"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 be-
