this an accusation?" asked Kalon very quietly.

"No," answered Brown, equally gently, "it is the speech for the
defence."

In the long and startled stillness of the room the prophet of Apollo
slowly rose; and really it was like the rising of the sun. He filled
that room with his light and life in such a manner that a man felt he
could as easily have filled Salisbury Plain. His robed form seemed to
hang the whole room with classic draperies; his epic gesture seemed to
extend it into grander perspectives, till the little black figure of the
modern cleric seemed to be a fault and an intrusion, a round, black blot
upon some splendour of Hellas.

"We meet at last, Caiaphas," said the prophet. "Your church and mine are
the only realities on this earth. I adore the sun, and you the darkening
of the sun; you are the priest of the dying and I of the living God.
Your present work of suspicion and slander is worthy of your coat and
creed. All your church is but a black police; you are only spies and
detectives seeking to tear from men confessions of guilt, whether by
treachery or torture. You would convict men of crime, I would convict
them of innocence. You would convince them of sin, I would convince them
of virtue.

"Reader of the books of evil, one more word before I blow away your
baseless nightmares for ever. Not even faintly could you understand
how little I care whether you can convict me or no. The things you
call disgrace and horrible hanging are to me no more than an ogre in a
child's toy-book to a man once grown up. You said you were offering the
speech for the defence. I care so little for the cloudland of this life
that I will offer you the speech for the prosecution. There is but one
thing that can be said against me in this matter, and I will say it
myself. The woman that is dead was my love and my bride; not after such
manner as your tin chapels call lawful, but by a law purer and sterner
than you will ever understand. She and I walked another world from
yours, and trod palaces of crystal while you were plodding through
tunnels and corridors of brick. Well, I know that policemen, theological
and otherwise, always fancy that where there has been love there
must soon be hatred; so there you have the first point made for the
prosecution. But the second point is stronger; I do not grudge it you.
Not only is it true that Pauline loved me, but it is also true that this
very morning, before she died, she wrote at th