of Parliament and the
humbler humped shoulders of the Abbey, for the short man was in clerical
dress. The official description of the tall man was M. Hercule Flambeau,
private detective, and he was going to his new offices in a new pile of
flats facing the Abbey entrance. The official description of the short
man was the Reverend J. Brown, attached to St. Francis Xavier's Church,
Camberwell, and he was coming from a Camberwell deathbed to see the new
offices of his friend.

The building was American in its sky-scraping altitude, and American
also in the oiled elaboration of its machinery of telephones and lifts.
But it was barely finished and still understaffed; only three tenants
had moved in; the office just above Flambeau was occupied, as also
was the office just below him; the two floors above that and the three
floors below were entirely bare. But the first glance at the new tower
of flats caught something much more arresting. Save for a few relics of
scaffolding, the one glaring object was erected outside the office
just above Flambeau's. It was an enormous gilt effigy of the human eye,
surrounded with rays of gold, and taking up as much room as two or three
of the office windows.

"What on earth is that?" asked Father Brown, and stood still. "Oh, a
new religion," said Flambeau, laughing; "one of those new religions that
forgive your sins by saying you never had any. Rather like Christian
Science, I should think. The fact is that a fellow calling himself Kalon
(I don't know what his name is, except that it can't be that) has taken
the flat just above me. I have two lady typewriters underneath me, and
this enthusiastic old humbug on top. He calls himself the New Priest of
Apollo, and he worships the sun."

"Let him look out," said Father Brown. "The sun was the cruellest of all
the gods. But what does that monstrous eye mean?"

"As I understand it, it is a theory of theirs," answered Flambeau, "that
a man can endure anything if his mind is quite steady. Their two great
symbols are the sun and the open eye; for they say that if a man were
really healthy he could stare at the sun."

"If a man were really healthy," said Father Brown, "he would not bother
to stare at it."

"Well, that's all I can tell you about the new religion," went on
Flambeau carelessly. "It claims, of course, that it can cure all
physical diseases."

"Can it cure the one spiritual disease?" asked Father Brown, with a
serious curiosity.