences. Hands felt, naturally enough under the +circumstances, that he would have been more comfortable with Spence. He +was surprised to find him absent, but all he was able to glean was that +the journalist had suddenly left for the Continent upon a special +mission. Hands supposed that Continental feeling was to be thoroughly +tested, and that the work had fallen to Spence. + +Meanwhile the invitations flowed in. The old staircase of the inn was +besieged with callers. In order to escape them, Hands was forced to +spend much time in the chambers on the other side of the landing, which +belonged to a young barrister, Kennedy by name, who was able to put a +spare sitting-room at his disposal. This gentleman, briefless and happy, +was somewhat of the Dick Swiveller type, and it gave him intense +pleasure to reconnoitre the opposite "oak" through the slit of his +letter-box, and to report and speculate upon those who stood knocking +for admission. + +How he loathed it all! + +The shock and surprise of it was not one of the least distressing +features. + +Far away in the ancient Eastern city he had indeed realised the +momentous nature of the strange and awful things he had found. But of +the consequences to himself he had thought nothing, and of the effects +on the world he had not had time to think. + +Hands had never wished to be celebrated. His temperament was poetic in +essence, retiring in action. He longed to be back under the eye of the +sun, to move among the memorials of the past with his Arab boys, to lie +upon the beach of the Dead Sea when no airs stirred, and, suddenly, to +hear a vast, mysterious breaker, coming from nowhere, with no visible +cause, like some great beast crashing through the jungle. + +And he had exchanged all this for lunches at institutions, for hot rooms +full of flowers and fools of women who said, "Oh, _do_ tell me all about +your delightful discovery," smiling through their paint while the +world's heart was breaking. And there was worse to come. At no distant +date he would have to stand upon the platform at the Albert Hall, and +Mr. Constantine Schuabe, M.P., Mrs. Hubert Armstrong, the writing +woman--the whole crowd of uncongenial people--would hand him a cheque +for some preposterous sum of money which he did not in the least want. +There would be speeches---- + +He was not made for this life. + +His own convictions of Christianity had never been thoroughly formulated +or marked out in his brain. All that was mystical in the great history +of Christ had always attracted him. He took an æsthetic pleasure in the +beautiful story. To him more than to most men it had become a vivid +_panoramic_ vision. The background and accessories had been part of his +daily life for years. It was as the figure of King Arthur and his old +knights might be to some loving student of Malory. + +And although his life was pure, his actions gentle and blameless, it had +always been thus to him--a lovely and poetic picture and no more. He +had never made a personal application of it to himself. His heart had +never been touched, and he had never heard the Divine Voice calling to +him. + +At the end of a fortnight Hands found that he could stand the strain no +longer. His nerves were failing him; there was a constant babble of +meaningless voices in his ear which took all the zest and savour from +life. His doctor told him quite unmistakably that he was doing too much, +that he was not inured to this gaiety, and that he must go away to some +solitude by the sea and rest. + +The advice not only coincided with his own wishes, but made them +possible. A good many engagements were cancelled, a paragraph appeared +in the newspapers to say that Mr. Hands's medical adviser had insisted +upon a thorough rest, and the man of the moment disappeared. Save only +Gortre and the secretary of the Exploring Society, no one knew of his +whereabouts. + +In a week he was forgotten. Greater things began to animate +Society--harsh, terrible, ugly things. There was no time to think of +Hands, the instrument which had brought them about. + +The doctor had recommended the remotest parts of Cornwall. Standing in +his comfortable room at Harley Street, he expatiated, with an +enthusiastic movement of his hand, upon the peace to be found in that +lost country of frowning rocks and bottle-green seas, where, so far is +it from the great centres of action, men still talk of "going into +England" as if it were an enterprise, an adventure. + +Two days found him at a lonely fishing cove, rather than village, +lodging in the house of a coast-guard, not far from Saint Ives. + +A few whitewashed houses ran down to the beach of the little natural +harbour where the boats were sheltered. + +On the shores of the little "Porth," as it was called, the fishermen sat +about with sleepy, vacant eyes, waiting for the signal of watchmen on +the moor above--the shrill Cornish cry of "Ubba!" "Ubba!" which would +tell them the mackerel were in sight. + +Behind the cove, running inland, were the vast, lonely moors which run +between the Atlantic and the Channel. It is always grey and sad upon +these rolling solitudes, sad and silent. The glory of summer gorse had +not yet clothed them with a fleeting warmth and hospitality. As far as +the eye could reach they stretched away with a forlorn immensity that +struck cold to Hands's heart. Peace was here indeed, but how austere! +quiet, but what a brooding and cruel silence! + +Every now and again the roving eye, in its search for incident and +colour, was caught and arrested by the bleak engine-house of some +ancient deserted mine and the gaunt chimney which pointed like a leaden +finger to the stormy skies above. Great humming winds swept over the +moor, driving flocks of Titanic clouds, an Olympian army in rout, before +their fierce breath. + +Here, day by day, Hands took his solitary walk, or sometimes he would +sit sheltered in a hollow of the jagged volcanic rocks which set round +about the cove a barrier of jagged teeth. Down below him a hard, green +sea boiled and seethed in an agony of fierce unrest. The black +cormorants in the middle distance dived for their cold prey. The +sea-birds were tossed on the currents of the wild air, calling to each +other with forlorn, melancholy voices. This remote Western world +resounded with the powerful voices of the waves; night and day the gongs +of Neptune's anger were sounding. + +In the afternoon a weary postman tramped over the moor. He brought the +London newspapers of the day before, and Hands read them with a strange +subjective sensation of spectatorship. + +So far away was he from the world that by a paradox of psychology he +viewed its turmoil with a clearer eye. As poetry is emotion remembered +in tranquillity, as a painter often prefers to paint a great canvas from +studies and memory--quiet in his studio--rather than from the actual but +too kinetic scene, so Hands as he read the news-sheets felt and lived +the story they had to tell far more acutely than in London. + +He had more time to think about what he read. It was in this lost corner +of the world that the chill began to creep over him. + +The furious sounds of Nature clamoured in his ears, assaulting them like +strongholds; these were the objective sounds. + +But as his subjective brain grew clear the words his eyes conveyed to it +filled it with a more awful reverberation. + +The awful weight grew. He began to realise with terrible distinctness +_the consequences_ of his discovery. They stunned him. A carved +inscription, a crumbling tomb in half an acre of waste ground. He had +stumbled upon so much and little more. _He_, Cyril Hands, had found +this. + +His straining eyes day by day turned to the columns of the papers. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + ALL YE INHABITANTS OF THE WORLD, AND DWELLERS ON THE EARTH, SEE YE, + WHEN HE LIFTETH UP AN ENSIGN ON THE MOUNTAINS.--ISAIAH XVIII: 3 + + +Hands awoke to terrible realisation. + +The telegrams in the newspapers provided him with a bird's-eye view, an +epitomised summary of a world in tumult. + +Out of a wealth of detail, culled from innumerable telegrams and +articles, certain facts stood out clearly. + +In the Balkan States, always in unrest, a crisis, graver than ever +before, suddenly came about. The situation _flared_ up like a petrol +explosion. + +A great revival of Mohammedan enthusiasm had begun to spread from +Jerusalem as soon as Europe had more or less definitely accepted the +discovery made by Cyril Hands and confirmed by the international +committee. + +It was no longer possible to hold the troops of the Sultan in check. It +was openly said by the correspondents that _instructions_ had been sent +from Yildiz Kiosk to the provincial Valis in both European and Asiatic +Turkey that Christians were to be exterminated, swept for ever from the +world. + +Telegrams of dire importance filled the columns of the papers. + +Hands would read in one _Daily Wire_: + + "PARIS (_From our own Correspondent_).--The Prince of Bulgaria has + indefinitely postponed his departure, and remains at the Hotel Ritz + for the present. It is impossible for him to progress beyond + Vienna. Dr. Daneff, the Bulgarian Premier, has arrived here. In the + course of an interview with a representative of _Le Matin_ he has + stated the only hope of saving the Christians remaining in the + Balkan States lies in the intervention of Russia. 'The situation,' + Dr. Daneff is reported to have said, 'has assumed the appearance of + a religious war. The followers of Islam are drunk with triumph and + hatred of the "Nazarenes." The recent discoveries in Jerusalem + simply mean a licence to sweep Christians out of existence. The + exulting cries of "Ashahadu, lá ílaha ill Allah" have already + sounded the death-knell of our ancient faith in Bulgaria.' M. + Daneff was extremely affected during the interview, and states that + Prince Ferdinand is unable to leave his room." + +Never before in the history of Eastern Europe had the future appeared so +gloomy or the present been so replete with horror. + +The massacres of bygone years were as nothing to those which were daily +flashed over the wires to startle and appal a world which was still +Christian, at least in name. + +An extract from a leading article in the _Daily Wire_ shows that the +underlying reason and cause was thoroughly appreciated and understood in +England no less than abroad. + + "In this labyrinth of myth and murder," the article said, "a + sudden and spontaneous outburst of hatred, of Mussulman hatred for + the Christian, has now--owing to the overthrow of the chief + accepted doctrine of the Christian faith--become a deliberate + measure of extermination adopted by a barbarous Government as the + simplest solution of the problem in the Near East. The stupendous + fact which has lately burst upon the world has had effects which, + while they might have been anticipated in some degree, have already + passed far beyond the bounds of the most confirmed political + pessimist's dream. + + "From the _fact_ of the Jerusalem discovery, ambitious agitators + have hurried to draw their profit. Politicians have not hesitated + to provoke a series of massacres, and by playing upon the worst + forms of Mussulman fanaticism to organise that ghastliest system of + crime upon the largest and most comprehensive scale. The whole + thing is, moreover, immensely complicated by the utter + unscrupulousness of that association universally notorious as the + Macedonian Committee. These people, who may be described as a + company of aspirants to the crown of immortality earned by other + people's martyrdom, have themselves assisted in the work of + lighting the fires of Turkish passion, and they have helped to + provoke atrocities which will enable them to pose before the eyes + of the civilised world as the interesting victims of Moslem + ferocity." + +Thus Hands read in his rock cave above the boiling winter sea. Thus and +much more, as the cloud grew darker and darker over Eastern Europe, +darker and darker day by day. + +In a week it became plain to the world that Bulgarians, Servians, and +Armenians alike had collapsed utterly before the insolent exultation of +the Turks. The spirit of resistance and enthusiasm had gone. The +ignorant and tortured peoples had no answer for those who flung foul +insults at the Cross. + +As reflected in the newspapers, the public mind in England was becoming +seriously alarmed at these horrible and daily bulletins, but neither +Parliament nor people were as yet ready with a suggested course of +action. The forces of disintegration had been at work; it seemed no +longer possible to secure a great _body_ of opinion as in the old times. +And Englishmen were troubled with grave domestic problems also. More +especially the great increase of the worst forms of crime attracted +universal attention and dismay. + +Then news came which shook the whole country to its depths. Men began to +look into each other's eyes and ask what these things might mean. + +Hands read: + + "Our special correspondent in Bombay telegraphs disquieting news + from India. The native regiments in Bengal are becoming difficult + to handle. The officers of the staff corps are making special + reports to headquarters. Three native officers of the 100th Bengal + Lancers have been placed under arrest, though no particulars as to + the exact reason for this step have been allowed to transpire." + +This first guarded intimation of serious disaffection in India was +followed, two days afterwards, by longer and far more serious reports. +The Indian mail arrived with copies of _The Madras Mail_ and _The Times +of India_, which disclosed much more than had hitherto come over the +cables. + +Long extracts were printed from these journals in the English dailies. + +Epitomised, Hands learned the following facts. From a mass of detail a +few lurid facts remained fixed in his brain. + +The well-meant but frequently unsuccessful mission efforts in Southern +India were brought to a complete and utter stand-still. + +By that thought-willed system of communication and the almost flame-like +mouth-to-mouth carnage of news which is so inexplicable to Western +minds, who can only understand the workings of the electric telegraph, +the whole of India seemed to be throbbing with the news of the downfall +of Christianity, and this within a fortnight of the publication of the +European report. + +From Cashmere to Travancore the millions whispered the news to each +other with fierce if secret exultation. + +The higher Hinduism, the key to the native character in India, the wall +of caste, rose up grim and forbidding. The passionate earnestness of the +missionaries was met by questions they could not answer. In a few days +the work of years seemed utterly undone. + +Europeans began to be insulted in the Punjaub as they had never been +since the days before the Mutiny. English officers and civilians also +began to send their wives home. The great P. and O. boats were +inconveniently crowded. + +In Afghanistan there was a great uneasiness. The Emir had received two +Russian officers. Russian troops were massing on the north-west +frontier. Fanatics began to appear in the Hill provinces, claiming +divine missions. People began to remember that every fourth man, woman, +and child in the whole human race is a Buddhist. Asia began to feel a +great thrill of excitement permeating it through and through. There were +rumours of a new incarnation of Buddha, who would lead his followers to +the conquest of the West. + +Troops from all over India began to concentrate near the Sri Ulang Pass +in the Hindu-Kush. + +Simultaneously with these ominous rumours of war came an extraordinary +outburst of Christian fanaticism in Russia. The peasantry burst into a +flame of anger against England. The priests of the Greek Church not only +refused to believe in the Palestine discovery, but they refused to +ignore it, as the Roman Catholics of the world were endeavouring to do. + +They began to preach war against Great Britain for its infidelity, and +the political Powers seized the opportunity to use religious fanaticism +for their own ends. + +All these events happened with appalling _swiftness_. + +In the remote Cornish village Hands moved as in a dream. His eyes saw +nothing of his surroundings, his face was pallid under the brown of his +skin. Sometimes, as he sat alone on the moors or by the sea, he laughed +loudly. Once a passing coast-guard heard him. The man told of it among +the fishermen, and they regarded their silent visitor with something of +awe, with the Celtic compassion for those mentally afflicted. + +On the first Sunday of his arrival Hands heard the deep singing of hymns +coming from the little white chapel on the cliff. He entered in time for +the sermon, which was preached by a minister who had walked over from +Penzance. + +Here all the turmoil of the world beyond was ignored. It seemed as +though nothing had ever been heard of the thing that was shaking the +world. The pastor preached and prayed, the men and women answered with +deep, groaning "Amens." It all mattered nothing to them. They heeded it +no more than the wailing wind in the cove. The voice of Christ was not +stilled in the hearts of this little congregation of the Faithful. + +This chilled the recluse. He could find no meaning or comfort in it. + +That evening he heard the daughter of the coast-guard with whom he +lodged singing. It was a wild night, and Hands was sitting by the fire +in his little sitting-room. Outside the wind and rain and waves were +shouting furiously in the dark. + +The girl was playing a few simple chords on the harmonium and singing to +them. + +"For ever with the Lord." + +An untuneful voice, louder than need be, but with what conviction! + +Hands tried to fix his attention on the newspaper which he held. + +He read that in Rhodesia the mine capitalists were moving for slavery +pure and simple. It was proposed openly that slavery should be the +penalty for law-breaking for natives. This was the only way, it +asserted, by which the labour problem in South Africa could be solved. + + "Life from the dead is in that word, + 'Tis immortality." + +It seemed that there was small opposition to this proposal. It would be +the best thing for the Kaffir, perhaps, this wise and kindly discipline. +So the proposal was wrapped up. + + "And nightly pitch my moving tent + A day's march nearer home." + +Hands saw that, quite suddenly, the _old horror of slavery had +disappeared_. + +This, too, was coming, then? This old horror which Christians had +banished from the world? + + "So when my latest breath + Shall rend the veil in twain." + +Hands started. His thoughts came back to the house in which he sat. The +girl's voice touched him immeasurably. He heard it clearly in a lull of +the storm. Then another tremendous gust of wind drowned it. + +Two great tears rolled down his cheeks. + +It was midnight, and all the people in the house were long since asleep, +when Hands picked up the last of his newspapers. + +It was Saturday's edition of the _London Daily Mercury_, the powerful +rival of the _Wire_. A woman who had been to Penzance market had brought +it home for him, otherwise he would have had to wait for it until the +Monday morning. + +He gazed wearily round the homely room. + +Weariness, that was what lay heavy over mind and body--an utter +weariness. + +The firelight played upon the crude pictures, the simple ornaments, the +ship worked in worsted when the coast-guard was a boy in the Navy, the +shells from a Pacific island, a model gun under a glass shade. But his +thoughts were not prisoned by these humble walls and the humble room in +which he sat. He heard the groaning of the peoples of the world, the +tramp of armies, the bitter cry of souls from whom hope had been plucked +for ever. + +He remembered the fair morning in Jerusalem when, with the earliest +light of dawn, he had gone to work with his Arab boys before the heat of +the day. + +From the Mosque of Omar he had heard the sonorous chant of the muezzin. + + "THE NIGHT HAS GONE WITH THE DARKNESS, AND THE DAY APPROACHES WITH + LIGHT AND BRIGHTNESS! + "PRAISE GOD FOR SECURING HIS FAVOUR AND KINDNESS! + "GOD IS MOST GREAT! GOD IS MOST GREAT! I TESTIFY THAT THERE IS NO + GOD BUT GOD! + "I TESTIFY THAT MOHAMMED IS THE APOSTLE OF GOD! + "COME TO PRAYER! + "COME TO SECURITY! + "PRAYER IS BETTER THAN SLEEP! + "GOD IS MOST GREAT! + "THERE IS NO GOD BUT GOD! + "ARISE, MAKE MORNING, AND TO GOD BE THE PRAISE!" + +He had heard the magnificent chant as he passed by, almost kneeling with +his Arabs. So short a time ago! Hardly three months--he had kept no +count of time lately, but it could hardly be four months. + +How utterly unconscious he had been on that radiant morning outside the +Damascus Gate! He had seen the men at work, and was sitting under his +sun-tent writing on his pad; he was just lighting a cigarette, he +remembered, when Ionides, the foreman, had come running up to him, his +shrewd, brown face wrinkled with excitement. + +And now, even as he sat there on that stormy midnight, far from the +world, even now the whole globe was echoing and reverberating with his +discovery. He had opened the little rock chambers, and it seemed that +the blows of the picks had set free a troop of ruinous spirits, who were +devastating mankind. + +Pandora's box--that legend fitted what he had done, but with a deadly +difference. + +He could not find that Hope remained. It would have been better a +thousand times if the hot Eastern sun had struck him down that distant +morning on his way through the city. + +The awful weight, the initial responsibility rested with _him_. + +_He_ alone had been the means by which the world was being shaken with +horrors--horrors growing daily, and that seemed as if the end would be +unutterable night. + +How the wind shrieked and wailed! + + =Egô Iôsêph ho apo Arimatheias.