THE ARCHBISHOP AND THE HAMLYNS
"Gussie Davies says that she's sure that Miss Pritchett hasn't added a
codicil," said Mr. Sam Hamlyn, coming into the inner room at the offices
of the Luther League.
Mr. Hamlyn, Senior, had been at work for some hours, but his son had
only just arrived in the Strand. It was the day after Miss Pritchett's
death, and Sam had remained in North London to make a few inquiries.
"What a blessing of Providence," said the secretary. "There's something
to be said for a ritualistic way of dying, after all! If it 'adn't been
for her messing about with the oil and that, she'd have sent for her
solicitor and cut the League out of her will! The priests have been
'oist with their own petard this time."
"I wonder how much it'll be," Sam said reflectively.
"I don't anticipate a penny less than two thousand pound," said Mr.
Hamlyn, triumphantly. "P'raps a good bit over. You see, we got 'er just
at the last moment. It was me taking the consecrated wafer did it. She
woke up as pleased as Punch, it gave her strength for the afternoon, and
had the lawyer round at once. I never thought she'd go off so sudden,
though."
"Nor did I, Pa. Well, it's a blessing that she was able to contribute
her mite towards Protestant Truth before she went."
"What?" said Mr. Hamlyn sharply; "mite?--has Gussie Davies any idea of
'ow much the legacy is, then?"
"I only spoke figuratively like, Father."
"How you startled me, Sam!" said the secretary, his face resuming its
wonted expression of impudent good humour.
"How's the cash list to-day?" Sam asked.
"Pretty fair," answered his father, "matter of five pound odd. It's me
getting hold of that wafer, it's sent the subscriptions up wonderful. I
wouldn't part----"
Sam, who was sitting with his back to the door of the room, saw his
father's jaw drop suddenly. His voice died away with a murmur, his face
went pale, his eyes protruded.
The younger man wheeled round his chair. Then he started up, with an
exclamation of surprise and fear.
Both the Protestant champions, indeed, behaved as if they had been
discovered in some fraud by an agent of the law.
Two people had come suddenly into the room, without knocking or being
announced. The secretaries saw the blanched face of a clerk behind them.
During its existence, the Luther League had welcomed some fairly
well-known folk within its doors.
This afternoon, however, a most unexpected honour had been paid to
it--probably the reason of Hamlyn's extreme uneasiness.
A broad, square man of considerable height, with a stern, furrowed face,
wearing an apron and gaiters, stood there, with a thunder-cloud of anger
on his face.
It was His Grace, the Archbishop of Canterbury.
Lord Huddersfield was with him.
The Archbishop looked steadfastly at Hamlyn for a few seconds. His face
was terrible.
In the presence of the great spiritual lord who is next to the royal
family in the precedence of the realm, the famous scholar, the caustic
wit, the utter force and _power_ of intellect, the two champions were
dumb. Hamlyn had never known anything like it before. The fellow's
bounce and impudence utterly deserted him.
The Archbishop spoke. His naturally rather harsh and strident voice was
rendered tenfold more penetrating and terrifying by his wrath.
"Sir," he said, in a torrent of menacing sound, "you have profaned the
Eucharist, you have mocked the holy things of God, you have made the
most sacred ordinance of our Lord a mountebank show. You boast that you
have purloined the Consecrated Bread from church, you have exhibited it.
Restore it to me, wretched man that you are. By the authority of God, I
demand you to restore it; by my authority as head of the English Church,
I order you."
Hamlyn shrank from the terrible old man clothed in the power of his
great office and the majesty of his holy anger, shrank as a man shrinks
from a flame.
With shaking hands he took a bunch of keys from his pocket. He dropped
them upon the floor, unable to open the lock of the safe.
Young Hamlyn picked them up. He turned the key in the wards with a loud
click and pulled at the massive door until it slowly swung open.
Lord Huddersfield knelt down.
Hamlyn took from a shelf a little box that had held elastic bands.
The Archbishop started and flushed a deep crimson.
He took a pyx from his pocket and reverently took out the desecrated
Host from the box, placing it in the pyx.
