“Because I am the younger son--the younger son in more senses than one. The law gives you the dukedom and the estates, and gives me nothing, is a law which makes me suffer for your benefit. And it is the same with all the other laws under which we live. They are all laws made in your favour at my expense. The whole social system has been created to favour you and oppress me. The laws of morality, as you call them, they are all made by men like you, and against men like me. You have regulated the world to suit yourself, and the man whom your regulations do not suit is sacrificed to secure your happiness. Yes, it is just like the old days when they buried a victim under the foundation stone, to make the building safe. You and your world, society, civilization, the British Empire--call it what you like--you are the builders, and it is the building; and all we whom you hang and exile and imprison--Jacobites in one century and anarchists in another, Byron and Shelley above, and the pickpocket and drunkard below--all we are the foundation victims, whom you sacrifice in order to secure your State.” Trent felt out of his depth. In his confusion of mind he said the most unwise thing he could have said. “You speak as though there were no such thing as religion. What you are really attacking is Christianity. You are not a Christian.” Then Alistair looked at him gravely and steadily, and the thought that had been growing and taking shape in his mind ever since the night he had stood on Westminster Bridge came out firm and distinct at last. “I am a christ!” “Alistair!” Genuine consternation showed in the listener’s face and voice. He actually feared that his brother was out of his mind.