"The interview was excessively painful, as I had anticipated," he began. "The result has been this: I have been able to get no direct absolute confirmation of what we think. On the other hand, what I _have_ heard establishes something and has made me morally certain that we are on the right track. I think there can be no doubt about that. Again, there is a strong possibility that we shall know much more very shortly." "Have you had anything to eat?" asked Sir Michael. "No, sir, and I'm hungry after my journey. I'll have some of this cold beef, and tell you everything that has happened while I eat." He sat down, began his meal, and told his story in detail. "I found Miss Hunt," he said, "in her little cottage by the coast-guard watch-house, looking over the sea. Of course, as you know, she is known as Mrs. Hunt in the village. Only the rector knows her story--she has made herself very beloved in Eastworld, even in the short time she has been there. I asked her, first of all, about her life in general. Then, without in any way indicating the object of my visit--at that point--I led the conversation up to the subject of the Palestine 'discovery.' Of course she had heard of it, and knew all the details. The rector had preached upon it, and the whole village, so it seems, was in a ferment for a week or so. Then, in both Church and the Dissenting chapels--there are two--the whole thing died away in a marvellous manner. The history of it was extremely interesting. Every one came to service just the same as usual, life went on in unbroken placidity. The fishermen, who compose the whole population of the village, absolutely _refused_ to believe or discuss the thing. So utterly different from townspeople! They simply felt and knew intuitively that the statements made in the papers _must_ be untrue. So without argument or worry they ignored it. Miss Hunt said that the church has been fuller than ever before, the people coming as a sort of stubborn protest against any attack upon the faith of their fathers. For her own part, when she realised what the news meant or would mean, Miss Hunt had a black time of terror and struggle. She is a woman with a good brain, and saw at once what it would mean to her. Her own words were infinitely pathetic. 'I went out on the sands,' she said, 'and walked for miles. Then when I was tired out I sat down and cried, to think that there would never be any Jesus any more to save poor girls. It seemed so empty and terrible, and I'd only been trying to be good such a short time. I went to evensong when I got back; the bell was tolling just as usual. And as I sat there I saw that it _couldn't_ be true that Jesus was just a good man, and not God. I wondered at myself for doubting, seeing what He'd done for me. If the paper was right, then why was it I was so happy, happier than ever before in my life--although I am going to die soon? Why was it that I could go away and leave Bob