= + +The words were written in fire on his mind! + +The wind was shrieking louder and louder. + +The Atlantic boomed in one continuous burst of sound. + +He looked once more at the leading article in the paper. + +It was that article which was long afterwards remembered as the "Simple +Statement" article. + +The writer had spoken the thought that was by this time trembling for +utterance on the lips and in the brains of all Englishmen--the thought +which had never been so squarely faced, so frankly stated before. + +Here and there passages started out more vividly than the rest. The +words seemed to start out and stab him. + + * * * * * + + "--So much for INDIA, where, sprung from the same Cause, the + indications are impossible to mistake. + + "Let us now turn to the ANGLO-SAXON sprung communities other than + these Islands. + + "In AMERICA we find a wave of lawlessness and fierce riot passing + over the country, such as it has never known before. + + "The IRISHMEN and ITALIANS, who throng the congested quarters of + the great cities, are robbing and murdering PROTESTANTS and JEWS. + The UNITED STATES Legislature is paralysed between the necessity of + keeping order and the impossibility of resolution in the face of + this tremendous _bouleversement_ of belief. + + "From AUSTRALIA the foremost prelate of the great country writes of + the utter overthrow of a communal moral sense, and concludes his + communication with the following pathetic words: + + "_'Everywhere,'_ he says, _'I see morals, no less than the religion + which inculcates them, falling into neglect, set aside in a spirit + of despair by fathers and mothers, treated with contempt by youths + and maidens, spat upon and cursed by a degraded populace, assailed + with eager sarcasm by the polite and cultured.'_ + + * * * * * + + "The terrible seriousness of the situation need hardly be further + insisted on here. Its reality cannot be more vividly indicated than + by the statement of a single fact. + + "CONSOLS ARE DOWN TO SIXTY-FIVE + + * * * * * + + "--and therefore we demand, in the name of humanity, a far more + comprehensive and representative searching into the facts of the + alleged 'discovery' at JERUSALEM. Society is falling to pieces as we + write. + + "Who will deny the reason? + + "Already, after a few short weeks, we are learning that the world + cannot go on without Christianity. That is the Truth which the world + is forced to realise. And no essay in sociology, no special pleading + on the part of Scientists or Historians, can shake our conviction + that a creed which, when sudden doubts are thrown upon it, can be + the means of destroying the essential fabric of human society, is + not the true and unassailable creed of mankind. + + * * * * * + + "We foresee an immediate reaction. The consequences of the wave of + antichristian belief are now, and will be, so devastating, that sane + men will find in Disbelief and its consequences a glorious + recrudescence and assurance of Faith." + + * * * * * + +Hands stared into the dying fire. + +A solemn passage from John Bright's great speech on the Crimean War came +into his mind. The plangent power and deep earnestness of the words were +even more applicable now than then. + + _"The Angel of Death has been abroad throughout the land: you may + almost hear the beating of his wings. There is no one, as when the + first-born were slain of old, to sprinkle with blood the lintel and + two side-posts of our doors, that he may spare and pass on."_ + +So they were asking for another commission! Well, they might try that as +a forlorn hope, but _he knew_ that his discovery was real. Could _he_ be +mistaken possibly? Could that congress of the learned be all mistaken +and imposed upon? It was not possible. It could not be. Would that it +_were_ possible. + +There was no hope, despite the newspapers. For centuries the world had +been living in a fool's paradise. He had destroyed it. It would be a +hundred years before the echoes of his deed had died away. + +But the terrible weight of the world's burden was too heavy for him to +bear. He knew that. Not for much longer could he endure it. + +The life seemed oozing out of him, pressed out by a weight--the +sensation was physical. + +He wished it was all over. He had no hope for the future, and no fear. + +The weight was too heavy. The outside dark came through the walls, and +began to close in on him. His heart beat loudly. It seemed to rise up in +his throat and choke him. + +The pressure grew each moment; mountains were being piled upon him, +heavier, more heavy. + +The wind was but a distant murmur now, but the weight was crushing him. +Only a few more moments and his heart would burst. _At last!_ + +The dark thing huddled on the hearth-rug, which the girl found when she +came down in the morning, was the scholar's body. + +The newspaper he had been reading lay upon his chest. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A LUNCHEON PARTY + + +Constantine Schuabe's great room at the Hotel Cecil had been entirely +refurnished and arranged for the winter months. + +The fur of great Arctic beasts lay upon the heavy Teheran carpets, which +had replaced the summer matting--furs of enormous value. The dark red +curtains which hung by windows and over doors were worked with threads +of dull gold. + +All the chairs were more massive in material and upholstered warmly in +soft leather; the logs in the fireplace crackled with white flame, +amethyst in the glowing cavern beneath. + +However the winter winds might sweep over the Thames below or the rain +splash and welter on the Embankment, no sound or sign of the turmoil +could reach or trouble the people who moved in the fragrant warmth and +comfort of this room. + +For his own part Schuabe never gave any attention to the _mise-en-scène_ +by which he was surrounded, here or elsewhere. The head of a famous +Oxford Street firm was told to call with his artists and undermen; he +was given to understand that the best that could be done was to be done, +and the matter was left entirely to him. + +In this there was nothing of the _parvenu_ or of an ignorance of art, as +far as Schuabe was concerned. He was a man of catholic and cultured +taste. But experience had taught him that his furnishing firm were +trained to be catholic and cultured also, that an artist would see to it +that no jarring notes appeared. And since he knew this, Schuabe +infinitely preferred not to be bothered with details. In absolute +contrast to Llwellyn, his mind was always busy with abstractions, with +thought and forms of thought, things that cannot be handled or seen. +They were the real things for him always. + +The millionaire sat alone by the glowing fire. He was wearing a long +gown of camel's hair, dyed crimson, confined round the waist by a +crimson cord. In this easy garment and a pair of morocco slippers +without heels, he looked singularly Eastern. The whole face and figure +suggested that--sinister, lonely, and splendid. + +The morning papers were resting on a chair by his side. He was reading +one of them. + +It announced the death from heart disease of Mr. Cyril Hands while +taking a few days' rest in a remote village of Cornwall. Not a shadow of +regret passed over the regular, impassive face. The eyes remained in +fixed thought. He was logically going over the bearings of this event in +his mind. How could it affect _him_? _Would_ it affect him one way or +the other? + +He paced the long room slowly. On the whole the incident seemed without +meaning for him. If it meant anything at all it meant that his position +was stronger than ever. The voice of the discoverer was now for ever +silent. His testimony, his reluctant but convinced opinion, was upon +record. Nothing could alter that. Hands might perhaps have had doubts in +the future. He might have examined more keenly into the _way in which he +came to examine the ground_ where the new tomb was hidden. Yes, this was +better. That danger, remote as it had been, was over. + +As his eyes wandered over the rest of the news columns they became more +alert, speculative, and anxious. The world was in a tumult, which grew +louder and louder every hour. Thrones were rocking, dynasties trembling. + +He sank down in his chair with a sigh, passing his hand wearily over his +face. Who could have foreseen this? It was beyond belief. He gazed at +the havoc and ruin in terrified surprise, as a child might who had lit a +little fire of straw, which had grown and devoured a great city. + +It was in this very room--just over there in the centre--that he had +bought the brain and soul of the archæologist. + +The big man had stood exactly on that spot, blanched and trembling. His +miserable notes of hand and promises to pay had flamed up in this fire. + +And now? India was slipping swiftly away; a bloody civil war was brewing +in America; Central Europe was a smouldering torch; the whips of Africa +were cracking in the ears of Englishmen; the fortunes of thousands were +melting away like ice in the sun. In London gentlemen were going from +their clubs to their houses at night carrying pistols and sword-sticks. +North of Holborn, south of the Thames, no woman was safe after dark had +fallen. + +He saw his face in an oval silver glass. It fascinated him as it had +never done before. He gripped the leather back of a chair and stared +fiercely, hungrily, at the image. It was _this_, this man he was +looking at, some stranger it seemed, who had done all this. He +laughed--a dreadful, mirthless, hollow laugh. This mass of phosphates, +carbon, and water, this moving, talking thing in a scarlet gown, was the +pivot on which the world was turning! + +His brain became darkened for a time, lost in an awful wonder. He could +not realise or understand. + +And no one knew save his partner and instrument. _No one knew!_ + +The secret seemed to be bursting and straining within him like some +live, terrible creature that longed to rush into light. For weeks the +haunting thought had grown and harassed him. It rang like bells in his +memory. If only he could share his own dark knowledge. He wanted to take +some calm, pale woman, to hold her tight and tell her all that he had +done, to whisper it into her ears and watch the mask of flesh change and +shrink, to see his words carve deep furrows in it, sear the eyes, burn +the colour from the lips. He saw his own face was working with the mad +violence of his imaginings. + +He _wrenched_ his brain back into normal grooves, as an engineer pulls +over a lever. He was half-conscious of the simile as he did so. + +Turning away from the mirror, he shuddered as a man who has escaped from +a sudden danger. + +_That_ above all things was fatal. His luxuriant Eastern imagination had +been checked and kept in subjection all his life; the force of his +intellect had tamed and starved it. He knew, none better, the end, the +extinction of the brain that has got beyond control. No, come what may, +he must watch himself cunningly that he did not succumb. A tiny speck in +the brain, and then good-bye to thought and life for ever. He was a +visitor of the Lancashire Asylum--had been so once at least--and he had +seen the soulless lumps of flesh the doctors called "patients." ... "_I +am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul_," he repeated +to himself, and even as he did so, his other self sneered at the +weakness which must comfort itself with a poet's rhyme and cling to an +apothegm for readjustment. + +He tried to shut out the world's alarm from his mental eyes and ears. + +He went back to the scenes of his first triumph. They had been sweet +indeed. + +Yes! worth all the price he had paid and might be called upon to pay. + +All over England his life's thought, his constant programme had been +gloriously vindicated. They had hailed him as the prophet of Truth at +first--a prophet who had cried in the wilderness for years, and who had +at last come into his own. + +The voices of great men and vast multitudes had come to him as incense. +He was to be the leader of the new religion of common sense. Why had +they doubted him before, led away by the old superstitions? + +Men who had hated and feared him in the old days, had spoken against him +and his doctrines as if both were abhorred and unclean, were his friends +and servants now. Christians had humbled themselves to the +representative of the new power. Bishops had consulted him as to the +saving of the Church, and its reconstruction upon "newer, broader, more +illuminated lines." They had come to him with fear--anxious, eager to +confess the errors of the past, swift to flatter and suggest that, with +his help, the fabric and political power of the Church might yet stand. + +He was shown, with furtive eyes and hesitating lips, from which the +shame had not yet been cleansed, how desirable and necessary it was that +in the reconstruction of Christianity the Church should still have a +prominent and influential part. + +He had been a colossus among them all. But--and he thought of it with +anger and the old amazement--all this had been _at first_, when the +discovery had flashed over a startled world. While the thing was new it +had been a great question, truly the greatest of all, but it had been +one which affected men's minds and not their bodies. That is speaking of +the world at large. + +As has already been pointed out, only _religious_ people--a vast host, +but small beside the mass of Englishmen--were disturbed seriously by +what had happened. The price of bread remained the same; beef was no +dearer. + +During these first weeks Schuabe had been all-powerful. He and his +friends had lived in a constant and stupendous triumph. + +But now--and in his frightful egoism he frowned at the thick black +head-lines in the newspapers--the whole attitude of every one was +changed. There was a reflex action, and in the noise it made Schuabe was +forgotten. + +Men had more to think of now. There was no time to congratulate the man +who had been so splendidly right. + +_Consols were at 65!_ + +Bread was rising each week. War was imminent. On all sides great +mercantile houses were crashing. Each fall meant a thousand minor +catastrophes all over the country. + +The antichristians had no time to jeer at the Faithful; they must work +and strain to save their own fortunes from the wreck. + +The mob, who were swiftly bereft of the luxuries which kept them in +good-humour, were turning on the antichristian party now. In their +blind, selfish unreason they cried them down, saying that they were +responsible for the misery and terror that lay over the world. + +With an absolute lack of logic, the churches were crowded again. The +most irreligious cried for the good old times. Those who had most +coarsely exulted over the broken Cross now bewailed it as the most awful +of calamities. + +Christianity was daily being terribly avenged through the pockets and +stomachs of the crowd! + +It was bizarre beyond thinking, sordid in its immensity, vulgar in its +mighty soulless greed, but TRUE, REAL, a FEARFUL FACT. + +A stupendous _confusion_. + +Two great currents had met in a maelstrom. The din of the disturbance +beat upon the world's ear with sickening clamour. + +Louder and louder, day by day. + +And the man who had done all this, the brain which had called up these +legions from hell, which had loosed these fiery sorrows on mankind, was +in a rich room in a luxurious hotel, alone there. Again the shock and +marvel took hold of the man and shook him like a reed. + +There was a round table, covered with a gleaming white cloth, by the +fire. The kidneys in the silver dish were cold, the grease had +congealed. The silent servants had brought up a breakfast to him. He had +watched their clever, automatic movements. Did they know _whom_ they +were attending on, what would happen--? + +His thoughts flashed hither and thither, now surveying a world in +torture, now weaving a trivial and whimsical romance about a waiter. The +frightful activity of his brain, inflamed by thoughts beyond the power +of even that wonderful machine, began to have a consuming physical +effect. + +He felt the grey matter bubbling. Agonising pains shot from temple to +temple, little knives seemed hacking at the back of his eyes. Once +again, in a wave of unutterable terror, the fear of madness submerged +him. + +On this second occasion he was unable to recall his composure by any +effort which came from within himself. He stumbled into his adjoining +dressing-room and selected a bottle from a shelf. It was bromide of +potassium, which he had been taking of late to deaden the clamour and +vibration of his nerves. + +In half an hour the drug had calmed him. His face was very pale, but set +and rigid. The storm was over. He felt shattered by its violence, but in +an artificial peace. + +He took a cigarette. + +As he was lighting it his valet entered and announced that Mr. Dawlish, +his man of business, was waiting in an anteroom. + +He ordered that he should be shown in. + +Mr. Dawlish was the junior partner of the well-known firm of city +solicitors, Burrington & Tuite. That was his official description. In +effect he was Schuabe's principal man of business. All his time was +taken up by the millionaire's affairs all over England. + +He came in quickly--a tall, well-dressed man, hair thin on the forehead, +moustache carefully trained. + +"You look very unwell, Mr. Schuabe," he said, with a keen glance. "Don't +let these affairs overwhelm you. Nothing is so dangerous as to let the +nerves go in times like these." + +Schuabe started. + +"How are things, Dawlish?" he said. + +"Very shaky, very shaky, indeed. The shares of the Budapest Railway are +to be bought for a shilling. I am afraid your investments in that +concern are utterly lost. When the Bourses closed last night dealings in +Foreign Government Stock were at a stand-still. Turkish C and O bonds +are worthless." + +Again the millionaire started. "You bring me a record of disaster," he +said. + +"Baumann went yesterday," continued the level voice. + +"My cousin," said Schuabe. + +"The worst of it is that the situation is getting worse and worse. We +have, as you know, made enormous efforts. But all attempts you have made +to uphold your securities have only been throwing money away. The last +fortnight has been frightful. More than two hundred thousand pounds have +gone. In fact, an ordinary man would be ruined by the last month or two. +Your position is better because of the real property in the Manchester +mills." + +"Trade has almost ceased." + +"Close the mills down and wait. You cannot go on." + +"If I do, ten thousand men will be let loose on the city with nothing +but the Union funds to fall back on." + +"If you don't, you will be what Baumann is to-day--a bankrupt." + +"I have eighty thousand cash on deposit at the Bank of England." + +"And if you throw that away after the rest you will be done for. You +don't realise the situation. It _can't_ recover. War is inevitable. +India will go, I feel it. England is going to turn into a camp. Religion +is the pretext of war everywhere. Take your money from the Bank in cash +and lock it up in the Safe Deposit strong rooms. Keep that sum, earning +nothing, for emergencies, then wait for the other properties to recover. +It will be years perhaps, but you will win through in the end. The +freehold sites of the mills are alone worth almost anything. It is only +_paper_ millionaires that are easily ruined. You are a great property +owner. But you must walk very warily, even you. Who could have foreseen +all this? I see that fellow Hands is dead--couldn't stand the sight of +the mischief he'd done, I suppose. The fool! the eternal fool! why +couldn't he have kept his sham discovery to himself? Look at the +unutterable misery it has brought on the world." + +"You yourself, Dawlish, are you suffering the common fate?" + +"I? Certainly not! That is to say, I suffer of course, but not fatally. +All my investments are in buildings in safe quarters. I may have to +reduce rents for a year or two, but my houses will not be empty. And +they are my own." + +"Fortunate man," said Schuabe; "but why _sham_ discovery?" + +"Out of business hours," said the solicitor, with some stiffness and +hesitation, "I am a Roman Catholic, Mr. Schuabe. Good-morning. I will +send the transfer round for you to sign." + +The cool, machine-like man went away. The millionaire knew that his +fortune was tottering, but it moved him little. He knew that his power +in the country was nearly over, had dwindled to nothing in the stir of +greater things around. Money was only useful as a means of power, and +with a sure prescience he saw that he would never regain his old +position. + +The hour was over. + +Whatever would be the outcome of these great affairs, the hour was past +and over. + +The one glowing thought which burned within him, and seemed to be eating +out his life, was the awful knowledge that he and no other man had set +in motion this terrible machinery which was grinding up the civilised +world. + +Day and night from that there was no relief. + +His valet again entered and reminded his master that some people were +coming to lunch. He went away and began to dress with the