The doctor was obviously annoyed by the incident. “Gross carelessness on the part of someone,” he said. “The deputation is already due, and the Home Office desires us in the special and quite unprecedented circumstances of the case to present as normal an appearance as we can. In other words, it doesn’t want representatives of our own and foreign governments to be welcomed by a parcel of lunatics. That will not help anybody; besides, as the Home Office says, it is desirable that no slur should be cast on the profession of literature.” “And on the memory of the Master,” whispered the vicar in his hushed voice. “Quite so. I fully agree. The dear fellow! And to think he was able to win a prize of seven thousand pounds, not to mention the many thousands his work is earning all over the world, from which, by the way, deserving charities are benefiting.” “Did he know that his work was producing these large sums?” “Oh, yes. And I think the knowledge gave him pleasure. But he never regarded a penny as his own. He left it to Mr. Brandon and myself--two just men I am proud to think he called us--to give back again, as he said, ‘that which had been given to him, in the way likely to do the most good.’” “He was quite selfless,” said the vicar. “Absolutely. And he is the only man I have known, or am ever likely to know, of whom that statement could be truly made. I have known good men, I have known men with high, forward-looking souls, but I have never known a man so near His model that if it had not existed already one almost felt that such a man must have created it. In fact, John Smith will stand out in my experience as the most remarkable case I have known. He believed until he became.” “As you say, he believed until he became. And he made a prophecy which he has lived to fulfill.” “What was the prophecy he made?” “That he would heal the wounds of the world.” “I wonder, I wonder.” “Oh ye of little faith!” whispered the vicar. The tears that rose to his eyes were like the blood of his heart. Hardly had Mr. Perry-Hennington spoken the words when both he and Doctor Thorp perceived a stir at the doors of the main entrance to the institution, now in view at the far end of the corridor along which they were passing. No more than a glance was needed to tell them that the deputation was in the act of arrival. Beyond the open doors, a large motor car and an imposing array of silk hats were clearly visible in the half-light of the wet afternoon. As the doctor and the vicar came to the main entrance, several persons entered the building. Foremost of these were Gervase Brandon and a very noble-looking old man with snow-white hair and the eyes of a child. In one hand he carried his hat, in the other a large bunch of lilies held together with a broad ribbon of white satin.