A long boat was creeping out from behind the reef. Spence went to his cabin to see after his light kit. It was better to move and work than to think. * * * * * It was early morning, the morning after Spence's arrival in Jerusalem. He slept well and soundly in his hotel room, tired by the long ride--for he had come on horseback over the moonlit slopes of Ajalon. When at length he awoke it was with a sensation of mental and bodily vigour, a quickening of all his pulses in hope and expectation, which was in fine contrast to the doubts and hesitations of the Jaffa roads. A bright sun poured into the room. He got up and went to the window. There was a deep, unspoken prayer in his heart. The hotel was in Akra, the European and Christian quarter of Jerusalem, close by the Jaffa Gate, with the Tower of Hippicus frowning down upon it. The whole extent of the city lay beneath the windows in a glorious panorama, washed as it was in the brilliant morning light. Far beyond, a dark shadow yet, the Olivet range rose in background to the minarets and cupolas below it. His eye roved over the prospect, marking and recognising the buildings. There was the purple dome of the great Mosque of Omar, very clear against the amber-primrose lights of dawn. Where now the muezzin called to Allah, the burnt-offerings had once smoked in the courts of the Temple--it was in that spot the mysterious veil had parted in symbol of God's pain and death. It was in the porches bounding the court of the Gentiles that Christ had taught. Closer, below the Antonia Tower, rose the dark, lead-covered cupola of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. Great emotion came to him as he gazed at the shrine sacred above all others for so many centuries. He thought of that holy spot diminished in its ancient glory in the eyes of half the Christian world. Perhaps no more would the Holy Fire burst forth from the yellow, aged marble of the Tomb at Easter time. Who could say? Was not he, Harold Spence, there to try that awful issue? He wondered, as he gazed, if another Easter would still see the wild messengers bursting away to Nazareth and Bethlehem bearing The Holy Flame. The sun became suddenly more powerful. It threw a warmer light into the grey dome, and, deep down, the cold, dark waters of Hezekiah's Pool became bright and golden. The sacred places focussed the light and sprang into a new life. He made the sign of the Cross, wondering fancifully if this were an omen. Then with a shudder he looked to the left towards the ogre-grey Turkish battlements of the Damascus Gate. It was there, over by the Temple Quarries of Bezetha, the New Tomb of Joseph lay. Yes! straight away to the north lay the rock-hewn sepulchre where the great doctors had sorrowfully pronounced the end of so many Christian hopes.