man's help. + +The guests were only two in number. One was Ommaney, the editor of the +_Daily Wire_, the other Mrs. Hubert Armstrong. + +Both the lady and gentleman came in together at about two o'clock. + +Mrs. Armstrong was much changed in appearance. Her face had lost its +serenity; her manner was quick and anxious; her voice strained. + +The slim, quiet editor, on the other hand, seemed to be untouched by +worry. Quiet and inscrutable as ever, the only change in him, perhaps, +was a slight briskness, an aroma rather than an actual expression of +good humour and _bien-être_. + +They sat down to the meal. Schuabe, in his dark grey frock-coat, the +careful _ensemble_ of his dress no less than the regular beauty of his +face--now smooth and calm--seemed to be beyond all mundane cares. Only +the lady was ill at ease. + +The conversation at first was all of the actual news of the day, as it +had appeared in the morning's newspapers. Hands's death was discussed. +"Poor fellow!" said Mrs. Armstrong, with a sigh; "it is sad to think of +his sudden ending. The burden was too much for him to bear. I can +understand it when I look round upon all that is happening; it is +terrible!" + +"Surely you do not regret the discovery of the truth?" said Schuabe, +quickly. + +"I am beginning to fear truth," said the lady. "The world, it seems, was +not ripe for it. In a hundred years, perhaps, our work would have paved +the way. But it is premature. Look at the chaos all around us. The +public has ceased to think or read. They are reading nothing. Three +publishers have put up the shutters during the week." + +The journalist interrupted with a dry chuckle. "They are reading the +_Daily Wire_," he said; "the circulation is almost doubled." He sent a +congratulatory glance to Schuabe. + +The millionaire's great holding in the paper was a secret known only to +a few. In the stress of greater affairs he had half forgotten it. A +swift feeling of relief crossed his brain as he realised what this meant +to his tottering fortunes. + +"Poor Hands!" said the editor, "he was a nice fellow. Rather unpractical +and dreamy, but a nice fellow. Owing to him we had the greatest chance +that any paper has ever had in the history of journalism. We owe him a +great debt. The present popularity and influence of the paper has +dwarfed, positively dwarfed, all its rivals. I have given the poor +fellow three columns to-day; I wish I could do more." + +"Do you not think, Mr. Ommaney," asked Mrs. Armstrong, "that in the +enormous publication of telegrams and political foreign news, the +glorious fact that the world has at last awakened to a knowledge of the +glorious truths of real religion is being swamped and forgotten? After +all, what will be the greatest thing in history a hundred years from +now? Will it not be the death of the old superstitions rather than a +mutiny in the East or a war with Russia? Will not the names of the +pioneers of truth remain more firmly fixed in the minds of mankind than +those of generals and chancellors?" + +The editor made it quite plain that these were speculations with which +he had nothing whatever to do. + +"It's dead, Mrs. Armstrong," he said brutally. "The religious aspect is +utterly dead, and wouldn't sell an extra copy of the paper. It would be +madness to touch it now. The public gaze is fixed on Kabul River and +St. Petersburg, Belgrade and Constantinople. They have almost forgotten +that Jerusalem exists. I sent out twelve special correspondents ten days +ago." + +Mrs. Armstrong sighed deeply. It was true, bitterly true. She was no +longer of any importance in the public eye. No one asked her to lecture +now. The mass meetings were all over. Not a single copy of _John +Mulgrave_ had been sold for a month. How differently she had pictured it +all on that winter's morning at Sir Michael's; how brightly and +gloriously it had begun, and now how bitter the _dénouement_, how +utterly beyond foresight? What was this superstition, this Christianity +which in its death struggles could overthrow a world? + +"_The decisive events of the world occur in the intellect._" Yes, but +how soon do they leave their parent and outstrip its poor control? + +There was no need for women _now_. That was the bitterest thought of +all. The movement was over--done with. A private in the Guards was a +greater hero than the leader of an intellectual movement. What a +monstrous _bouleversement_ of everything! + +Again the lady sighed deeply. + +"No," she said again, "the world was not yet strong enough to bear the +truth. I have sold my Consols," she continued; "I have been advised to +do so. I was investing for my daughter when I am gone. Newspaper shares +are the things to buy now, I suppose! My brokers told me that I was +doing the wisest thing. They said that they could not recover for +years." + +"The money market is a thing in which I have very little concern except +inasmuch as it affects large public issues," said the editor. "I leave +it all to my city editor and his staff--men in whom I have the greatest +possible trust. But I heard a curious piece of news last night. I don't +know what it portends; perhaps Mr. Schuabe can tell me; he knows all +about these things. Sir Michael Manichoe, the head of the Church +political party, you know has been buying Consols enormously. Keith, my +city editor, told me. He has, so it appears, invested enormous sums. +Consols will go up in consequence. But even then I don't see how he can +repay himself. They cannot rise much." + +"I wonder if I was well advised to sell?" said Mrs. Armstrong, +nervously. "They say Sir Michael never makes a mistake. He must have +some private information." + +"I don't think that is possible, Mrs. Armstrong," Ommaney said. "Of +course Sir Michael may very likely know something about the situation +which is not yet public. He may be reckoning on it. But things are in +such hopeless confusion that no sane speculator would buy for a small +rise which endured for half a day. He would not be able to unload +quickly enough. It seems as if Sir Michael is buying for a permanent +recovery. And I assure you that nothing can bring _that_ about. Only one +thing at least." + +"What is that?" asked both Mrs. Armstrong and Schuabe together. + +The editor paused, while a faint smile flickered over his face. "Ah," he +said, "an impossibility, of course. If any one discovered that 'The +Discovery' was a fraud--a great forgery, for instance--_then_ we should +see a universal relief." + +"_That_, of course, is asking for an impossibility," said Mrs. +Armstrong, rather shortly. She resented the somewhat flippant tone of +the great man. + +These things were all her life. To Ommaney they but represented a +passing panorama in which he took absolutely no _personal_ interest. The +novelist disliked and feared this detachment. It warred with her strong +sense of mental duty. The highly trained journalist, to whom all life +was but news, news, news, was a strange modern product which warred with +her sense of what was fitting. + +"You're not well!" said the editor, suddenly turning to Schuabe, who had +grown very pale. His voice reassured them. + +It was without a trace of weakness. + +The "Perfectly, thank you" was deliberate and calm as ever. Ommaney, +however, noticed that, with a very steady hand, the host poured out +nearly a tumbler of Burgundy and drank it in one draught. + +Schuabe had been taking nothing stronger than water hitherto during the +progress of the meal. + +The man who had been waiting had just left the room for coffee. After +Ommaney had spoken, there was a slight, almost embarrassed, silence. A +sudden interruption came from the door of the room. + +It opened with a quick push and turn of the handle, quite unlike the +deliberate movements of any one of the attendants. + +Sir Robert Llwellyn strode into the room. It was obvious that he was +labouring under some almost uncontrollable agitation. The great face, +usually so jolly and fresh-coloured, was ghastly pale. There was a fixed +stare of fright in the eyes. He had forgotten to remove his silk hat, +which was grotesquely tilted on his head, showing the hair matted with +perspiration. + +Ommaney and Mrs. Armstrong sat perfectly still. + +They were paralysed with wonder at the sudden apparition of this famous +person, obviously in such urgent hurry and distress. + +Then, with the natural instinct of well-bred people, their heads turned +away, their eyes fell to their plates, and they began to converse in an +undertone upon trivial matters. + +Schuabe had risen with a quick, snake-like movement, utterly unlike his +general deliberation. In a moment he had crossed the room and taken +Llwellyn's arm in a firm grip, looking him steadily in the face with an +ominous and warning frown. + +That clear, sword-like glance seemed to nerve the big man into more +restraint. A wave of artificial composure passed over him. He removed +his hat and breathed deeply. + +Then he spoke in a voice which trembled somewhat, but which nevertheless +attained something of control. + +"I am really very sorry," he said, with a ghastly attempt at a smile, +"to have burst in upon you like this. I didn't know you had friends with +you. Please excuse me. But the truth is--the truth is, that I am in +rather a hurry to see you. I have an important message for you from--" +he hesitated a single moment before he found the ready lie--"from Lord +----. There are--there is something going on at the House of Commons +which--But I will tell you later on. How do you do, Mrs. Armstrong? How +are you, Ommaney? Fearfully rushed, of course! We archæologists are the +only people who have leisure nowadays. No, thanks, Schuabe, I lunched +before I came. Coffee? Oh, yes; excellent!" + +His manner was noticeably forced and unnatural in its artificial +geniality. The man, who had now entered with coffee, brought the tray to +him, but instead of taking any he half filled an empty cup with Kümmel +and drank it off. + +His hurried explanation hardly deceived the two shrewd people at the +table, but at least it made it obvious that he wished to be alone with +their host. + +There was a little desultory conversation over the coffee, in which +Llwellyn took a too easy and hilarious part, and then Mrs. Armstrong got +up to go. + +Ommaney followed her. + +Schuabe walked with them a little way down the corridor. While he was +out of the room, Llwellyn walked unsteadily to a sideboard. With shaking +hand he mixed himself a large brandy-and-soda. His shaking hands, the +intense greed with which he swallowed the mixture, were horrible in +their sensual revelation. The mask of pleasantness had gone; the reserve +of good manners disappeared. + +He stood there naked, as it were--a vast bulk of a man in deadly fear. + +Schuabe came back and closed the door silently. He drew Llwellyn to the +old spot, right in the centre of the great room. There was a wild +question in his eyes which his lips seemed powerless to utter. + +"Gertrude!" gasped the big man. "You know she came back to me. I told +you at the club that it was all right between us again?" + +An immeasurable relief crossed the Jew's face. He pushed his friend away +with a snarl of concentrated disgust. + +"You come here," he hissed venomously, "and burst into my rooms to tell +me of your petty _amours_. Have I not borne with the story of your lust +and degradation enough? You come here as if the--." He stopped suddenly. +The words died away on his lips. + +Llwellyn was transformed. + +Even in his terror and agitation an ugly sneer blazed out upon his face. +His nostrils curled with evil laughter. His voice became low and +threatening. Something subtly _vulgar_ and _common_ stole into it. It +was this last that arrested Schuabe. It was horrible. + +"Not quite so fast, my good friend," said Llwellyn. "Wait and hear my +story; and, confound you! if you talk to me like that again, I'll kill +you! Things are equal now, my Jewish partner--equal between us. If I am +in danger, why, so are you; and either you speak civilly or you pay the +penalty." + +A curious thing happened. The enormous overbearing brutality of the man, +his _vitality_, seemed to cow and beat down the master mind. + +Schuabe, for the moment, was weak in the hands of his inferior. As yet +he had heard nothing of what the other had come to tell; he was +conscious only of hands of cold fear knocking at his heart. + +He seemed to shrink into himself. For the first and last time in his +life, the inherited slavishness in his blood asserted itself. + +He had never known such degradation before. The beauty of his face went +out like an extinguished candle. His features grew markedly Semitic; he +cringed and fawned, as his ancestors had cringed and fawned before fools +in power hundreds of years back. + +This inexpressibly disgusting change in the distinguished man had its +immediate effect upon his companion. It was new and utterly startling. +He had come to lean on Schuabe, to place the threads of a dreadful +dilemma in his hand, to rest upon his master mind. + +So, for a second or two, in loathsome pantomime the men bowed and +salaamed to each other in the centre of the room, not knowing what they +did. + +It was Sir Robert who pulled himself together first. The fear which was +rushing over him in waves gave him back a semblance of control. + +"We must not quarrel now," he said in a swift, eager voice. "Listen to +me. We are on the brink of terrible things. Gertrude Hunt came back to +me, as you know. She told me that she was sick to death of her friends +the priests, that the old life called her, that she could not live +apart from me. She mocked at her sudden conversion. I thought that it +was real. I laughed and mocked with her. I trusted her as I would trust +myself." + +He paused for a moment, choking down the immense agitation which rose up +in his throat and half strangled speech. + +Schuabe's eyes, attentive and fixed, were still uncomprehending. Still +the Jew did not see whither Llwellyn was leading--could not understand. + +"She's gone!" said the big man, all colour fading absolutely from his +face. "And, Schuabe, in my mad folly and infatuation, in my incredible +foolishness ... _I told her everything_." + +A sudden sharp animal moan burst from Schuabe's lips--clear, vibrant, +and bestial in the silence. + +His rigidity changed into an extraordinary trembling. It was a temporary +palsy which set every separate limb trembling with an independent +motion. He waited thus, with an ashen face, to hear more. + +Llwellyn, when the irremediable fact had passed his lips, when the +enormous difficulty of confession was surmounted, proceeded with slight +relief: + +"This might, you will think, be just possibly without significance for +us. It might be a coincidence. _But it is not so, Schuabe._ I know now, +as certainly as I can know anything, that she came to me, was sent to +me, by the people who have got hold of her. _There has been suspicion +for some time_, there must have been. We have been ruined by this woman +I trusted." + +"But why ... how?" + +"Because, Schuabe, as I was walking down Chancery Lane not an hour since +I saw Gertrude come out of Lincoln's Inn with the clergyman Gortre. They +got into a cab together and drove away. And more: I learn from Lambert, +my assistant at the Museum, that Harold Spence, the journalist, who is a +member of his club and a friend of his, _left for Palestine several +days ago_." + +"I have just heard," whispered Schuabe, "that Sir Michael Manichoe has +been buying large parcels of Consols." + +"The thing is over. We must----" + +"Hush!" said the Jew, menacingly. "All is not lost yet. Perhaps, the +strong probability is, that only this Gortre knows yet. Even if anything +is known to others, it is only vague, and cannot be substantiated until +the man in Palestine gets a letter. Without this woman and Gortre we are +safe." + +The Professor looked at him and understood. Nor was there any terror in +his face, only a faint film of relief. + +Five minutes afterwards the two distinguished men, talking easily +together, walked through the vestibule of the hotel, down the great +courtyard and into the roaring Strand. + +A hotel clerk explained the celebrities to a voluble group of American +tourists as they went by. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +BY THE TOWER OF HIPPICUS + + +Harold Spence was essentially a man of action. His mental and moral +health depended for its continuance upon the active prosecution of +affairs more than most men's. + +A product of the day, "modern" in his culture, modern in his ideals, he +must live the vivid, eager, strenuous life of his times or the fibres of +his brain became slack and loosened. + +In the absorbing interest of his first mission to the East Spence had +found work which exactly suited his temperament. It was work which keyed +him up to his best and most successful efforts. + +But when that was over, when the news that he had given brilliantly to +the world became the world's and was no longer his, then the reaction +set in. + +The whole man became relaxed and unstrung; he was drifting into a sloth +of the mind and body when Gortre had arrived from the North with his +message of Hope. + +The renewed opportunity of action, the tonic to his weak and waning +faith--that faith which alone was able to keep him clean and +worthy--again strung up the chords of his manhood till they vibrated in +harmony. + +Once more Spence was in the Holy City. + +But a short time ago he was at Jerusalem as the collective eye of +millions of Englishmen, the telegraph wires stretched out behind him to +London. + +Now he was, to all official intents, a private person, yet, as the +steamer cast anchor in the roadstead of Jaffa, he had realised that a +more tremendous responsibility than ever before rested with him. + +The last words spoken to Spence in England had been those of Sir Michael +Manichoe. The great man was bidding him good-bye at Charing Cross. + +"Remember," he had said, "that whatever proof or help we may get from +this woman, Gertrude Hunt, will be but the basis for you to work on in +the East. We shall cable every result of our investigations here. +Remember that, as we think, you have immense ability and resource +against you. Go very warily. As I have said before, _no_ sum is too +great to sacrifice, no sacrifice too great to make." + +There had been a day's delay at Jaffa. It had been a day of strange, +bewildering thoughts to the journalist. + +The "Gate of the Holy Land" is not, as many people suppose, a fine +harbour, a thronged port. + +The navies of the ancient world which congregated there were smaller +than even the coasting steamers of to-day. They found shelter in a +narrow space of more or less untroubled water between the shelving rock +of the long, flat shore and a low reef rising out of the sea parallel to +the town. The vessels with timber for Solomon's Temple tossed almost +unsheltered before the terraces of ochre-coloured Oriental houses. + +For several hours it had been too rough for the passengers on the French +boat to land. More than a mile of restless bottle-green sea separated +them from the rude ladders fastened to the wave-washed quay. + +There had been one of the heavy rain-storms which at that season of the +year visit Palestine. Over the Moslem minarets of the town the purple +tops of the central mountains of Judah and Ephraim showed clear and far +away. + +The time of waiting gave Spence an opportunity for collecting and +ordering his thoughts, for summing up the situation and trying to get at +the very heart of its meaning. + +The messagery steamer was the only one in the roads. Two coasting craft +with rags of light brown sails were beating over the swell into the +Mediterranean. + +The sky was cloudy, the air still and warm. Only the sea was turbulent +and uneasy, the steamer rolled with a sickening, regular movement, and +the anchor chains beat and rattled with the precision of a pendulum. + +Spence sat on the india-rubber treads of the steps leading up to the +bridge, with an arm crooked round a white-painted stanchion supporting +the hand-rail. A few yards away two lascars were working a chain and +pulley, drawing up zinc boxes of ashes from the stoke-hold and tipping +them into the sea. As the clinkers fell into the water a little cloud of +steam rose from them. + +There were but few passengers on the ship, which wore a somewhat +neglected, "off-duty" aspect. No longer were the cabins filled with +drilled bands of tourists with their loud-voiced lecturing cleric in +charge. Not now was there the accustomed rush to the main deck, the +pious ejaculations at the first sight of Palestine, the electric +knocking at the hearts even of the least devout. + +Nobody came to Jerusalem now from England. From Beyrout to Jaffa the +maritime plain was silent and deserted, and no tourists plucked the +roses of Sharon any more. + +A German commercial traveller, with cases of cutlery, from Essen, was +arguing with the little Greek steward about his wine bill; a +professional photographer from Alexandria, travelling with his cameras +for a New York firm of art publishers; two Turkish officers smoking +cigarettes; a Russian gentleman with two young sons; a fat man in +flannels and with an unshaven chin, very much at home; an orange buyer +from a warehouse by the Tower Bridge--these were the undistinguished +companions of the journalist. + +The steward clapped his hands; _déjeuner_ was ready. The passengers +tumbled down to the saloon. Spence declined the loud-voiced Cockney +invitation of the fruit merchant and remained where he was, gazing with +unseeing eyes at the low Eastern town, which rose and fell before him as +the ship rolled lazily from side to side. + +There was something immensely, tremendously incongruous in his position. +It was without precedent. He had come, in the first place, as a sort of +private inquiry agent. He was a detective charged by a group of three or +four people, a clergyman or two, a wealthy Member of Parliament, to find +out the year-old movements--if, indeed, movements there had been!