He broke off. Amazing to see the rapt devotion that now lighted up his ugly face until it shone with saintly beauty. The harsh lines were softened, the eyes were gentle, the mouth tender. "Then indeed," he almost whispered, "I might say my 'Nunc Dimittis' and go." It was not he alone who was stirred. Martin spoke eagerly: "Is that the Wistons of the _Four Creeds_?--the man who wrote _The New Apocalypse_?" Foster smiled. "There's only one Wistons," he said, pride ringing in his voice as though he were speaking of his favourite son, "for all the world." "Why, that would be magnificent," Martin said, "if he'd come. But would he? I should think that very doubtful." "I think he would," said Foster softly, still as though he were speaking to himself. "Why, that, of course, is wonderful!" Martin looked round upon them all, his eyes glowing. "There isn't a man in England----" He broke off. "But surely if there's a _real_ chance of getting Wistons nobody on the Chapter would dream of proposing a man like Forsyth. It's incredible!" "Incredible!" burst in Foster. "Not a bit of it! Do you suppose Brandon--I beg pardon for mentioning his name, as we're all so particular--do you suppose Brandon wouldn't fight just such a man? He regards him as dangerous, modern, subversive, heretical, anything you please. Wistons! Why, he'd make Brandon's hair stand on end!" "Well," said Martin gravely, "if there's any real chance of getting Wistons into this diocese I'll work for it with my coat off." "Good," said Bentinck-Major, tapping with a little gold pencil that he had been fingering, on the table. "Now we are all agreed. The next question is, what steps are we to take?" They all looked instinctively at Ronder. He felt their glances. He was happy, assured, comfortable once more. He was master of them. They lay in his hand for him to do as he would with them. His brain now moved clearly, smoothly, like a beautiful shining machine. His eyes glowed. "Now, it's occurred to me----" he said. They all drew their chairs closer. Chapter V Falk by the River Upon that same evening when the conspirators met in Bentinck-Major's handsome study Mrs. Brandon had a ridiculous fit of hysterics. She had never had hysterics before; the fit came upon her now when she was sitting in front of her glass brushing her hair. She was dressing for dinner and could see her reflection, white and thin, in the mirror before her. Suddenly the face in the glass began to smile and it became at that same instant another face that she had never seen before. It was a horrid smile and broke suddenly into laughter. It was as though the face had been hit by something and cracked then into a thousand pieces.