Once on coming out of his headquarters he met Silas, who was walking up the street with two or three of his committee-men. In accordance with the ordinary amenities of English political life, the two candidates shook hands, and withdrew a pace or two aside to chat for a while. This was the first time they had come together since the afternoon of revelation, and there was a moment of constraint during which Silas tugged at his streaked beard and looked with mournful wistfulness at his son. "I wish I were not your opponent, Paul," said he in a low voice, so as not to be overheard. "That doesn't matter a bit," Paul replied courteously. "I see you're putting up an excellent fight." "It's the Lord's battle. If it weren't, do you think I would not let you win?" The same old cry. Through sheer repetition, Paul began almost to believe in it. He felt very weary. In his father's eyes he recognized, with a pang, the glow of a faith which he had lost. Their likeness struck him, and he saw himself, his old self, beneath the unquestioning though sorrowful eyes. "That's the advantage of a belief in the Almighty's personal interest," he answered, with a touch of irony: "whatever happens, one is not easily disillusioned." "That is true, my son," said Silas. "Jane is well?" Paul asked, after an instant's pause, breaking off the profitless discussion. "Very well." "And Barney Bill?" "He upbraids me bitterly for what I have said." Paul smiled at the curiously stilted phrase. "Tell him from me not to do it. My love to them both." They shook hands again, and Paul drove off in the motor car that had been placed at his disposal during the election, and Silas continued his sober walk with his committee-men up the muddy street. Whereupon Paul conceived a sudden hatred for the car. It was but the final artistic touch to this comedy of mockery of which he had been the victim.... Perhaps God was on his father's side, after all--on the side of them who humbly walked and not of them who rode in proud chariots. But his political creed, his sociological convictions rose in protest. How could the Almighty be in league with all that was subversive of social order, all that was destructive to Imperial cohesion, all that which inevitably tended to England's downfall? He turned suddenly to his companion, the Conservative agent. "Do you think God has got common sense?" The agent, not being versed in speculations regarding the attributes of the Deity, stared; then, disinclined to commit himself, took refuge in platitude. "God moves in a mysterious way, Mr. Savelli." "That's rot," said Paul. "If there's an Almighty, He must move in a common-sense way; otherwise the whole of this planet would have busted up long ago. Do you think it's common sense to support the present Government?" "Certainly not," said the agent, fervently. "Then if God supported it, it wouldn't be common sense on His part. It would be merely mysterious?"