--of a +distinguished European professor. He was to pry, to question, to +deceive. This much in itself was utterly astonishing, strangely +difficult of realisation. + +But how much more there was to stir and confuse his brain! + +He was coming back alone to Jerusalem. But a short time ago he had seen +the great _savants_ of Europe--only thirty miles beyond this Eastern +town--reluctantly pronounce the words which meant the downfall of the +Christian Faith. + +The gunboat which had brought them all was anchored in this very spot. A +Turkish guard had been waiting yonder on the quay, they had gone along +the new road to Jerusalem in open carriages,--through the orange +groves,--riding to make history. + +And now he was here once more. + +While he sat on this dingy steamer in this remote corner of the +Mediterranean, it was no exaggeration to say that the whole world was in +a state of cataclysm such as it had hardly, at least not often, known +before. + +It was his business to watch events, to forecast whither they would +lead. He was a Simon Magus of the modern world, with an electric wire +and stylographic pen to prophesy with. He of all men could see and +realise what was happening all over the globe. He was more alarmed than +even the man in the street. This much was certain. + +And a day's easy ride away lay the little town which held the acre of +rocky ground from which all these horrors, this imminent upheaval, had +come. + +Again it seemed beyond the power of his brain to seize it all, to +contain the vastness of his thoughts. + +These facts, which all the world knew, were almost too stupendous for +belief. But when he dwelt upon the _personal_ aspect of them he was as a +traveller whose way is irrevocably barred by sheer precipice. + +At the very first _he_ had been one mouthpiece of the news. For some +hours the packet containing it had hung in the dressing-room of a London +Turkish bath. + +His act had recoiled upon himself, for when Gortre found him in the +chambers he was spiritually dying. + +Could this suspicion of Schuabe and Llwellyn possibly be true? It had +seemed both plausible and probable in Sir Michael's study in London. But +out here in the Jaffa roadstead, when he realised--or tried to +realise--that on him might depend the salvation of the world.... He +laughed aloud at that monstrous grandiloquent phrase. He was in the +nineteenth century, not the tenth. + +He doubted more and more. Had it been any one else it might have been +possible to believe. But he could not see himself in this stupendous +_rôle_. + +The mental processes became insupportable; he dismissed thought with a +great effort of will and got up from his seat. + +At least there was some _action_, something definite to do waiting for +him. Speculation only blurred everything. He would be true to the trust +his friends in England reposed in him and leave the rest to happen as it +was fated. + +There was a relief in that attitude--the Arab attitude. _Kismet!_ + +Griggs, the fruit merchant, came up from the saloon wiping his lips. + +"Bit orf," he said, "waiting like this. But the sea will go down soon. +Last spring I had to go on to Beyrout, the weather was that rough. Ever +tried that Vin de Rishon le Zion? It's a treat. Made from Bordeaux vines +transplanted to Palestine--you'll pass the fields on the way up--just +had a half bottle. Hallo!--look, there's the boat at last--old Francis +Karane's boat. Must go and look after my traps." + +A long boat was creeping out from behind the reef. Spence went to his +cabin to see after his light kit. It was better to move and work than to +think. + + * * * * * + +It was early morning, the morning after Spence's arrival in Jerusalem. +He slept well and soundly in his hotel room, tired by the long ride--for +he had come on horseback over the moonlit slopes of Ajalon. + +When at length he awoke it was with a sensation of mental and bodily +vigour, a quickening of all his pulses in hope and expectation, which +was in fine contrast to the doubts and hesitations of the Jaffa roads. + +A bright sun poured into the room. + +He got up and went to the window. There was a deep, unspoken prayer in +his heart. + +The hotel was in Akra, the European and Christian quarter of Jerusalem, +close by the Jaffa Gate, with the Tower of Hippicus frowning down upon +it. + +The whole extent of the city lay beneath the windows in a glorious +panorama, washed as it was in the brilliant morning light. Far beyond, a +dark shadow yet, the Olivet range rose in background to the minarets and +cupolas below it. + +His eye roved over the prospect, marking and recognising the buildings. + +There was the purple dome of the great Mosque of Omar, very clear +against the amber-primrose lights of dawn. + +Where now the muezzin called to Allah, the burnt-offerings had once +smoked in the courts of the Temple--it was in that spot the mysterious +veil had parted in symbol of God's pain and death. It was in the porches +bounding the court of the Gentiles that Christ had taught. + +Closer, below the Antonia Tower, rose the dark, lead-covered cupola of +the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. + +Great emotion came to him as he gazed at the shrine sacred above all +others for so many centuries. + +He thought of that holy spot diminished in its ancient glory in the eyes +of half the Christian world. + +Perhaps no more would the Holy Fire burst forth from the yellow, aged +marble of the Tomb at Easter time. + +Who could say? + +Was not he, Harold Spence, there to try that awful issue? + +He wondered, as he gazed, if another Easter would still see the wild +messengers bursting away to Nazareth and Bethlehem bearing The Holy +Flame. + +The sun became suddenly more powerful. It threw a warmer light into the +grey dome, and, deep down, the cold, dark waters of Hezekiah's Pool +became bright and golden. + +The sacred places focussed the light and sprang into a new life. + +He made the sign of the Cross, wondering fancifully if this were an +omen. + +Then with a shudder he looked to the left towards the ogre-grey Turkish +battlements of the Damascus Gate. + +It was there, over by the Temple Quarries of Bezetha, the New Tomb of +Joseph lay. + +Yes! straight away to the north lay the rock-hewn sepulchre where the +great doctors had sorrowfully pronounced the end of so many Christian +hopes. + +How difficult to believe that so short a distance away lay the centre of +the world's trouble! Surely he could actually distinguish the +guard-house in the wall which had been built round the spot. + +Over the sad Oriental city--for Jerusalem is always sad, as if the +ancient stones were still conscious of Christ's passion--he gazed +towards the terrible place, wondering, hoping, fearing. + + * * * * * + +It was very difficult to know how to begin upon this extraordinary +affair. + +When he had made the first meal of the day and was confronted with the +business, with the actual fact of what he had to do, he was aghast at +what seemed his own powerlessness. + +He had no plan of action, no method. For an hour he felt absolutely +hopeless. + +Sir Robert Llwellyn, so his friends believed, had been in Jerusalem +prior to the discovery of the New Tomb. + +The first duty of the investigator was to find out whether that was +true. + +How was he to do it? + +In his irresolution he decided to go out into the city. He would call +upon various people he knew, friends of Cyril Hands, and trust to events +for guiding his further movements. + +The rooms where Hands had always stayed were close to the schools of the +Church Missionary Society; he would go there. Down in the Mûristan area +he could also chat with the doctor at the English Ophthalmic Hospice; he +would call on his way to the New Tomb. + +It was at The Tomb that he might learn something, perhaps, yet how +nebulous it all was, how unsatisfying! + +He set out, down the roughly paved streets, through the arched and +shaded bazaars--places less full of colour and more sombre than the +markets of other Oriental cities--to the heart of the city, where the +streets were bounded by the vision of the distant hills of Olivet. + +The religious riots and unrest were long since over. The pilgrims to the +Church of the Holy Sepulchre were less in number, but were mostly +Russians of the Greek Church, who still accepted the Church of the Holy +Sepulchre as the true goal of their desires. + +The Greeks and Armenians hated each other no more than usual. The Turks +were held in good control by a strong governor of Jerusalem. Nor was +this a time of special festival. The city, never quite at rest, was +still in its normal condition. + +The Bedouin women with their unveiled faces, tattooed in blue, strode to +the bazaars with the butter they had brought in from their desert herds. +They wore gaudy head-dresses and high red boots, and they jostled the +"pale townsmen" as they passed them; free, untamed creatures of the sun +and air. + +As Spence passed by the courtyard of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre a +crowd of Fellah boys ran up to him with candles ornamented with scenes +from the Passion, pressing him to buy. + +The sun grew hotter as he walked, though the purple shadows of the +narrow streets were cool enough. As he left the European heights of Akra +and dived deep into the eastern central city, the well-remembered scenes +and smells rose up like a wall before him and the rest of life. + +He began to walk more slowly, in harmony with the slow-moving forms +around. He had been to Omdurman with the avenging army, knew +Constantinople during the Greek war--the East had meaning for him. + +And as the veritable East closed round him his doubts and self-ridicule +vanished. His strange mission seemed possible here. + +As he was passing one of the vast ruined structures once belonging to +the mediæval knights of St. John, thinking, indeed, that he himself was +a veritable Crusader, a thin, importunate voice came to him from an +angle of the stone-work. + +He looked down and saw an old Nurié woman sitting there. She belonged to +the "Nowar," the unclean pariah class of Palestine, who are said to +practise magic arts. A gipsy of the Sussex Downs would be her sister in +England. + +The woman was tattooed from head to foot. She wore a blue turban, and +from squares and angles drawn in the dust before her, Spence knew her +for a professional geomancer or fortune-teller. + +He threw her a coin in idle speculation and asked her "his lot" for the +immediate future. + +The woman had a few shells of different shapes in a heap by her side, +and she threw them into the figures on the ground. + +Then, picking them up, she said, in bastard Arabic interspersed with a +hard "K"-like sound, which marks the nomad in Palestine, "Effendi, you +have a sorrow and bewilderment just past you, and, like a black star, it +has fixed itself on your forehead. A letter is coming to you from over +the seas telling you of work to do. And then you will leave this country +and cross home in a steamer, with a story to tell many people." + +Spence smiled at the glib prophecy. Certainly it might very well outline +his future course of action, but it was no more than a shrewd and +obvious guess. + +He was turning to go away when the woman opened her clothes in front, +showing the upper part of her body literally covered with tattoo marks, +and drew out a small bag. + +"Stay, my lord," she said. "I can tell you much more if you will hear. I +have here a very precious stone rubbed with oil, which I brought from +Mecca. Now, if you will hold this stone in your hand and give me the +price you shall hear what will come to you, O camel of the house!" + +The curious sensation of "expectation" that had been coming over Spence, +the fatalistic waiting for chance to guide him which, in this wild and +dream-like business, had begun to take hold of him, made him give the +hag what she asked. + +There was something in clairvoyance perhaps; at any rate he would hear +what the Nurié woman had to say. + +She took a dark and greasy pebble from the bag and put it in his hand, +gazing at his fingers for a minute or two in a fixed stare without +speaking. + +When at last she broke the silence Spence noticed that something had +gone out of her voice. The medicant whine, the ingratiating invitation +had ceased. + +Her tones were impersonal, thinner, a _recitative_. + +"Ere sundown my lord will hear that a friend has died and his spirit is +in the well of souls." + +"Tell me of this friend, O my aunt!" Spence said in colloquial Arabic. + +"Thy friend is a Frank, but more than a Frank, for he is one knowing +much of this country, and has walked the stones of Jerusalem for many +years. Thou wilt hear of his death from the lips of one who will tell +thee of another thou seekest, and know not that it is he.... Give me +back the stone, lord, and go thy way," she broke off suddenly, with +seeming sincerity. "I will tell thee no more, for great business is in +thy hands and thou art no ordinary wayfarer. Why didst thou hide it from +me, Effendi?" + +Drawing her blue head-dress over her face, the woman refused to speak +another word. + +Spence passed on, wondering. He knew, as all travellers who are not +merely tourists know, that no one has ever been quite able to sift the +fraud and trickery from the strange power possessed by those Eastern +geomancers. It is an undecided question still, but only the shallow dare +to say that _all_ is imposture.[2] + +And even the London journalist could not be purely materialistic in +Jerusalem, the City of Sorrows. + +He went on towards his destination. Not far from the missionary +establishment was a building which was the headquarters of the Palestine +Exploring Society in Jerusalem. + +Cyril Hands had always lived up in Akra among the Europeans, but much of +his time was necessarily spent in the Mûristan district. + +The building was known as the "Research Museum." + +Hands and his assistants had gathered a valuable collection of ancient +curiosities. + +Here were hundreds of drawings and photographs of various excavations. +Accurate measurements of tombs, buried houses, ancient churches were +entered in great books. + +In glass cases were fragments of ancient pottery, old Hebrew seals, +scarabs, antique fragments of jewellery--all the varied objects from +which high scholarship and expert training was gradually, year by year, +providing a luminous and entirely fresh commentary on Holy Writ. + +Here, in short, were the tools of what is known as the "Higher +Criticism." + +Attached to the museum was a library and drawing office, a photographic +dark room, apartments for the curator and his wife. A man who engaged +the native labour required for the excavations superintended the work of +the men and acted as general agent and intermediary between the European +officials and all Easterns with whom they came in contact. + +This man was well known in the city--a character in his way. In the +reports of the Exploring Society he was often referred to as an +invaluable assistant. But a year ago his portrait had been published in +the annual statement of the fund, and the face of the Greek Ionides in +his turban lay upon the study tables of many a quiet English vicarage. + +Spence entered the courtyard of the building. It was quiet and deserted; +some pigeons were feeding there. + +He turned under a stone archway to the right, pushed open a door, and +entered the museum. + +There was a babel of voices. + +A small group of people stood by a wooden pedestal in the centre of the +room, which supported the famous cruciform font found at Bîâr Es-seb'a. + +They turned at Spence's entrance. He saw some familiar faces of people +with whom he had been brought in contact during the time of the first +discovery. + +Two English missionaries, one in orders, the English Consul, and +Professor Theodore Adams, the American archæologist, who lived all the +year round in the new western suburb, stood speaking in grave tones and +with distressed faces--so it seemed to the intruder. + +An Egyptian servant, dressed in white linen, carrying a bunch of keys, +was with them. + +In his hand the Consul held a roll of yellow native wax. + +An enormous surprise shone out on the faces of these people as Spence +walked up to him. + +"Mr. Spence!" said the Consul, "we never expected you or heard of your +coming. This is most fortunate, however. You were his great friend. I +think you both shared chambers together in London?" + +Spence looked at him in wonder, mechanically shaking the proffered hand. + +"I don't think I quite understand," he said. "I came here quite by +chance, just to see if there was any one that I knew about." + +"Then you have not heard--" said the clergyman. + +"I have heard nothing." + +"Your friend, our distinguished fellow-worker, Professor Hands, is no +more. We have just received a cable. Poor, dear Hands died of heart +disease while taking a seaside holiday." + +Spence was genuinely affected. + +Hands was an old and dear friend. His sweet, kindly nature, too dreamy +and retiring perhaps for the rush and hurry of Occidental life, had +always been wonderfully welcome for a month or two each year in +Lincoln's Inn. His quaint, learned letters, his enthusiasm for his work +had become part of the journalist's life. They were recurring pleasures. +And now he was gone! + +Now it was all over. Never more would he hear the quiet voice, hear the +water-pipe bubble in the quiet old inn as night gave way to dawn.... + +His brain whirled with the sudden shock. He grew very pale, waiting to +hear more. + +"We know little more," said the Consul, with a sigh. "A cable from the +central office of the Society has just stated the fact and asked me to +take official charge of everything here. We were just about to begin +sealing up the rooms when you came. There are many important documents +which must be seen to. Mr. Forbes, poor Hands's assistant, is away on +the shores of the Dead Sea, but we have sent for him by the camel +garrison post. But it will be some weeks before he can be here, +probably." + +"This is terribly sad news for me," said Spence at length. "We were, of +course, the dearest friends. The months when Hands was in town were +always the pleasantest. Of course, lately we did not see so much of each +other; he had become a public character. He was becoming very depressed +and unwell, terrified, I almost think, at what was going on in the world +owing to the discovery he had made, and he was going away to +recuperate. But I knew nothing of this!" + +"I am sorry," said the Consul, "to have to tell you of such a sad +business, but we naturally thought that somehow you knew--though, of +course, in point of time that would hardly be possible, or only just +so." + +"I am in the East," said Spence, giving an explanation that he had +previously prepared if it became necessary to account for his +presence--"I am here on a mission for my newspaper--to ascertain various +points about public opinion in view of all these imminent international +complications." + +"Quite so, quite so," said the Consul. "I shall be glad to help you in +any way I can, of course. But when you came in we were wondering what we +should do exactly about poor Hands's private effects, papers, and so on. +When he went on leave all his things were packed in cases and sent down +here from his rooms in the upper city. I suppose they had better be +shipped to England. Perhaps you would take charge of them on your +return?" + +"I expect you will hear from his brother, the Rev. John Hands, a +Leicestershire clergyman, when the mail comes in," said Spence. "This is +a great blow to me. I should like to pay my poor friend some public +tribute. I should like to write something for English people to read--a +sketch of his life and work here in Jerusalem--his daily work among you +all." + +His voice faltered. His eyes had fallen on a photograph which hung upon +the wall. A group of Arabs sat at the mouth of a rock tomb. In front of +them, wearing a sun helmet and holding a ten-foot surveyor's wand, stood +the dead professor. A kindly smile was on his face as he looked down +upon the white figures of his men. + +"It would be a gracious tribute," said one of the missionaries. "Every +one loved him, whatever their race or creed. We can all tell you of him +as we saw him in our midst. It is a great pity that old Ionides has +gone. He was the confidential sharer of all the work here, and Hands +trusted him implicitly. He could have told you much." + +"I remember Ionides well," said Spence. "At the time of the discovery, +of course, he was very much in evidence, and he was examined by the +committee. Is the old fellow dead, then?" + +"No," answered the missionary. "Some time ago, just after the Commission +left, in fact, he came into a considerable sum of money. He was getting +on in years, and he resigned his position here. He has taken an olive +farm somewhere by Nabulûs, a Turkish city by Mount Gerizim. I fear we +shall never see him more. He would grieve at this news." + +"I think," said Spence, "I will go back to my hotel. I should like to be +alone to-day. I will call on you this evening, if I may," he added, +turning to the Consul. + +He left the melancholy group, once more beginning their sad business, +and went out again into the narrow street. + +He wanted to be alone, in some quiet place, to pay his departed friend +the last rites of quiet thought and memory. He would say a prayer for +him in the cool darkness of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. + +How did it go? + + "_So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this + mortal shall have put on immortality; Then shall be brought to pass + the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. O + death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?