"Nor would I. I've got as much faith as my brother. And as to what Christ would do or would not do in any given case, 'tis a matter for very close reasoning, because we act only seeing the outside of a puzzle; He would act seeing the inside. To say that we always know what the Lord would do, is to say we're as wise as Him. To go to the Bible for an answer to trouble is right enough though. 'Tis like a story I read in a wise book a few nights agone; for I've taken to reading a terrible lot of books lately. It told how two fellows fell out and fought like a pair of martin-cats over a bit of ground. Each said 'twas his, and presently they carried their trouble to a wise king, as reigned over a near nation, and was always happy to talk sense to anybody who had the time to listen. So to the neighbour kingdom they went, and yet never got to the king at all. And why not? Because, so soon as they were in his land, they found the spirit and wisdom of him working like barm in bread throughout the length and breadth of the place. They saw peace alive. They saw the people living in brotherly love and unity and understanding. They saw the religion of give and take at work. They saw travellers yielding the path to each other; they saw kindness and goodness and patience the rule from the cradle to the grave; and they felt so terrible ashamed of their own little pitiful quarrel that they dursn't for decency take it afore the throne, but made friends there and then and shared the strip of earth between 'em. And so 'tis with the Bible, Rupert: you bring a trouble into the Lord's kingdom and you'll find, in the clear light shining there, that it quickly takes a shape to shame you." "'Tis pretty much what Uncle Nat said in other words. But didn't it ought to make you give me ten shillings for Coombes?" "'Tisn't for us to stand between the State and its work." "But his wife and children?" "The sins of the fathers are visited on the children. Who are we to come between God Almighty and His laws?" Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "Christ Almighty would have done--what?" asked Mr. Baskerville. Rupert reflected. "He'd have done something, for certain. Why, of course! He'd have healed the man's broken legs first!" "And that's what mankind is doing as best it can." "And if the man dies?" "Then the State will look after his leavings." "You're justice itself," said Rupert; "but man's justice be frosty work." "That's right enough. Justice and mercy is the difference between God and Christ. The one's a terrible light to show the way and mark the rock and point the channel through the storm; but 'twill dazzle your eyes if you see it too close, remember. And t'other's to the cold heart what a glowing fire be to the cold body." "And I say that Uncle Nathan's just that--a glowing, Christlike sort of man," declared the younger fervently.