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—"