_" + +Always all his life long he had thought that these were perhaps the most +beautiful of written words. + +He turned to the right, passed the Turkish guard at the entrance, and +went down the narrow steps to the "Calvary" chapel. + +The gloom and glory of the great church, its rich and sombre light, the +cool yet heavy air, saddened his soul. He knelt in humble prayer. + +When he came out once more into the brilliant sunlight and the noises of +the city he felt braver and more confident. + +He began to turn his thoughts earnestly and resolutely to his mission. + +Swiftly, with a quick shock of memory, he remembered his talk with the +old fortune-teller. It was with an unpleasant sense of chill and shock +that he remembered her predictions. + +Some strange sense of divination had told her of this sad news that +waited for him. He could not explain or understand it. But there was +more than this. It might be wild and foolish, but he could not thrust +the woman's words from his brain. + +She knew he was in quest of some one. She said he would be told.... + +He entered the yellow stone portico of the hotel with a sigh of relief. +The hall was large, flagged, and cool. A pool of clear water was in the +centre, glimmering green over its tiles. The eye rested on it with +pleasure. Spence sank into a deck-chair and clapped his hands. He was +exhausted, tired, and thirsty. + +An Arab boy came in answer to his hand-clapping. He brought an envelope +on a tray. + +It was a cable from England. + +Spence went up-stairs to his bedroom. From his kit-bag he drew a small +volume, bound in thick leather, with a locked clasp. + +It was Sir Michael Manichoe's private cable code--a precious volume +which great commercial houses all over the world would have paid great +sums to see, which the great man in his anxiety and trust had confided +to his emissary. + +Slowly and laboriously he de-coded the message, a collection of letters +and figures to be momentous in the history of Christendom. + +These were the words: + + "_The woman has discovered everything from Llwellyn. All suspicions + confirmed. Conspiracy between Llwellyn and Schuabe. You will find + full confirmation from the Greek foreman of Society explorations, + Ionides. Get statement of truth by any means, coercion or money to + any amount. All is legitimate. Having obtained, hasten home, + special steamer if quicker. Can do nothing certain without your + evidence. We trust in you. Hasten._ + + "MANICHOE." + +He trembled with excitement as he relocked the code. + +It was a light in a dark place. Ionides! the trusted for many years! The +eager helper! The traitor bought by Llwellyn! + +It was afternoon now. He must go out again. A caravan, camels, guides, +must be found for a start to-morrow. + +It would not be a very difficult journey, but it must be made with +speed, and it was four days, five days away. + +He passed out of the hotel and by the Tower of Hippicus. + +A new drinking fountain had been erected there, a domed building, with +pillars of red stone and a glittering roof, surmounted by a golden +crescent. + +Some camel drivers were drinking there. He was passing by when a tall, +white-robed figure bowed low before him. A voice, speaking French, bade +him good-day. + +The face of the man seemed familiar. He asked him his name and business. + +It was Ibrahim, the Egyptian servant he had seen at the museum in the +morning. + +The rooms had been sealed up, and the man had been to the Consul's +private house with the keys. + +This man had temporarily succeeded the Greek Ionides. + +Spence turned back to the hotel and bade Ibrahim follow him. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +UNDER THE EASTERN STARS: TOWARDS GERIZIM + + +The night was cold and still, the starlight brilliant in the huge hollow +sapphire of the sky. + +Wrapped in a heavy cloak, Spence sat at the door of one of the two +little tents which composed his caravan. + +Ibrahim the Egyptian, a Roman Catholic, as it seemed, had volunteered to +act as dragoman. In a few hours this man had got together the necessary +animals and equipment for the expedition to Nabulûs. + +Spence rode a little grey horse of the wiry Moabite breed, Ibrahim a +Damascus bay. The other men, a cook and two muleteers, all Syrians of +the Greek Church, rode mules. + +The day's march had been long and tiring. Night, with its ineffable +peace and rest, was very welcome. + +On the evening of the morrow they would be on the slopes of Ebal and +Gerizim, near to the homestead of the man they sought. + +All the long day Spence had asked himself what would be the outcome of +this wild journey. He was full of a grim determination to wring the +truth from the renegade. In his hip pocket his revolver pressed against +his thigh. He was strung up for action. Whatever course presented +itself, that he would take, regardless of any law that there might be +even in these far-away districts. + +His passport was specially endorsed by the Foreign Office; he bore a +letter, obtained by the Consul, from the Governor of Jerusalem to the +Turkish officer in command of Nabulûs. + +He had little doubt of the ultimate result. Money or force should obtain +a full confession, and then, a swift rush for London with the charter of +salvation--for it would be little less than that--and the engine of +destruction for the two terrible criminals at home. + +As they marched over the plains the red anemone and blue iris had peeped +from the herbage. The ibex, the roebuck, the wild boar, had fled from +the advancing caravan. + +Eagles and vultures had moved heavily through the sky at vast heights. +Quails, partridges, and plovers started from beneath the horses' feet. + +As the sun plunged away, the owls had begun to mourn in the olive +groves, the restless chirping of the grasshoppers began to die away, and +as the stars grew bright, the nightingale--the lonely song-bird of these +solitudes--poured out his melody to the night. + +The camp had been formed under the shade of a clump of terebinth and +acacias close to a spring of clear water which made the grass around it +a vivid green, in pleasant contrast to the dry, withered herbage in the +open. + +The men had dug out tree roots for fuel, and a red fire glowed a few +yards away from Spence's tent. + +A group of silent figures sat round the fire. Now and then a low murmur +of talk sounded for a minute and then died away again. A slight breeze, +cool and keen, rustled in the trees overhead. Save for that, and the +occasional movement of one of the hobbled horses, no sound broke the +stillness of the glorious night. + +It was here, so Spence thought, that the Lord must have walked with His +disciples on the journey between Jerusalem and Nazareth. + +On such a night as this the little group may have sat in the vale of El +Makhna in quiet talk at supper-time. + +The same stars looked down on him as they did on those others two +thousand years ago. How real and true it all seemed here! How much +_easier_ it was to realise and believe than in Chancery Lane! + +Why did men live in cities? + +Was it not better far for the soul's health to be here alone with God? + +Here, and in such places as these, God spoke clear and loud to the +hearts of men. He shuddered as the thought of his own lack of faith came +back to him. + +In rapid review he saw the recent time of his hopelessness and shame. +How utterly he had fallen to pieces! It was difficult to understand the +pit into which he was falling so easily when Basil had come to him. + +Now, the love of God ran in his veins like fire, every sight and sound +spoke to him of the Christus Consolator. + +It was more than mere cold belief, a _love_ or personal devotion to +Christ welled up in him. The figure of the Man of Sorrows was very near +him--there was a great fiery cross of stars in the sky above him. + +He entered the little tent to pray. He prayed humbly that it might be +even thus until the end. He prayed that this new and sweet communion +with his Master might never fade or lessen till the glorious daylight of +Death dawned and this sojourning far from home was over. + +And, in the name of all the unknown millions whom he was come to this +far land to aid, he prayed for success, for the Truth to be made +manifest, and for a happy issue out of all these afflictions. + +"And this we beg for Jesus Christ, _His_ sake." + +Then much refreshed and comforted he emerged once more into the serene +beauty of the night. + +He lit his pipe and sat there, quietly smoking. Presently Ibrahim the +Egyptian began to croon a low song, one of the Egyptian songs that +soldiers sing round the camp-fires. + +The man had done his term of compulsory service in the past, and perhaps +this sudden transition from the comfortable quarters in Jerusalem to the +old life of camp-fire and _plein air_ had its way with him and opened +the springs of memory. + +This is part of what he sang in a thin, sad voice: + + _Born in Galiub, since my birth, many times have I seen the + Nile's waters overflow our fields. + And I had a neighbour, Sheikh Abdehei, whose daughter's face was + known only to me: + Nothing could be compared to the beauty and tenderness of Fatmé. + Her eyes were as big as coffee cups, and her body was firm with the + vigour of youth. + We had one heart, and were free from jealousies, ready to be + united. + But Allah curse the military inspector who bound my two hands, + For, together with many more, we were marched off to the camp. + I was poor and had to serve, nothing could soften the inspector's + heart. + The drums and the trumpets daily soon made me forget my cottage and + the well-wheel on the Nile._ + +The long-drawn-out notes vibrated mournfully in the night air. + +Sadly the singer put his hand to one side of his head, bending as if he +were wailing. + +The quaint, imaginative song-story throbbed through many phases and +incidents, and every now and again the motionless figures round the red +embers wailed in sympathy. + +At last came the end, a happy climax, no less loved by these simple +children of the desert than by the European novel reader. + + _ ... So that I was in the hospital and had become most seriously + ill. + But swifter than the gazelle, the light of my life came near the + hospital. + And called in at the window, "Ibrahim! my eye! my heart!" + And full of joy I carried her about the camp, and presented her to + all my superiors, leaving out none, from the colonel down to the + sergeant. + I received my dismissal, to return to Galiub and to marry. + Old Abdehei was awaiting us, to bless us. God be praised!_ + +So sang Ibrahim, the converted Christian, the Moslem songs of his youth; +for here, in El Makhna, the plain of Shechem, there were no missionaries +with their cold reproof and little hymns in simple couplets. + +The fire died away, and they slept until dawn flooded the plain. + +When, on the next day, the sun was waning, though still high in the +western heavens, the travellers came within view of the ancient city of +Nabulûs. + +There was a great tumult of excitement in Spence's pulses as he saw the +city, radiant in the long afternoon lights, and far away. + +Here, in the confines of this distant glittering town, lay the last link +in the terrible secret which he was to solve. + +On either side the purple slopes of the mountains made a mighty frame to +the terraced houses below. Ebal and Gerizim kept solemn watch and ward +over the city. + +The sun was just sinking as they rode into the suburbs. It was a lovely, +placid evening. + +The abundant cascades of water, which flow from great fissures in the +mountain and make this Turkish town the jewel of the East, glittered in +the light. + +Below them the broad, still reservoirs lay like plates of gold. + +They rode through luxuriant groves of olives, figs, and vines, +wonderfully grateful and refreshing to the eye after the burnt brown +herbage of the plain, towards the regular camping-ground where all +travellers lay. + +In the cool of the evening Spence and Ibrahim rode through the teeming +streets to the Governor's house. + +It was a city of fanatics, so the Englishman had heard, and during the +great Moslem festivals the members of the various, and rather extensive, +missionary establishments were in constant danger. But as the two men +rode among the wild armed men who sat in the bazaars or pushed along the +narrow streets they were not in any way molested. + +After a ceremonious introduction and the delivery of the letter from the +Governor of Jerusalem, Spence made known his business over the coffee +and cigarettes which were brought immediately on his arrival. + +The Governor was a placid, pleasant-mannered man, very ready to give his +visitor any help he could. + +It was represented to him that the man Ionides, who had but lately +settled in the suburbs, was in the possession of some important secrets +affecting the welfare of many wealthy residents in Jerusalem. These, it +was hinted, were of a private nature, but in all probability great +pressure would have to be put upon the Greek in order to receive any +satisfactory confession. + +The conversation, which was carried on in French, ended in an eminently +satisfactory way. + +"Monsieur will understand," said the Governor, "that I make no inquiry +into the nature of the information monsieur wishes to obtain. I may or +may not have my ideas upon that subject. The Greek was, I understand, +intimately connected with the recent discoveries in Jerusalem. Let that +pass. It is none of my business. Here I am a good Moslem, Allah be +praised! it is a necessity of my official position." + +He laughed cynically, clapped his hands for a new brass vessel of +creaming coffee and continued: + +"A political necessity, Monsieur, as a man of the world, will quite +understand me. I have been in London, at the Embassy, and I myself am +free from foolish prejudices. I am not Moslem in heart nor am I +Christian--some coffee, Monsieur?--yes! Monsieur also is a man of the +world!" + +Spence, sitting cross-legged opposite his host, had smiled an answering +cynical smile at these words. He shrugged his shoulders and threw out +his hands. Everything depended upon making a good impression upon this +local autocrat. + +"Eh bien, monsieur avait raison-même--that, I repeat, is not my affair. +But this letter from my brother of Jerusalem makes me of anxiety to +serve your interests. And, moreover, the man is a Greek, of no great +importance--we are not fond of the Greeks, we Turks! Now it is most +probable that the man will not speak without persuasion. Moreover, that +persuasion were better officially applied. To assist monsieur, I shall +send Tewfik Pasha, my nephew, and captain commandant of the northern +fort, with half a dozen men. If this dog will not talk they will know +how to make him. I suppose you have no scruples as to any means they may +employ? There are foolish prejudices among the Western people." + +Spence took his decision very quickly. He was a man who had been on many +battle-fields, knew the grimness of life in many lands. If torture were +necessary, then it must be so. The man deserved it, the end was great if +the means were evil. It must be remembered that Spence was a man to +whom the very loftiest and highest Christian ideals had not yet been +made manifest. There are degrees in the struggle for saintliness; the +journalist was but a postulant. + +He saw these questions of conduct roughly, crudely. His conscience +animated his deeds, but it was a conscience as yet ungrown. And indeed +there are many instruments in an orchestra, all tuneful perhaps to the +conductor's beat, which they obey and understand, yet not all of equal +eminence or beauty in the great scheme of the concert. + +The violin soars into great mysteries of emotion, calling high "in the +deep-domed empyrean." The flutes whisper a chorus to the great story of +their comrade. Yet, though the plangent sounding of the kettle-drums, +the single beat of the barbaric cymbals are in one note and unfrequent, +yet these minor messages go to swell the great tone-symphony and make it +perfect in the serene beauty of something _directed and ordained_. + +"Sir," said the journalist, "the man must be made to speak. The methods +are indifferent to me." + +"Oh, that can be done; we have a way," said the Governor. + +He shifted a little among his cushions. A certain dryness came into his +voice as he resumed: + +"Monsieur, however, as a man of the world, will understand, no doubt, +that when a private individual finds it necessary to invoke the powers +of law it is a vast undertaking to move so ponderous a machine?... also +it is a privilege? It is not, of course, a personal matter--_ça m'est +égal_. But there are certain unavoidable and indeed quite necessary +expenses which must be satisfied." + +Spence well understood the polite humbug of all this. He knew that in +the East one buys justice--or injustice--as one can afford it. As the +correspondent of that great paper over which Ommaney presided, he had +always been able to spend money like water when it had been necessary. +He had those powers now. There was nothing unusual to him in the +situation, nor did he hesitate. + +"Your Excellency," he said, "speaks with great truth upon these points. +It is ever from a man of your Excellency's penetration that one hears +those dicta which govern affairs. I have a certain object in view, and I +realise that to obtain it there are certain necessary formalities to be +gone through. I have with me letters of credit upon the bank of Lelain +Delaunay et Cie., of Jaffa, Jerusalem, and Athens." + +"A sound, estimable house," said the Governor, with a very pleased +smile. + +"It but then remains," said Spence, "to confer with the secretary of +your Excellency as to the sum which is necessary to pay for the legal +expenses of the inquiry." + +"You speak most sensibly," said the Turk. "In the morning I will send +the captain commandant and the soldiers to the encampment. My secretary +shall accompany them. Then, Monsieur, when the little preliminaries are +arranged, you will be free to start for the farm of this dog Ionides. It +is not more than four miles from your camp, and my nephew will guide you +there. May Allah prosper your undertaking." + +"--And have you in His care," replied Spence. "I will now have the +honour to wish your Excellency undisturbed rest." + +He rose and bowed. The Turkish gentleman rose also and shook hands in +genial European fashion. + +"Monsieur," he said, with an expansive smile, "Monsieur is without doubt +a thorough man of the world." + +That night, in the suburbs of the city, sweet and fragrant as the olive +groves and fig trees were, cool and fresh as the night wind was, Spence +slept but little. + +He could hear the prowling dogs of the streets baying the Eastern moon, +the owls hooted in the trees, but it was not these distant sounds, all +mellowed by the distance, which drove rest and sleep away. It was the +imminent sense of the great issues of the morrow, a wild and fierce +excitement which forbade sleep or rest and filled his veins with fire. + +He could not quite realise what awful things hung upon the event of the +coming day. He knew that his brain could not contain the whole terror +and vastness of the thought. + +Indeed, he felt that _no_ brain could adequately realise the importance +of it all. + +Yet even that partial realisation of which he was capable was enough to +drive all peace away, the live-long night, to leave him nothing but the +plangent, burning thought. + +He was very glad when the cool, hopeful dawn came. + +The nightmare of vigil was gone. Action was at hand. He prayed in the +morning air. + +Presently, from the city gates, he saw a little cavalcade drawing near, +twelve soldiers on wiry Damascene horses, an officer, with the +Governor's secretary riding by his side. + +Those preliminaries of a signed draft upon the bank, which cupidity and +the occasion demanded, were soon over. + +These twelve soldiers and their commandant cost him two hundred pounds +"English"; but that was nothing. + +If his own words were ineffective, then the cord and wedge must do the +rest. It had to be paid for. + +The world was waiting. + +On through the olive groves and the vines laden with purple. On, over +the little stone-bridged cascades and streams--sweet gifts of lordly +Ebal--round the eastern wall of the town, crumbling stone where the +mailed lizards were sleeping in the sun; on to the low roofs and vivid +trees where the Greek traitor had made his home! + +At length the red road opened before them on to a burnt plain which was +the edge and brim of the farm. + +It lay direct and patent to the view, the place of the great secret. + +Ionides was waiting for them, under a light verandah which ran round the +house, before they reached the building. + +He