“Well, even the greatest mind has its inexplicable weakness.” Thus with infinite patience and cunning did Malone drop his little drops of reason in the hope of slowly wearing away the casing of prejudice, but no very visible effects could be seen. Some stronger measure must be adopted and Malone determined upon direct demonstration. But how, when, and where? Those were the all-important points upon which he determined to consult Algernon Mailey. One spring afternoon found him back in that drawing-room where he had once rolled upon the carpet in the embrace of Silas Linden. He found the Rev. Charles Mason, and Smith, the hero of the Queen’s Hall debate, in deep consultation with Mailey upon a subject which may seem much more important to our descendants that those topics which now bulk large in the eyes of the public. It was no less than whether the psychic movement in Britain was destined to take a Unitarian or a Trinitarian course. Smith had always been in favour of the former, as had the old leaders of the movement and the present organised Spiritualist Churches. On the other hand, Charles Mason was a loyal son of the Anglican Church, and was the spokesman of a host of others, including such weighty names as Lodge and Barrett among the laymen, or Wilberforce, Haweis and Chambers among the clergy, who clung fast to the old teachings while admitting the fact of spirit communication. Mailey stood between the two parties, and, like the zealous referee in a boxing-match who separates the two combatants, he always took a chance of getting a knock from each. Malone was only too glad to listen, for now that he realised that the future of the world might be bound up in this movement, every phase of it was of intense interest to him. Mason was holding forth in his earnest, but good-humoured, way as he entered. “The people are not ready for a great change. It is not necessary. We have only to add our living knowledge, and direct communion of the saints to the splendid liturgy and traditions of the Church, and you will have a driving-force which will revitalise all religion. You can’t pull a thing up from the roots like that. Even the early Christians found that they could not, and so they made all sorts of concessions to the religions around them.” “Which was exactly what ruined them,” said Smith. “That was the real end of the Church in its original strength and purity.” “It lasted, anyhow.” “But it was never the same from the time that villain Constantine laid his hands on it.” “Oh, come!” said Mailey. “You must not write down the first Christian emperor as a villain.” But Smith was a forthright, uncompromising, bull-doggy antagonist. “What other name will you give to a man who murdered half his own family?” “Well, his personal character is not the question. We were talking of the organisation of the Christian Church.” “You don’t mind my frankness, Mr. Mason?”