A Second Coming Part 38

'Against Me?'

The Cardinal staggered against the wall, trembling so that he could hardly stand. The Archbishop cried, also trembling:

'What ails your Eminence? Cardinal, what is wrong?'

His Eminence replied, as if he all at once were short of breath:

'The rock--on which--the Church is founded--slips beneath my feet!'

The Archbishop surveyed him with frightened eyes.

CHAPTER XXIII

AND THE CHILD

The noise in the street had continued without ceasing. It grew louder. A sound arose as of many voices shrieking. While it still filled the air the lame man and the charcoal-burner descended from an upper room. They spoke of the tumult.

'The people are fighting with the police as if they have gone mad.'

'They seek Me,' said the Stranger.

The lame man looked at him anxiously.

'You!'

'Even Me. Fear not. All will be well.'

'Who are these persons?' inquired the Archbishop.

'They are of those that know Me.'

'Ay,' said the charcoal-burner, 'I know You--know You very well, I do. So did my old woman; she knowed You, too. I be that glad to have seen You. It's done me real good, that it have.'

'You have been with me so long; then this little while, and soon for ever.'

'Ay, very soon.'

'Father, these are of those that know Thy Son.'

He touched with His hand the six persons that were about Him.

The Archbishop plucked the Cardinal by the sleeve.

'I--I really think we'd better go. I--I'm not feeling very well.'

There came a succession of crashes. The Cardinal stood up.

'What's that? It's stones against the windows. Unless I err, they have shivered every pane.'

Someone knocked loudly at the door. The Cardinal moved as if to open.

The Archbishop sought to restrain him.

'What are you doing? It isn't safe to open. The people may come in.'

The Cardinal smiled.

'Let them. The sooner the thing is done the better. To you and me what does it matter what comes?'

On the doorstep stood that Secretary of State who had given the dinner at which the Archbishop had been present. Behind him was the yelling mob.

'Your Eminence! This is an unexpected pleasure. The Archbishop, too!

How delightful! The people seem in a curious frame of mind; our friend Braidwood is justified--already. It's a wonder I'm here alive.

I am told that several persons have been killed in the crowd-- terrible! terrible! My own opinion is that we're threatened with the most serious riot which London has known in my time. Ah, dear sir!'

He bowed to the Stranger. 'I need not ask if you are he to whom I desire to tender my sincerest salutations. There is that about you which tells me that I stand in the presence of no mean person.

Unfortunately, I am so const.i.tuted as to be incapable of those more ardent feelings which are to the enthusiast his indispensable equipment. Therefore I am not of that material out of which they fashion devotees. Yet, since I cannot doubt that my trifling personal peculiarities are known to him who, as I am informed, knows all, I venture to trust that they will be regarded as extenuating circ.u.mstances should I ever stand in instant need of palliation.'

The Stranger was still.

The stones still rattled against the windows, smashed against the door. Again there came a knocking. The tumult had grown so great, the cries so threatening, that those within were trembling, hesitating what to do. When the Stranger moved towards the door, the Secretary of State prevented Him.

'Sir, I beg of you! I fear it is you they wish to see, with what purpose you may imagine from the noise which they are making. Permit me to answer the knocking. At the present moment I am of less public interest than you.'

He opened. There was an excited sergeant of police.

'The person who's in here must get away by the back somewhere at once; those are my orders. The people have found out that they can get to this house from the street behind; they're starting off to do it. We don't want murder done, and there will be murder if he doesn't take himself off pretty quick.'

'Is it so bad as that?'

'So bad as that? Look at them yourself. I never saw them in such a state. They're stark, staring mad. All the streets about are full of them; they're all the same. That man Walters and his friends have been working a lot of them into a frenzy; murder is what they mean.

Then there's over a hundred been killed in front here, so I'm told-- poor wretches who came to be healed. The crowd will tear him to pieces if they get him. He must get away somehow over the walls at the back.'

'Over the walls at the back?'

'He can't get away by the front. We couldn't save him--n.o.body could.

I tell you they'll tear him to pieces.'

As the sergeant spoke the Stranger came and stood at the door by the Secretary of State. A policeman rushed up the steps bearing something in his arms. He addressed the sergeant.

'This child's dead. Sir William Braidwood says most of the bones in its body are broken; it's crushed nearly to a jelly. It doesn't seem to have had any friends or anything. Could you see it taken into the house?'

The sergeant received the child. The Stranger said to him: 'Give it to Me.'

'You? Why you? Let it be taken into the house and put decent.'