had seen them coming over the plain. + +A little elderly olive-skinned man, with restless eyes the colour of +sherry, bowed and bent before them with terrified inquiry in every +gesture. + +His gaze flickered over the arms and shabby uniforms of the soldiers +with hate and fear in it mingled with a piteous cringing. It was the +look which the sad Greek boatmen on the shores of the Bosphorus wear all +their lives. + +Then he saw Spence and recognised him as the Englishman who had been the +friend of Hands, and was at the meetings of the Conference. + +The sight of the journalist seemed to affect him like a sudden blow. The +fear and uneasiness he had shown at the first sight of the Turkish +soldiers were intensified a thousand-fold. + +The man seemed to shrink and collapse. His face became ashen grey, his +lips parched suddenly, for his tongue began to curl round them in order +to moisten their rigidity. + +With a great effort he forced himself to speak in English first, fluent +enough but elementary, and then in a rush of French, the language of all +Europe, and one with which the cosmopolitan Greek is ever at home. + +The captain gave an order. His men dismounted and tied up the horses. + +Then, taking the conduct of the affair into his own hands at once, he +spoke to Ionides with a snarling contempt and brutality that he would +hardly have used to a strolling street dog. + +"The English gentleman has come to ask you some questions, dog. See to +it that you give a true answer and speedy. For, if not, there are many +ways to make you. I have the warrant of his Excellency the Governor to +do as I please with you and yours." + +The Greek made an inarticulate noise. He raised one long-fingered, +delicate hand to his throat. + +Spence, as he watched, could not help a feeling of pity. The whole +attitude of the man was inexpressibly painful in its sheer terror. + +His face had become a white wedge of fear. + +The officer spoke again. + +"You will take the English pasha into a private room," he said sternly, +"where he will ask you all he wishes. I shall post two of my men at the +door. Take heed that they do not have to summon me. And meanwhile bring +out food and entertainment for me and my soldiers." + +He clapped his hands and the women of the house, who were peering round +the end of the verandah, ran to bring pilaff and tobacco. + +Spence, with two soldiers, closely following the swaying, tottering +figure of Ionides, went into a cool chamber opening on to the little +central courtyard round which the house was built. + +It was a bare room, with a low bench or ottoman here and there. + +But, on the walls, oddly incongruous in such a setting, were some framed +photographs. Hands, in a white linen suit and a wide Panama hat, was +there; there was a photograph of the museum at Jerusalem, and a picture +cut from an English illustrated paper of the Society's great excavations +at Tell Sandahannah. + +It was odd, Spence thought gravely, that the man cared to keep these +records of his life in Jerusalem, crowned as it was with such an act of +treachery. + +He sat down on the ottoman. The Greek stood before him, cowering against +the wall. + +It was a little difficult to know how he should begin; what was the best +method to ensure a full confession. + +He lit a cigarette to help his thoughts. + +"What did Sir Robert Llwellyn give you?--how much?" he said suddenly. + +Again the look of ashen fear came over the Greek's face. He struggled +with it before he spoke. + +"I am sorry that your meaning is not plain to me, sir. I do not know of +whom you speak." + +"I speak of him whom you served secretly. It was with your aid that the +'new' tomb was found. But before it was found you and Sir Robert +Llwellyn were at work there. I have come to obtain from you a detailed +confession of how the thing was done, who cut the inscription?--I must +know everything. If not, I tell you with perfect truth, your life is not +safe. The Governor has sent men with me and you will be made to speak." + +He spoke with a deep menace in his tone, and at the same time drew his +revolver from the hip pocket of his riding-breeches and held it on his +knee. + +He had begun to realise the awful nature of this man's deed more and +more poignantly in his presence. True, he was the tool of greater +intelligences, and his guilt was not so heavy as theirs. Nevertheless, +the Greek was no fool, he had something of an education, he had not done +this thing blindly. + +The man crouched against the wall, desperate and hopeless. + +One of the soldiers outside the door moved, and his sabre clanked. + +The sound was decisive. With a broken, husky voice Ionides began his +miserable confession. + +How simple it was! Wild astonishment at the ease with which the whole +thing had been done filled the journalist's brain. + +The tomb, already known to the Greek, the slow carving of the +inscription at dead of night by Llwellyn, the new coating of _hamra_ +sealing up the inner chamber. + +And yet, so skilfully had the forgeries been committed, chance had so +aided the forgers, and their secret had been so well preserved that the +whole world of experts was deceived. + +In the overpowering relief of the confession Spence was but little +interested in the details, but at length they were duly set down and +signed by the Greek in the presence of the officer. + +By midnight the journalist was far away on the road to Jerusalem. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE LAST MEETING + + +In Sir Robert Llwellyn's flat in Bond Street the electric bell suddenly +rang, a shrill tinkle in the silence. + +Schuabe, who sat by the window, looked up with a strained, white face. + +Avoiding his glance, Llwellyn rose and went out into the passage. The +latch of the door clicked, there was a murmur of voices, and Llwellyn +returned, following a third person. + +Schuabe gave a scarcely perceptible shudder as this man entered. + +The man was a thick-set person of medium height, clean shaven. He was +dressed in a frock-coat and carried a silk hat, neither new nor smart, +yet not seedy nor showing any evidences of poverty. The man's face was +one to inspire a sensitive or alert person with a sudden disgust and +terror for which a name can hardly be found. It was an utterly +abominable and black soul that looked out of the still rather bilious +eyes. + +The eyes were much older than the rest of the face. They were full of a +cold and deliberate cruelty and, worse even than this, such a hideous +_knowledge_ of unmentionable crime was there! The lips made one thin, +wicked curve which hardly varied in direction, for this man could not +smile. + +He belonged to a certain horrible gang who infest the West End of +London, bringing terror and ruin to all they meet. These people haunt +the bars and music halls of the "pleasure" part of London. + +It were better for a man that he had never been born--a thousand times +better--than that he should go among these men. Black shame and horrors +worse than death they bring with both hands to the bitter fools who +lightly meet them unknowing what they are. + +Constantine Schuabe, in the moment when he saw this man--knowing well +who and what he was--knew the bitterest moment of his life. + +Vast criminal that he was himself, mighty in his evil brain, ... he was +pure; certain infamies were not his.... He spat into his handkerchief +with an awful physical disgust. + +"This is my friend, Nunc Wallace," said Llwellyn, pale and trembling. + +The man looked keenly at his two hosts. Then he sat down in a chair. + +"Well, gentlemen," he said in correct English, but with a curious lack +of _timbre_, of life and feeling in his voice--he spoke as one might +think a corpse would speak--"I'm sorry to say that it's all off. It +simply can't be done at any price. Even I myself, 'King of the boys' as +they call me, confess myself beaten." + +Schuabe gave a sudden start, almost of relief it seemed. + +Llwellyn cleared his throat once or twice before he could speak. When +the words came at length there was a nauseous eagerness in them. + +"Why not, Wallace? Surely _you_ and your friends--it must be something +very hard that you can't manage." + +The words jostled each other in their rapid utterance. + +"Give me a drink, Sir Robert, and I'll tell you the reason," said the +man. + +Then, with an inexpressible assumption of confidence and an identity of +interests, which galled and stung the two wretched men till they could +hardly bear the torture of it, he began: + +"You see, it's like this; we can generally calculate on 'putting a man +through it' if he's anything to do with racing on the Turf. I've seen a +man's face kicked liver colour, and no one knew who did it. But this +parson was a more difficult thing altogether. Then it has been very much +complicated by the fact of his friend coming back. + +"The idea was to get into the chambers on the evening of this Spence's +arrival and put them both through it. In fact, we'd arranged everything +fairly well. But two nights ago, as I was in the American bar, at the +Horsecloth, a man touched me on the arm. It was Detective Inspector +Melton. He knows everything. 'Nunc,' he said, 'sit down at one of these +little tables and have a drink. I want to say a few words to you.' Well, +of course I had to. He knows every one of the boys. + +"'Now, look here,' he said straight out. 'Some of your crowd have been +watching the Rev. Basil Gortre of Lincoln's Inn; also, you've had a man +at Charing Cross waiting for the continental express. Now, I've nothing +against you _yet_, but I'll just tell you this. The people behind you +aren't any guarantee for you. It's not as you think. This is a big +thing. I'll tell you something more. This Mr. Gortre and this Mr. +Spence you're waiting for are guarded night and day by order of the Home +Secretary. It's an international affair. You can no more touch them than +you can touch the Prince of Wales. Is that clear? If it's not, then +you'll come with me at once on suspicion. I can put my finger on Bunny +Watson'--he's my organising pal, gentlemen--'inside of an hour.'" + +He stopped at last, taking another drink with a shaking hand, watching +the other two with horribly observing eyes. + +His cleverness had at once shown him that he had stumbled into something +far more dangerous than any ordinary incident of his horrid trade. A +million pounds would not have made him touch the "business" now. He had +come to say this to his employers now. + +The unhappy men became aware that the man was looking at them both with +a new expression. There was wonder in his cold eyes now, and a sort of +fear also. When Llwellyn had first sought him with black and infamous +proposals, there had been none of this. _That_ had seemed ordinary +enough to him, the reason he did not inquire or seek to know. + +But now there was inquiry in his eyes. + +Both Schuabe and Llwellyn saw it, knew the cause, and shuddered. + +There was a tense silence, and then the creature spoke again. There was +a loathsome confidential note in his voice. + +"Now, gentlemen," he said, "you've already paid me well for any little +kindness I may have been able to try to do for you. I suppose, now that +the little job is 'off,' I shall not get the rest of the sum agreed +upon?" + +Schuabe, without speaking, made a sign to Llwellyn. The big man got up, +went to a little nest of mahogany drawers which stood on his +writing-table, and opening one of them, took from it a bundle of notes. + +He gave them to the assassin. "There, Nunc," he said; "no doubt you've +done all you could. You won't find us ungrateful. But I want to ask you +a few questions." + +The man took the notes, counted them deliberately, and then looked up +with a gleam of satisfied greed passing over his face--the gleam of a +pale sunbeam in hell. + +"Ask anything you like, sir," he said; "I'll give you any help I can." + +Already there was a ring almost of patronage in his voice. The word +"help" was slightly emphasised. + +"This inspector, who is he exactly? I mean, is he an important person?" + +"He is the man who has charge of all the big things. He goes abroad when +one of the big city men bunk to South America. He generally works +straight from the Home Office; he's the Government man. To tell the +truth, I was surprised to meet _him_ in the Horsecloth. One of the +others generally goes there. When _he_ began to talk, I knew that there +was something important, more than usual." + +"He definitely said that he knew your--backers?" + +"Yes, he did; and what's more, gentlemen, he seemed to know too much +altogether about the business. I don't pretend to understand it. _I_ +don't know why a young parson and a press reporter are being looked +after by Government as if they were continental sovereigns and the +Anarchists were trying to get at them--no more than I know why two such +gentlemen as you are wanting two smaller men put through it. But all's +well that ends well. _I'm_ satisfied enough, and I'm extremely glad that +I got this notice in time to stop it off. But whatever you do, +gentlemen, give up any idea of doing those two any harm. You couldn't do +it--couldn't get near them. Give it up, gentlemen. Somehow or other, +they know all about it. Be careful. Now I'm off. Good-day, gentlemen. +Look after yourselves. I fear there is trouble brewing somewhere, though +it won't come through _me_. They can't _prove_ anything on our side." + +He went slowly out of the room, back into the darkness of the pit whence +he came, to the dark which mercifully hides such as he from the gaze of +dwellers under the heavens. + +Only the police of London know all about these men, and their +imaginations are not, perhaps, strong enough to let the horror of +contact remain with them. + +When he had gone, Llwellyn sank heavily into a chair. He covered his +face with his hands and moaned. + +"Oh, fool that I was to try anything of the sort!" hissed Schuabe. "I +might have known!" + +"What is the state of things, really, do you suppose?" said Llwellyn. + +"Imminent with doom for us!" Schuabe answered in a deep and melancholy +voice. "It is all clear to me now. Your woman was set on to you by these +men from the first. They are clever men. Michael Manichoe is behind them +all. She got the story. Spence has been sent to verify it. He has got +everything from Ionides. The Government has been told. These things have +been going on during the last few hours. Spence has cabled something of +his news, perhaps not all. He will be back to-day, this afternoon. He +will have left Paris by now, and almost be nearing Amiens. In that +train, Llwellyn, lies our death-warrant. Nothing can stop it. They will +send the news all over the world to-night. It will be announced in +London by dinner-time, probably." + +Llwellyn groaned again. In this supreme hour of torture the sensualist +was nearer collapse than the ascetic. His life told heavily. He looked +up. His face was green-grey save where, here and there, his fingers had +pressed into, and left red marks upon, the cheeks, which had lost their +firmness and begun to be pendulous and flabby. + +"What do you think must be the end?" he said. + +"The end is here," said Schuabe. "What matters the form or manner of it? +They may bring in a bill and hang us, they will certainly give us penal +servitude for life, but probably we shall be torn in pieces by the mob. +There is only one thing left." + +He made an expressive gesture. Llwellyn shuddered. + +"All is not necessarily at an end," he said. "I shall make a last effort +to get away. I have still got the clergyman's clothes I wore when I went +to Jerusalem. There will be time to get out of London before this +evening." + +"All over the continent and America you would be known. There is no +getting away nowadays. As for me, I shall go down to my place in +Manchester by the mid-day train. There is just time to catch it. And +there I shall die before they can come to me." + +He got up and strode away out of the flat with a set, stern face. Never +a passing look did he give to the man he had enriched and damned for +ever. Never a gesture of farewell. + +Already he was as one in the grave. Llwellyn, left to himself in the +silent, richly furnished flat, fell into hysterical sobbing. + +His big body shook with the vehemence of his unnatural terror. His moans +and cries were utterly without dignity or pathos. He was filled with the +immense self-pity of the sensualist. + +It is the added torture which comes to the evil-liver. + +In the hour of blackness, every moment of physical gratification or sin +adds its weight to the terrible burden which must be borne. + +This man felt that he was lost. Perhaps all hope was not quite dead. He +called on all his courage to make a last attempt at escape. + +He must leave this place at once. He would go first to his house in +Upper Berkeley Street, Lady Llwellyn's house! His wife. + +Something strange and long forgotten moved within him at that word. What +might not his life have been by her side, a life lived in open honour! +What had he done with it all? His great name, his fame, were built up +slowly by his long and brilliant work. Yet all the time that fair +edifice was being undermined by secret workers. The lusts of the flesh +were deep below the structure, their hammers were always slowly +tapping--and now it was all over. + +He drove up to his own door, unlocked it, and went up the stairs to his +own rooms. + +Though he had not been near them for weeks, he saw--with how keen a pang +of regret--that they were swept and tidy, ready for his coming at any +time. + +He rang the bell. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +DEATH COMING WITH ONE GRACE + + +The door opened softly. A long beam of late winter sunshine which had +been pouring in at the opposite window and striking the door with its +projection of golden powder suddenly framed, played over, and lighted up +the figure of Lady Llwellyn. + +Sir Robert stood in the middle of the pleasant room and looked at her. + +The sunlight showed up the grey pallor of her face, the lines of sorrow +and resignation, the faded hair, the thin and bony hands. + +"Kate," he said in a weak voice. + +It was the first time he had called her by her name for many years. + +The tired face lit up with a swift and divine tenderness. + +She made a step forward into the room. + +He was swaying a little, giddy, it seemed. + +She looked him full in the face and saw things there which she had +never seen before. A great horror was upon him, a frightful awakening +from the long, sensual sloth of his life. + +Moving, working, in that great countenance, generally so impassive, +uninfluenced by any emotion--at least to her long watchings--except by a +moody irritation, she saw Doom, Fate, the Call of the Eumenides. + +It came to the poor woman in a sudden wave of illuminating certainty. + +She _knew_ the end had come. + +And yet, strangely enough, she felt nothing but a quickening of the +pulses, a swift embracing pity which was almost a joy in its breaking +away of barriers. + +If the end were here, it should be together--at last together. + +For she loved this cruel, sinning man, this lover of light loves, this +man of purple, fine linen, and the sparkling deadly wines of life. + +"Kate!" + +He said it once more. + +Her manner changed. Shrinking, timidity, fear, fled for ever. In her +overpowering rush of protecting love all the diffidences of temperament, +all the bars which he had forced her to build around her instincts, were +swept utterly away. + +She went quickly up to him, folded him in her arms. + +"Robert!" she said, "poor boy, the end has come to it all. I knew it +must come some day. Well, we have not been happy. I wonder if _you_ have +been happy? No, I don't think so. But now, Robert, you have me to +comfort you with my love once more, my poor Robert, once more, as in the +old, simple days when we were young." + +She led him to a couch. + +He trembled violently. His decision of movement seemed to have gone. +His purpose of flight had for the moment become obscure. + +And now, into this man's heart came a remorse and regret so awful, a +realisation so sudden and strong, so instinct with a pain for which +there is no name, that everything before his eyes turned to burning +fire. + +The flames of his agony burnt up the veils which had for so long +obscured the truth. They shrivelled and vanished. + +Too late, too late, he knew what he had lost. + +The last agony wrenched his brain round again to another and more +terrible contemplation. + +His thoughts were in other and outside hands, which pulled his brain +from one scene to another as a man moves the eye of the camera obscura +to different fields of view. + +Incredible as it may seem, for the first time Llwellyn _realised what he +had done_--realised, that is, in its entirety, the whole horror and +consequences of that action of his which was to kill him now. + +He had not _been able_ to see the magnitude and extent of his crime +before--either at the time when it was proposed to him, except at the +first moment of speech, or after its committal. + +His brain and temperament had been wrapped round in the hideous fact of +sensuality, which deadens and destroys sensation. + +And now, with his wife's thin arms round him, her withered cheek pressed +to his, her words of glad love, a martyr's swan song in his ears, he +_saw_, _knew_, and _understood_. + +Through the terror of his thoughts her words began to penetrate. + +"I know, Robert--husband, I know. The end is here. But what has +happened? Tell me everything, that I may comfort you the more. Tell me, +Robert, _for the dear Christ's sake_!" + +At those words the man stiffened. "For the dear Christ's sake!" + +Suddenly, in the disorder and tumult of his tortured brain, came, quite +foolishly and inconsequently, a quotation from an old French +romance--full of satire and the keen cynicism of a period--which he had +been reading: + + "_'Tres volontiers,' repartit le démon. + 'Vous aimez les tableaux changeans; + Je veux vous contenter.'