d aright. For the Marquis of Arranmore's forefinger was
stretched out towards him--a gesture at once relentless and scornful,
and the words to which he was forced to listen were not pleasant ones to
hear.

"It is such sentiments as these," the Marquis of Arranmore was
saying--and his words came like drops of ice, slow and distinct--"such
sentiments as these voiced by such men as the Lord Bishop of Beeston in
such high places as this where we are now assembled, which have created
and nourished our criminal classes, which have filled our prisons and
our workhouses, and in time future if his lordship's theology is correct
will people Hell. And as for the logic of it, was ever the intelligence
of so learned and august a body of listeners so insulted before? Is
charity, then, for the deserving and the deserving only? Are we to put
a premium upon hypocrisy, to pass by on the other side from those who
have fallen, and who by themselves have no power to rise? This is
precisely his lordship's proposition. The one great charitable
institution of our times, founded upon a logical basis, carried out with
a devotion and a self-sacrifice beyond all praise, he finds pernicious
and pauperizing, because, forsooth, the drunkard and criminals are
welcome to avail themselves of it, because it seeks to help those who
save for such help must remain brutes themselves and a brutalizing
influence to others."

There was a moment's deep silence. To those who were watching the
speaker closely, and amongst them Brooks, was evident some sign of
internal agitation. Yet when he spoke again his manner was, if
possible, more self-restrained than ever. He continued in a low clear
tone, without any further gesture and emotion.

"My lords, I heard a remark not intended for my ears, upon my rising,
indicative of surprise that I should have anything to say upon such a
subject as this. Lest my convictions and opinions should seem to you
to be those of an outsider, let me tell you this. You are listening to
one who for twelve years lived the life of this unhappy people, dwelt
amongst them as a police-court missionary--one who was driven even into
some measure of insanity by the horrors he saw and tasted, and who
recovered only by an ignominious flight into a far-off country. His
lordship the Bishop of Beeston has shown you very clearly how little he
knows of the horrors which seethe beneath the brilliant life of this
wonderful city. He has brought it upon h