and her
neighbours find themselves there, they will realize that hell, for its
lost, is the loneliest spot in the universe, since each soul will hate
the other and will live alone, apart in its own hideous realm of
anguish and remorse."
Lifting his eyes to his visitor's face, as the latter delivered himself
to this strange speech, Bastin was startled to note the expression on
the handsome face. The eyes, unutterably sad for one instant, turned
suddenly to savage hate, the mouth was as cruel as death, the eyes grew
baleful, like the eyes of a snake that is being whipped to death.
He was startled even more by the tones of his voice when he said:
"And what of the Anti-christ of whom you have spoken and written? Do
you believe what you have written?"
"I most certainly do," replied Ralph.
Again the sardonic smile filled all Apleon's face as he returned:
"Then if all that you say and write be true, as regards the coming
Anti-christ, and you continue to wear the late editor's mantle when you
write 'The Prophet's chair' articles, how long do you suppose that that
powerful _super_-man, the Anti-christ of your belief, will let you
alone. If he is to be so powerful, and if the devil is to energize
him, as you say;--even as you profess to believe that he has called
into being--is now actually dwelling on the earth, though invisible,
and all his angels (demons, I believe they are called in the Bible) are
moving about invisibly among the people on the earth, among the people
of this wonderful London, if all this, I say, be so, how long do you
suppose you will be allowed, by his Satanic Majesty, to ply your trade
of warner of the peoples? Why, man, your life is not worth the snap of
a finger?"
Ralph smiled. The smile transfigured his face, even as the same sort
of smile transfigured the faces of the martyrs of old time, beginning
with Stephen.
"I care not how long I live," he replied. "The only care I have now is
to be true to my convictions, true to my God."
The telephone rang at that instant. "Excuse me one moment, Mr.
Apleon," he said, turning to the instrument.
There followed a few moments exchanges on the 'phone, then replacing
the receiver he turned. But his visitor was gone.
"That's curious!" he muttered. "I did not hear a sound of his going,
any more than I did of his coming. Uncanny, eerie, creepy, almost!"
There was a tap at the door. "Come in!" he called. The messenger boy,
Charley, en
|