_" + +Yes! the devil who was torturing him now had shown him many moving +aspects of life. _Les tableaux changeans!_ + +But now, at last, here was the worst moment of all. + +"_For the dear Christ's sake, tell me, Robert!_" + +How could he tell _this_? + +This was his last moment of peace, his last chance of any help or hope. + +He had begun to cling to her, to mingle foolish tears with hers--the +while his fired brain ranged all the halls of agony. + +For if he told her--this gentle Christian lady, to whom he had been so +unkind--then she would never touch him more. + +The last hours--there was but little time remaining--would be alone. +ALONE! + +This new revelation that her love was still his, wonder of mysteries! +this came at the last moments to aid him. + +A last grace before the running waters closed over him. Was he to give +this up? + +The thought of flight lay like a wounded bird in his brain. It crept +about it like some paralysed thing. Not yet dead, but inactive. Though +he knew how terribly the moments called to him, yet he could not act. + +The myriad agonies he was enduring now, agonies so various and great +that he knew Hell had none greater, these, even these were alleviated by +the wonder of his wife's love. + +The terrible remorse that was knocking at his heart could not undo that. + +He clung to her. + +"Tell me all about it, Robert. I will forgive you, whatever you have +done. I have long ago forgiven everything in my heart. There are only +the words to say." + +She rested her worn, tired head on his shoulder. The sunbeams gave it a +glory. + +Again the man must suffer a terrible agony. She had asked him to tell +her all his trouble in a voice full of gentle pleading. + +_Whose voice did her voice recall to him; what fatal hour?_ A coarser +voice, a richer voice, trembling, so he had thought, with love for him. + +"_Tell me everything, Bob!_" It was Gertrude's voice. + +The day of his undoing! The day when his horrid secret was wrested from +him by the levers of his own passions. The day which had brought him to +this. _Finis coronat opus!_ + +But the agony within him was the agony of _contrast_. + +The great fires round his soul had burnt his lust away. There was no +more regret or longing for the evil past. All the joys of a sensual life +seemed as if they had never been. Now, the pain was the pain of a man, +not who knows the worst too soon, but who knows the best too late! + +A vivid picture, a succession of thoughts following each other with such +kinetic swiftness that they became welded in one single picture, as one +may see a vast landscape of wood and torrent, champaign and forest, in +one flash of the storm sword, came to him now. + +And, at the last, he saw himself seated at a great table in a noble +room. There were soft lights. Silver and flowers were there. Round the +board sat many men and women. On their faces was the calm triumph of +those who had succeeded in a fine battle, won an intellectual strife. +The faces were calm, powerful, serene. They were the salt of society. He +saw his own face in a little mirror set among the flowers. His face was +even as their faces. Self-reverence had dignified it, self-knowledge and +self-control had turned the lines to kindly marble, defiant of time. + +At the other end of the table sat a calm and gracious lady, richly +dressed in some glowing sombre stuff. She was the grave and loving +matron who slept by his side. + +Full of honour, full of the glorious satisfaction of a great work well +done, a life lived well; hand in hand, a noble and notable pair, they +were making their fine progress together. + +"I am waiting, Robert, dear!" + +Then he knew that he must speak. In rapid words, which seemed to come +from a vast distance, he confessed it all. + +He told her how Schuabe had tempted him with a vast fortune, how he was +already in his power when the temptation had come. How his evil desires +had so gripped him, his life of sin had become like air itself to him. + +He told of the secret visit to Palestine and the forgery which had +stirred the world. + +As he spoke, he felt, in some subtle way, that the life and warmth were +dying out of the arms which were round him. + +The electric current of devotion which had been flowing from this lady +seemed to flicker and die away. + +The awful story was ended at last. + +Then with a face in which the horror came out in waves, inexpressibly +terrible to see, with each beat of the pulses a wave of unutterable +horror, she slowly rose. + +Her arms fell heavily to her sides, all her motions became automatic, +jerky. + +Slowly, slowly, she turned. + +Her feet made no noise as she moved over the room. Her garments did not +rustle. But she walked, not as an elderly woman, but a very old woman. + +The door clicked softly. He was left alone in the comfortable room. + +Alone. + +He stood up, tottered a few steps in the direction she had gone, and +then, with a resounding crash which shook the furniture in a succession +of quick rattles, his great form fell prone upon the floor. + +He lay there, head downwards, with the sunshine pouring on him, still +and without any reactionary movement. + + * * * * * + +The afternoon was begun. London was as it had been for days. The +uneasiness and unrest which were now become the common incubus of its +inhabitants neither grew nor lessened. + +The afternoon papers were merely repetitions of former days. Great +financial houses were tottering, rumours of wars were growing every +hour, no country was at rest, no colony secure. Over the world +lawlessness and rapine were holding horrid revel. + +But, and long afterwards, this fact was noticed and commented on by the +historians: on this especial winter's afternoon there was no +ultra-alarming shock, speaking comparatively, to the general state of +things. + +In the pale winter sunshine men moved heavily about their business, the +common burden was shared by all, but there was no loud trumpet note +during those hours. + +About four o'clock some carriages drove to Downing Street. In one sat +Sir Michael Manichoe, Father Ripon, Harold Spence, and Basil Gortre. + +In another was the English Consul at Jerusalem, who had arrived with +Spence from the Holy City, Dr. Schmöulder from Berlin, and the Duke of +Suffolk. + +The carriages stopped at the house of the Prime Minister and the party +entered. + +Nothing occurred, visibly, for an hour, though urgent messages were +passing over the telephone wires. + +In an hour's time a cab came driving furiously down the Embankment, +round by the new Scotland Yard and St. Stephen's Club, into Parliament +Street. + +The cab contained the Editor of the _Times_. Following his arrival, in a +few seconds, a number of other cabs drove up, all at a fast pace. Each +one contained a prominent journalist. Ommaney was among the first to +arrive, and Folliott Farmer was with him. + +It was nearly an hour when these people left Downing Street, all with +very grave faces. + +A few minutes after their departure Sir Michael and his party came out, +accompanied by several ministers, including the Home Secretary and the +Chief Commissioner of Police. + +Though the distance to Scotland Yard is only a few hundred yards, the +latter gentleman jumped into a passing hansom and was driven rapidly to +his office. + +This brings the time up to about six o'clock. + + * * * * * + +It was quite dark in Sir Robert's room. A faint yellow flicker came +through the window, which was not curtained, from a gas lamp in the +street. A dull and distant murmur from the Edgeware Road could be dimly +heard, otherwise the room was quite silent. + +Llwellyn did not lie where he had fallen. His swoon had lasted long and +no one had come to succour him. But the end was not just yet. The +merciful oblivion of passing from a swoon into death was denied him. + +He had come to his senses late in the afternoon, about the time that the +large party of people had emerged on foot and in carriages from the +narrow _cul-de-sac_ of Downing Street. + +He had felt very cold, an icy-cold. There had come a terrible moment. +The physical sensation was swamped and forgotten in one frightful flash +of realisation. He was alone, the end was at hand. + +Alone. + +Instinctively he had tried to rise. He was lying face downwards at the +return of sensation. His legs would not answer the message of his brain +when he tried to move them so that he might rise. They lay like long +dead cylinders behind him. He was able to drag himself very slowly, for +a yard or two, until he reached an ottoman. He could not lift the vast +weight of his body into the seat. It was utterly beyond his strength. He +propped his trunk against the seat. It was all he was able to +accomplish. Icy-cold sweat ran down his cheeks at the exertion. After he +had finished moving he found that all strength had left him. + +He was paralysed from the waist downwards. The rest of his body was too +weak to move him. + +Only his brain was working with a terrible activity, there alone in the +chill dark. + +There came into his molten brain the impulse to pray. Deep down in every +human heart that impulse lies. + +It is a seed planted there by God that it may grow into the tree of +salvation. + +The effort was sub-conscious. Almost simultaneously with it came the +awful remembrance of what he had done. + +A name danced in letters of flame in his brain--JUDAS. + +He looked round for some means to end this unbearable torture. He could +see nothing, the room was very cold and dark, but he knew there was a +case of razors on a table by the window. + +When he tried to move he found that he could not. The paralysis was +growing upwards. + +Then this was to be the end? + +A momentary flood of relief came over him. His blood seemed warm again. + +But the sensation died rapidly away, the physical and mental glow alike. + +He remembered those cases, frequent enough, when the whole body loses +the power of movement, but the brain survives, active, alive, helpless. + +And all the sweat which the physical glow had induced turned to little +icicles all over his body, even as the thought froze in his brain. + +An hour went by. + +Alone in the dark. + +His tongue was parched and dry. A sudden wonder came to him--could he +speak still? + +Without realising what word he used as a test he spoke. + +"Kate." + +A gaunt whisper in the silence. + +Silence! How silent it was! Yet no, he could hear the distant rumbling +of the traffic. He became suddenly conscious of it. Surely it was very +loud? + +It must be this physical change which was creeping over him. His head +was swimming, disordered. + +Yet it seemed strangely loud. + +And louder, as he began to listen intently. He could not move his head +to catch the sound more clearly, but he was beginning to hear it well +enough now. + +No traffic ever sounded quite like that. It was like an advancing tide, +thundering, as a horse gallops, over flat, level sands. + +A great sea rushing towards--towards what? + +Then he knew what that sound was. + +At last he knew. + +He could hear the individual shouts that made up the enormous mass of +menacing sound. + +The nation was coming to take its revenge upon its betrayer. + +Mob law! + +They had found him out. It was as Schuabe had said--the great conspiracy +was at an end. The stunning truth was out, flying round the world with +its glad message. + +Yet, though once more the dishonoured Cross gleamed as the one solace in +the hearts of men whose faith had been weak, though at that moment the +glad news was racing round the world, yet the evil was not over. + +The Prince of the Powers of the air had reigned too long. Not lightly +was he to relinquish his sceptre and dominion. + +They were in the erst-while quiet street below. The whole space was +packed with the roaring multitude. The cries and curses came up to him +in one roaring volume of sound, sounds that one looking over the brink +of the pit of hell might hear. + +A heavy blow upon the stout door of the old well-built house shook the +walls where the palsied Judas lay impotent. + +Another crash! The room was much lighter now, the crowd below had lights +with them. + +Crash. + +The door opened silently. Lady Llwellyn came swiftly into the room. + +She wore a long white robe. Her face was lighted as if a lamp shone +behind it. + +In her hand was the great crucifix which was wont to hang above her bed. + +When Christ died and bade the dying thief ascend with him to Paradise, +can we say that His silence condemned the other? + +Her face was all aglow with love. + +"Robert!" she said. Her voice was like the voice of an angel. + +Her arms are round him, her kisses press upon him, the great crucifix is +lifted to his dying eyes. + +A great thunder on the stairs, furious voices, the tide rising higher, +higher. + +Death. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +AT WALKTOWN AGAIN + + +The news came to Walktown, the final confirmation of what had been so +long suspected, in a short telegram from Basil, dispatched immediately +he had left Downing Street. + +Mr. Byars and Helena had been kept well acquainted with every step in +the progress of the investigation. + +Ever since Gortre had left Walktown, after his holiday visit, his +suspicions had been ringing in the vicar's ears. + +Then, when the matter had been communicated to Sir Michael and Father +Ripon, when Spence had started, and Mr. Byars knew that all the powers +of wealth and intellect were at work, his hopes revived. + +The vicar's faith had never for a single moment wavered. + +In the crash of the creeds his deep conviction never wavered. + +The light burned steadily before the altar. + +He had been one of the faithful thousands, learned, simple, Methodist, +ritualist, who _knew_ that this thing could not be. + +Nevertheless his courage had been failing him. Life seemed to have lost +its sweetness, and often he humbly wondered when he should die, hoping +that the time was not too long--not without a tremulous belief that God +would recognise that he had fought the good fight and kept the faith. + +In his own immediate neighbourhood the consequences of the "Discovery" +nearly broke his heart. He had no need to look beyond Walktown. Even the +great political events which were stirring the world had left him +unmoved. His own small corner of the vineyard, now, alas! so choked with +rank, luxuriant growth, was enough for this faithful pastor. Here he saw +nothing but vice suddenly rearing its head and threatening to overwhelm +all else. He heard the Holy Names blasphemed with all the inventions of +obscene imaginations, assailed with all the wit of full-blooded men +amazed and rejoiced that they could stifle their consciences at last. +And this after all his life-work among these folk! He had given them of +his best. His prayers, his intellect, much of his money had been theirs. + +How insolently they had exulted over him, these coarse and vulgar +hearts! + +When Basil had first told Mr. Byars of his suspicions the vicar can +hardly have been blamed for regarding them sadly as the generous effects +of a young and ardent soul seeking to find an _immediate_ way out of the +_impasse_. + +The elder man knew that fraud had been at work, but he suspected no such +modern and insolent attempt as Basil indicated. It was too much to +believe. Gortre had left him most despondent. + +But his interest had soon become quickened and alive, as the private +reports from London reached him. + +When he knew that great people were moving quietly, that the weight of +Sir Michael was behind Gortre, he knew at once that in all probability +Basil's suspicions were right. + +A curious change came over the vicar's public appearances and +utterances. His sermons were full of fire, almost Pauline in their +strength. People began to flow and flock into the great empty church at +Walktown. Mr. Byars's fame spread. + +Then, swiftly, after the first week or two, had come the beginning of +the great financial depression. + +It was felt acutely in Manchester. + +All the wealthy, comfortable, easy-going folk who grudgingly paid a +small pew-rent out of their superfluity became alarmed, horribly +alarmed. The Christianity which had sat so lightly upon them that at +first opportunity they had rushed into the Unitarian meeting-houses +became suddenly a very desirable thing. + +In the fall of Christianity they saw their own fortunes falling. And +these self-deceivers would be swept back upon the tide of this reaction +into the arms of the Anglican mother they had despised. + +The vicar saw all this. He was a keen expert in, and student of, human +affairs, and withal a psychologist. He saw his opportunity. + +His words lashed and stung these renegades. They were made to see +themselves as they were; the preacher cut away all the ground from under +them. They were left face to face with naked shame. + +What puzzled and yet uplifted the congregation at St. Thomas's was their +vicar's extraordinary _certainty_ that the spiritual darkness over the +land was shortly to be removed. + +It was commented on, keenly observed, greatly wondered at. + +"Mr. Byars speaks," said Mr. Pryde, a wealthy solicitor, "as if he had +some private information about this Palestine discovery. He is so +confident that he magnetises one into his own state of mind, and Byars +is not a very emotional man either. His conviction is _real_. It's not +hysteria." + +And, being a shrewd, silent man, the solicitor formed his own +conclusions, but said nothing of them. + +The church continued full of worshippers. + + * * * * * + +When the news from Basil came, the vicar was sitting before the fire in +his lighted study. He had been expecting the telegram all day. + +His brain had been haunted by the picture of that distinguished figure +with the dark red hair he had so often met. + +Again he saw the millionaire standing in his drawing-room proffering +money for scholarships. And in Dieppe also! + +How well and clearly he saw the huge figure of the _savant_ in his coat +of astrachan, with his babble of soups and _entrée_! + +Try as he would, the vicar could not hate these two men. The sin, the +awful sin, yes, a thousand times. Horror could not be stretched far +enough, no hatred could be too great for such immensity of crime. + +But in his great heart, in his large, human nature there was a Divine +_pity_ for this wretched pair. He could not help it. It was part of him. +He wondered if he were not erring in feeling pity. Was not this, indeed, +that mysterious sin against the Holy Ghost for which there was no +forgiveness? Was it not said of Judas that for his deed he should lie +for ever in hell? + +The telegram was brought in by a neat, unconcerned housemaid. + +Then the vicar got up and locked the inner door of his study. He knelt +in prayer and thanksgiving. + +It was a moment of intense spiritual communion with the Unseen. + +This good man, who had given his vigorous life and active intellect to +God, knelt humbly at his study table while a joy and happiness not of +this earth filled all his soul. + +At that supreme moment, when the sense of the glorious vindication of +Christ flooded the priest's whole being with ecstasy, he knew, perhaps, +a faint foreshadowing of the life the Blessed live in Heaven. + +For a few brief moments that imperfect instrument, the human body, was +permitted a glimpse, a flash of the eternal joy prepared for the saints +of God. + +The vicar drew very near the Veil. + +Helena beat at the door; he opened to her, the tall, gracious lady. + +She saw the news in her father's face. + +They embraced with deep and silent emotion. + + * * * * * + +Two hours later the vicarage was full of people. + +The news had arrived. + +Special editions of the evening papers were being shouted through the +streets. Downing Street had spoken, and in Manchester--as in almost +every great city in England--the Truth was pulsing and throbbing in the +air, spreading from house to house, from heart to heart. + +Every one knew it in Walktown now. + +There was a sudden unanimous rush of people to the vicarage. + +Each big, luxurious house all round sent out its eager owners into the +night. + +They came to show the pastor, who had not failed them in the darkness, +their joy and gratitude now that light had come at last. + +How warm and hearty these North-country people were! Mr. Byars had never +penetrated so deeply beneath the somewhat forbidding crust of manner and +surface-hardness before. + +Mingled with the sense of shame and misery at their own lukewarmness, +there was a fine and genuine desire to show the vicar how they honoured +him for his steadfastness. + +"You've been an example to all of us, vicar," said a hard-faced, +brassy-voiced cotton-spinner, a kindly light in his eyes, his lips +somewhat tremulous. + +"We haven't done as we ought to by t' church," said another, "but you'll +see that altered, Mr. Byars. Eh! but our faith has been weak! There'll +be many a Christian's heart full of shame and sorrow for the past months +this night, I'm thinking." + +They crowded round him, this knot of expensively dressed people, +hard-faced and harsh-spoken, with