Then, with a face that was suffused to a deep purple, he touched the
kneeling peer upon the shoulder. Lord Huddersfield rose with a deep sob
of relief.
The Archbishop looked _once_ at Hamlyn, a look the man never forgot.
Then the two visitors turned and went away as swiftly and silently as
they had come.
It was a long time before either father or son spoke a word.
At last Hamlyn cleared his throat and mouthed a sentence. It would not
come. All that Sam could catch were the words
"PROTESTANT TRUTH!"
* * * * *
_A Selection from the Catalogue of_
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Complete Catalogues sent on application
* * * * *
When It Was Dark
The Story of a Great Conspiracy
By GUY THORNE
Author of "A Lost Cause"
"The most enthralling and interest-compelling work of fiction this
reviewer has ever encountered."--_The American, Nashville._
"It is in its wonderful tonic effect upon Christianity in England that
the book is showing its most remarkable effects. It has become the theme
of hundreds of sermons, and long extracts are being printed in the
secular press as well as in the religious publications. It is known to
have been the cause of a number of revivals throughout England, and its
strange effect is increasing daily."--_N. Y. American._
THE BISHOP OF LONDON preaching at Westminster Abbey said: "I wonder if
any of my hearers have read that remarkable work of fiction 'When It Was
Dark.' The author paints in wonderful colors what would be the condition
of the world if (as in the story is supposed to be the case) a
conviction had come upon the people that the resurrection had never
occurred."
"A critical handling of current journalism, ecclesiasticalism, and
liberalism. A novel written from the inside as well as from observation;
and from the heart as well as from the head."--_Congregationalist._
* * * * *
The Scarlet Pimpernel
By Baroness Orczy
_Author of "The Emperor's Candlesticks," etc._
A dramatic romance of the French Revolution and the Émigré Nobles. The
"Scarlet Pimpernel" was the chief of a daring band of young Englishmen
leagued together to rescue members of the French nobility from the
Terrorists of France. The identity of the brilliant and resourceful
leader is sacredly guarded by his followers and eagerly sought by the
agents of the French Revolutionary Government. Scenes of intrigue,
danger, and devotion, follow close one upon another. The heroine is a
charming, fearless woman who in the end shares the honors with the
"Scarlet Pimpernel." In a stage version prepared by the author _The
Scarlet Pimpernel_ was one of the dramatic successes of the last London
season, Mr. Fred Terry and Miss Julia Neilson acting the leading rôles.
"Something distinctly out of the common, well conceived, vividly told,
and stirring from start to finish."--_London Telegraph._
* * * * *
At the Sign of The Jack o' Lantern
_By_ MYRTLE REED
Author of "Lavender and Old Lace," "The Master's Violin," etc.
A genial story of the adventures of a New York newspaper man and his
young wife, who, at the end of their honeymoon, go to an unexplored
heirloom in the shape of a peculiar old house, where many strange and
amusing things happen. There is a mystery in the house, as well as a
significant portrait of an uncanny cat. A vein of delicate humor, and a
homely philosophy runs through the story.
"Miss Reed is delightfully witty, delightfully humorous, delightfully
cynical, delightfully sane, and above all, delightfully
spontaneous."--_Philadelphia Telegraph._
* * * * *
Love Alone is Lord
_By_ F. Frankfort Moore
_Author of "The Jessamy Bride," etc._
This latest story by the author of _The Jessamy Bride_ has for its theme
the only really ideal love affair in the romantic life of Lord Byron.
The story opens during the poet's boyhood and tells of his early
devotion to his cousin, Mary Chaworth. Mr. Moore has followed history
very closely, and his descriptions of London society when Byron was the
rage are as accurate as they are dramatic. Lady Caroline Lamb figures
prominently in the story, but the heroine continues to be Byron's early
love, Mary Chaworth. His attachment for his cousin was the strongest and
most enduring of his life, and it failed of realization only by the
narrowest of chances.
_A Fascinating Romance_
End of Project Gutenberg's A Lost Cause, by Cyril Arthur Edward Ranger Gull