a warmth and contrition which moved +the old man inexpressibly. + +Never before had he been so near to them. Dimly he began to think he saw +a wise and awful purpose of God, who had allowed this iniquity and +calamity that the faith of the world might be strengthened. + +"We'll never forget what you've done for us, Mr. Byars." + +"If we've been lukewarm before, vicar, 't will be all boiling now!" + +"Praise God that He has spoken at last, and God forgive us for +forgetting Him." + +The air was electric with love and praise. + +"Will you say a prayer, vicar?" asked one of the churchwardens. "It +seems the time for prayer and a word or two like." + +The company knelt down. + +It was a curious scene. In the richly furnished drawing-room the group +of portly men and matrons knelt at chairs and sofas, stolid, +respectable, and middle-aged. + +But here and there a shoulder shook with suppressed emotion, a faint sob +was heard. This, to many of them there, was the greatest spiritual +moment they had ever known. Confirmation, communion, all the episodic +mile-stones of the professing Christian's life had been experienced and +passed decorously enough. But the inward fire had not been there. The +deep certainty of God's mysterious commune with the brain, the deep love +for Christ which glows so purely and steadfastly among the saints still +on earth--these were coming to them now. + +And, even as the fires of the Paraclete had descended upon the Apostles +many centuries before, so now the Holy Spirit began to stir and move +these Christians at Walktown. + +The vicar offered up the joy and thanks of his people. He prayed that, +in His mercy, God would never again let such extreme darkness descend +upon the world. Even as He had said, "Neither will I again smite any +more every thing living, as I have done." + +He prayed that all those who had been cast into spiritual darkness, or +who had left the fold of Christ, might now return to it with contrite +hearts and be in peace. + +Finally, they said the Lord's Prayer with deep feeling, and the vicar +blessed them. + +And for each one there that night became a precious, helpful memory +which remained with them for many years. + +Afterwards, while servants brought coffee, always the accompaniment to +any sort of function in Walktown, the talk broke out into a hushed +amazement. + +The news which had been telegraphed everywhere consisted of a statement +signed by the Secretary of State and the archbishops that the discovery +in Palestine was a forgery executed by Sir Robert Llwellyn at the +instigation of Constantine Schuabe. + +"Ample and completely satisfying evidence is in our possession," so the +wording ran. "We render heartfelt gratitude to Almighty God that He has +in His wisdom caused this black conspiracy to be discovered. The thanks +of the whole world, the gratitude of all Christians, must be for those +devoted and faithful men who have been the instruments of Providence in +discovering the Truth. Sir Michael Manichoe, the Rev. Basil Gortre, the +Rev. Arthur Ripon, and Mr. Harold Spence have alone dispelled the clouds +that have hung over the Christian world." + +It was a frightful shock to these people to know how a great magnate +among them, a business _confrère_, the member for their own division, an +intimate, should have done this thing. + +As long as the world lasted the Owner of Mount Prospect who had spoken +on their platforms would be accursed. It was too startling to realise at +once; the thought only became familiar gradually, in little jerks, as +one aspect after another presented itself to their minds. + +It was incredible that this antichrist had been long housed among them +but a mile from where they stood. + +"What will they do to him?" + +"Who can say! There's never been a case like it before, you see." + +"Well, the paper doesn't say, but I expect they've got them safe enough +in London--Mr. Schuabe and the other fellow." + +"Just to think of our Mr. Gortre helping to find it out! Pity we ever +let him go away from the parish church." + +"They can't do less than make him a bishop, I should think." + +"Miss Byars, you ought to be proud of your young man. There's many folk +blessing him in England this night." + +And so on, and so forth; simple, homely speeches, not indeed free from a +somewhat hard commercial view, but informed with kindliness and +gratitude. + +At last, one by one, they went away. It was close upon midnight when the +last visitor had departed. + +The vicar read a psalm to his daughter: + + "_Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to + thy word. For mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou hast + prepared before the face of all people._" + +Basil was to come to them on the morrow for a long stay. + + + + +EPILOGUE + +IN THREE PICTURES + + NOTE.--_The three pictures all synchronise. The episodes they + portray take place five years after the day upon which Sir Robert + Llwellyn died._--G. T. + + +I. THE GRAVE + +Two figures walked over the cliffs. + +The day was wild and stormy. Huge clouds, bursting with sombre light, +sailed over the pewter-coloured sea. The bleak magnificence of the moor +stretched away in endless billows, as sad and desolate as the sea on +which no sail was to be seen. + +The wayfarers turned out of the struggle of the bitter wind into a +slight depression. A few scattered cottages began to come into the field +of their vision. + +Soon they saw the whitewashed buildings of a coast-guard station and the +high, square tower of a church. + +"So it's all settled, Spence," said one of the men, a tall, noble-faced +man, dressed as a clerk in Holy Orders. + +"Yes, Father Ripon," Spence said. "They have offered me the paper. It +was one of poor Ommaney's last wishes. Of course, we were injured in our +circulation by the fact that we were the first to publish the news of +the great forgery. But in two years Ommaney had brought the paper to the +front again. He was wonderful, the first editor of his age. + +"I was there with Folliott Farmer and the doctors when he died. Fancy, +it was the first time I had ever been in his flat, though we had worked +together all these years! The simplest place you ever saw. Just a couple +of rooms, where he slept all the daytime. No luxury, hardly even +comfort. Ommaney had no existence apart from his work. He'd saved nearly +all his very large salary for many years. I am an executor of his will. +He left a legacy to Farmer, and to me also, and the rest to the +Institute of Journalists. But I am persuaded that he did not care in the +least what happened to his money. He never did. He wasn't mean in any +way, but he worked all night and slept all day, and simply hadn't any +use for money. A good-hearted man, a very brilliant editor, but utterly +detached from any _personal_ contact with life." + +Father Ripon's keen face, still as eager and powerful as before, set +into lines of thought. + +He sighed a little. "A modern product," he said at length. "A modern +product, a sign of the times. Well, Spence, a power is entrusted to you +now such as no priest can enjoy. I pray that your editorship of this +great paper will be fine. Try to be fine always. I believe that the Holy +Spirit will be with you." + +They rose up towards the moor again. "There's the church," said Spence, +"where she lies buried. Gortre sees that the grave is kept beautiful +with flowers. It was an odd impulse of yours, Father, to propose this +visit." + +"I do odd things sometimes," said the priest, simply. "I thought that +the sight of this poor woman's resting-place might remind you and me of +what has passed, of what she did for the world--though no one knows it +but our group of friends. I hope that it will remind us, remind you very +solemnly, my friend, in your new responsibility, of what Christ means to +the world. The shadows of the time of darkness, 'When it Was Dark' +during the 'Horror of Great Darkness,' have gone from us. And this poor +sister did this for her Saviour's sake." + +They stood by Gertrude Hunt's grave as they spoke. + +A slender copper cross rose above it, some six feet high. + +"I wonder how the poor girl managed it," said Spence at length; "her +letter was wonderfully complete. Sir Michael--Lord Fencastle, I +mean--showed it me some years ago. She was wonderfully adroit. I suppose +Llwellyn had left papers about or something. But I do wonder how she did +it." + +"That," said Father Ripon, "was what she would never tell anybody." + +"_Requiescat in pace_," said Spence. + +"In Paradise with Saint Mary of Magdala," the priest said softly. + + +THE SECOND PICTURE + +_Quem Deus Vult Perdere._ + +The chaplain of the county asylum stood by the castellated red brick +lodge at the end of the asylum drive, talking to a group of young +ladies. + +The drive, which stretched away nearly a quarter of a mile to the +enormous buildings of the asylum, with their lofty towers and warm, +florid architecture, was edged with rhododendrons and other shrubs. + +The gardens were beautifully kept. Everything was mathematically +straight and clean, almost luxurious, indeed. + +The girls were three in number, young, fashionably dressed. They talked +without ceasing in an empty-headed stream of girlish chatter. + +They were the daughters of a great ironfounder in the district, and +would each have a hundred thousand pounds. + +The chaplain was showing them over the asylum. + +"How sweet of you, Mr. Pritchard, to show us everything!" said one of +the girls. "It's awfully thrilling. I suppose we shall be quite safe +from the violent ones?" + +"Oh, yes," said the chaplain, "you will only see those from a distance; +we keep them well locked up, I assure you." + +The girls laughed with him. + +The party went laughing through the long, spotless corridors, peeping +into the bright, airy living-rooms, where bodies without brains were +mumbling and singing to each other. + +The imbecile who moved vacantly with slobbering lip, the dementia +patient, the log-like, general paralytic--"G. P."--_things_ which must +be fed, the barred and dangerous maniac, they saw them all with pleasant +thrills of horror, disgust, and sometimes with laughter. + +"Oh, Grace, _do_ look at that funny little fat one in the corner--the +one with his tongue hanging out! Isn't he _weird_?" + +"There's one actually _reading_! He _must_ be only pretending!" + +A young doctor joined them--a handsome Scotchman with pleasant manners. + +For a time the lunatics were forgotten. + +"Well, now, have we seen _all_, Doctor Steward?" one of the girls said. +"All the worst cases? It's really quite a new sensation, you know, and I +always go in for new sensations." + +"Did ye show the young leddies Schuabe?" said the doctor to the +chaplain. + +"Bless my soul!" he replied, "I must be going mad myself. I'd quite +forgotten to show you Schuabe." + +"Who is Schuabe?" said the youngest of the sisters, a girl just fresh +from school at Saint Leonards. + +"Oh, _Maisie_!" said the eldest. "Surely you remember. Why, it's only +five years ago. He was the Manchester millionaire who went mad after +trying to blow up the tomb of Christ. I think that was it. It was in all +the papers. A young clergyman found out what he'd been trying to do, and +then he went mad--this Schuabe creature, I mean, not the clergyman." + +"Every one likes to have a look at this patient," said the doctor. "He +has a little sleeping-room of his own and a special attendant. His money +was all confiscated by order of the Government, but they allow two +hundred a year for him. Otherwise he would be among the paupers." + +The girls giggled with pleasurable anticipation. + +The doctor unlocked a door. The party entered a fairly large room, +simply furnished. In an arm-chair a uniformed attendant was sitting, +reading a sporting paper. + +The man sprang up and saluted as he heard the door open. + +On a bed lay the idiot. He had grown very fat and looked healthy. The +features were all coarsened, but the hair retained its colour of dark +red. + +He was sleeping. + +"Now, Miss Clegg, ye'd never think that was the fellow that made such a +stir in the world but five years since. But there he lies. He always +eats as much as he can, and goes to sleep after his meal. He's waking up +now, sir. Here, Mr. Schuabe, some ladies have come to see you." + +_It_ got up with a foolish grin and began some ungainly capers. + +"Thank you _so_ much, Mr. Pritchard," the girls said as they left the +building. "We've enjoyed ourselves so much." + +"I liked the little man with his tongue hanging out the best," said one. + +"Oh, Mabel, you've _no_ sense of humour! That Schuabe creature was the +funniest of _all_!" + + +THE THIRD PICTURE + +A Sunday evensong. The grim old Lancashire church of Walktown is full of +people. The galleries are crowded, every seat in the aisles below is +packed. + +This night, Easter night, the church looks less forbidding. The harsh +note is gone, something of the supreme joy of Holy Easter has driven it +away. + +Old Mr. Byars sits in his stall. He is tired by the long, happy day, and +as the choir sings the last verse of the hymn before the sermon he sits +down. + +The delicate, intellectual face is a little pinched and transparent. Age +has come, but it is to this faithful priest but as the rare bloom upon +the fruits of peace and quiet. + +How the thunderous voices peal in exultation! + +Alleluia! + +Christ is risen! The old man turned his head. His eyes were full of +happy tears. He saw his daughter, a young and noble matron now, standing +in a pew close to the chancel steps. He heard her pure voice, full of +triumph. Christ is risen! + +From his oak chair behind the altar rails Dean Gortre came down towards +the pulpit. + +Young still--strangely young for the dignity which they had pressed on +him for two years before he would accept it--Basil ascended the steps. + +Christ is risen! + +The organ crashed; there was silence. + +All the lights in the church were suddenly lowered to half their height. + +The two candles in the pulpit shone brightly on the preacher's face. + +They all saw that it was filled with holy fire. + +Christ is risen! + + "IF CHRIST BE NOT RISEN YOUR FAITH IS VAIN" + +The church was absolutely still as the words of the text rang out into +it. + +The people were thinking humbly, with contrite hearts, of the shame five +years ago. + + "Would that our imagination, under the conduct of Christian faith, + could even faintly realise the scene when the Human Soul of Our + Lord came with myriads of attendant angels to the grave of Joseph, + to claim the Body that had hung upon the cross. + + "To-night, with the promise and warrant of our own resurrection + that His has given us, our thoughts involuntarily turn to those we + call the dead. We feel that this Easter is for them also an + occasion of rejoicing, and that the happiness of the earthly Church + is shared by the loving and beloved choir behind the veil. + + "Christ is risen! Away with the illusions which may have kept us + from Him. Let us also arise and live. For, as the spouse sings in + the Canticles, 'The winter is past, ... the time of the singing of + birds is come; ... arise, my love, my fair one, and come away!'" + +Christ is risen! + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] This article has already been seen in the preceding chapter. + +[2] This particular instance of the Nurié woman is _not_ all fiction. An +incident much resembling it actually occurred to a well-known writer on +the intimate life of Eastern peoples. For the purposes of the narrative +the _locale_ has been changed from the Jaffa Road--where the event took +place--to Jerusalem itself. + + +THE END + + + * * * * * + + + + + _A Selection from the Catalogue of_ + + G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS + + Complete Catalogues sent on application + + + + + _Bound to excite a great deal of favorable comment_ + + A Lost Cause + + _By_ + + Guy Thorne + Author of "When It Was Dark." + + Crown Octavo----$1.50 + + Mr. Thorne, the author of that much-discussed religious novel, _When + It Was Dark_, which has become the theme of hundreds of sermons, and + has received the highest commendation in the secular press as well + as in the religious publications, has written another powerful book + which also deals with present-day aspects of the Christian religion. + The new story is marked by the same dramatic and emotional strength + which characterized his earlier work. The special theme deals with + certain practices which have caused dissension in the Church, and + the influence of ardent religious convictions on character and + conduct. Written in all sincerity, the book can hardly fail to + arouse wide and varied attention and is destined to take its place + as one of the most interest-compelling works of fiction in recent + years. + + New York--G. P. Putnam's Sons--London + + + + + "Something distinctly out of the common, well conceived, vividly + told, and stirring from start to finish."--_London Telegraph._ + + The Scarlet Pimpernel + + By Baroness Orczy + _Author of "The Emperor's Candlesticks," etc._ + + A dramatic romance of the French Revolution and the Émigré Nobles. + The "Scarlet Pimpernel" was the chief of a daring band of young + Englishmen leagued together to rescue members of the French + nobility from the Terrorists of France. The identity of the + brilliant and resourceful leader is sacredly guarded by his + followers and eagerly sought by the agents of the French + Revolutionary Government. Scenes of intrigue, danger, and devotion, + follow close one upon another. The heroine is a charming, fearless + woman who in the end shares the honors with the "Scarlet + Pimpernel." In a stage version prepared by the author _The Scarlet + Pimpernel_ was one of the dramatic successes of the last London + season, Mr. Fred Terry and Miss Julia Neilson acting the leading + rôles. + + _Crown 8vo, with Illustrations from Photographs of the Play, $1.50_ + + _New York_ ~ G. P. Putnam's Sons ~ _London_ + + + + + _A Fascinating Romance_ + + Love Alone is Lord + + _By_ F. Frankfort Moore + _Author of "The Jessamy Bride," etc._ + + This latest story by the author of _The Jessamy Bride_ has for its + theme the only really ideal love affair in the romantic life of + Lord Byron. The story opens during the poet's boyhood and tells of + his early devotion to his cousin, Mary Chaworth. Mr. Moore has + followed history very closely, and his descriptions of London + society when Byron was the rage are as accurate as they are + dramatic. Lady Caroline Lamb figures prominently in the story, but + the heroine continues to be Byron's early love, Mary Chaworth. His + attachment for his cousin was the strongest and most enduring of + his life, and it failed of realization only by the narrowest of + chances. + + _Crown 8vo, $1.50_ + + G. P. Putnam's Sons + + _New York_ _London_ + + + + + "The cleverest work of the kind written in many years."--_Rochester + Herald._ + + OUR BEST SOCIETY + + A Novel Dealing with the Life of the Rich in New York + + By JOHN D. BARRY + Author of "The Congressman's Wife," "Mademoiselle Blanche," "A + Daughter of Thespis," etc. + + Now in its Second Edition. Crown Octavo. Cloth, $1.50. + + It is one of the most interesting descriptions of modern society + since "The Breadwinners," supposed to be written by John Hay. A + witty and cleverly drawn picture, as sure in its touch and as + effective in its results as a Gibson drawing. + _Town and Country._ + + The book will attract the "initiated" because the author has caught + the real key-note. + _The Independent._ + + Exceedingly clever in many ways. Although it is a really brilliant + satire, there is no bitterness. On the contrary, an air of almost + blissful good-humor pervades every page. + _St. Paul Pioneer-Press._ + + G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS + + New York London + + + * * * * * + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES + +Punctuation has been silently corrected where there are obvious errors. + +Words with hyphens and accents have been standardised. + +Italics are indicated by underscores _like this_. + +Words in Greek script are indicated by equals-signs, =like this=. + +The following corrections of typographical errors have been made: + + "refined and, artistic" to "refined and artistic" (p.3) + + "tolerent" to tolerant" (p. 29) + + "it forget to jeer" to "it forgot to jeer" (p. 49) + + "Salonika cigarrette" to "Salonika cigarette" (p. 53) + + "forty thousands pounds" to "forty thousand pounds" (p. 67) + + "volumn" to "volume" (p. 72) + + "lines cames out upon it" to "lines came out upon it" (p. 90) + + "weathly banker" to "wealthy banker" (p. 107) + + "Dieppe its true significance" to "Dieppe--its true significance" + (p. 108) + + "become more resonant" to "became more resonant" (p. 112) + + "Schaube" to "Schuabe" (p. 193) + + "Sanhedrim of the great" to "Sanhedrin of the great" (p. 235) + + "Neirsteiner" to "Niersteiner" (p. 242) + + "in amazemen" to "in amazement" (p. 261) + + "Sir Ulang Pass" to "Sri Ulang Pass" (p. 293) + + "rising but of the sea" to "rising out of the sea" (p. 323) + + "Exellency" to "Excellency" (p. 350) + + "the lastest visitor" to "the last visitor" (p. 384) + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of When It Was Dark, by Guy Thorne + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEN IT WAS DARK *** + +***** This file should be named 39666-8.txt or 39666-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/6/6/39666/ + +Produced by Mark C. 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