all roads lead to calvary-第43章

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g　genius　might　easily　establish　a　single　journal　that　would　cover　the　whole　field。〃

〃Just　all　the　difference；〃　answered　Greyson；　〃between　Pooh　Bah　as　Chancellor　of　the　Exchequer；　or　Lord　High　Admiral；　or　Chief　Executioner；　whichever　he　preferred　to　be；　and　Pooh　Bah　as　all　the　Officers　of　State　rolled　into　one。　　Pooh　Bah　may　be　a　very　able　statesman；　entitled　to　exert　his　legitimate　influence。　　But；　after　all；　his　opinion　is　only　the　opinion　of　one　old　gentleman；　with　possible　prejudices　and　preconceived　convictions。　　The　Mikadoor　the　people；　according　to　localitywould　like　to　hear　the　views　of　others　of　his　ministers。　　He　finds　that　the　Lord　Chancellor　and　the　Lord　Chief　Justice　and　the　Groom　of　the　Bedchamber　and　the　Attorney…Generalthe　whole　entire　Cabinet；　in　short；　are　unanimously　of　the　same　opinion　as　Pooh　Bah。　　He　doesn't　know　it's　only　Pooh　Bah　speaking　from　different　corners　of　the　stage。　　The　consensus　of　opinion　convinces　him。　　One　statesman；　however　eminent；　might　err　in　judgment。　　But　half　a　score　of　statesmen；　all　of　one　mind！　　One　must　accept　their　verdict。〃

Mary　smiled。　　〃But　why　shouldn't　the　good　newspaper　proprietor　hurry　up　and　become　a　multi…proprietor？〃　she　suggested。　　〃Why　don't　you　persuade　Lord　Sutcliffe　to　buy　up　three　or　four　papers；　before　they're　all　gone？〃

〃Because　I　don't　want　the　Devil　to　get　hold　of　him；〃　answered　Greyson。

〃You've　got　to　face　this　unalterable　law；〃　he　continued。　　〃That　power　derived　from　worldly　sources　can　only　be　employed　for　worldly　purposes。　　The　power　conferred　by　popularity；　by　wealth；　by　that　ability　to　make　use　of　other　men　that　we　term　organizationsooner　or　later　the　man　who　wields　that　power　becomes　the　Devil's　servant。　So　long　as　Kingship　was　merely　a　force　struggling　against　anarchy；　it　was　a　holy　weapon。　　As　it　grew　in　power　so　it　degenerated　into　an　instrument　of　tyranny。　　The　Church；　so　long　as　it　remained　a　scattered　body　of　meek；　lowly　men；　did　the　Lord's　work。　　Enthroned　at　Rome；　it　thundered　its　edicts　against　human　thought。　　The　Press　is　in　danger　of　following　precisely　the　same　history。　　When　it　wrote　in　fear　of　the　pillory　and　of　the　jail；　it　fought　for　Liberty。　　Now　it　has　become　the　Fourth　Estate；　it　fawnsas　Jack　Swinton　said　of　itat　the　feet　of　Mammon。　　My　Proprietor；　good　fellow；　allows　me　to　cultivate　my　plot　amid　the　wilderness　for　other　purposes　than　those　of　quick　returns。　　If　he　were　to　become　a　competitor　with　the　Carletons　and　the　Bloomfields；　he　would　have　to　look　upon　it　as　a　business　proposition。　　The　Devil　would　take　him　up　on　to　the　high　mountain；　and　point　out　to　him　the　kingdom　of　huge　circulations　and　vast　profits；　whispering　to　him：　　'All　this　will　I　give　thee；　if　thou　wilt　fall　down　and　worship　me。'　　I　don't　want　the　dear　good　fellow　to　be　tempted。〃

〃Is　it　impossible；　then；　to　combine　duty　and　success？〃　questioned　Joan。

〃The　combination　sometimes　happens；　by　chance；〃　admitted　Greyson。　〃But　it's　dangerous　to　seek　it。　　It　is　so　easy　to　persuade　ourselves　that　it's　our　duty　to　succeed。〃

〃But　we　must　succeed　to　be　of　use；〃　urged　Mary。　　〃Must　God's　servants　always　remain　powerless？〃

〃Powerless　to　rule。　　Powerful　only　to　serve；〃　he　answered。　〃Powerful　as　Christ　was　powerful；　not　as　Caesar　was　powerful　powerful　as　those　who　have　suffered　and　have　failed；　leaders　of　forlorn　hopespowerful　as　those　who　have　struggled　on；　despised　and　vilified；　not　as　those　of　whom　all　men　speak　wellpowerful　as　those　who　have　fought　lone　battles　and　have　died；　not　knowing　their　own　victory。　　It　is　those　that　serve；　not　those　that　rule；　shall　conquer。〃

Joan　had　never　known　him　quite　so　serious。　　Generally　there　was　a　touch　of　irony　in　his　talk；　a　suggestion　of　aloofness　that　had　often　irritated　her。

〃I　wish　you　would　always　be　yourself；　as　you　are　now；〃　she　said；　〃and　never　pose。〃

〃Do　I　pose？〃　he　asked；　raising　his　eyebrows。

〃That　shows　how　far　it　has　gone；〃　she　told　him；　〃that　you　don't　even　know　it。　　You　pretend　to　be　a　philosopher。　　But　you're　really　a　man。〃

He　laughed。　　〃It　isn't　always　a　pose；〃　he　explained。　　〃It's　some　men's　way　of　saying：　　Thy　will　be　done。〃

〃Ask　Phillips　to　come　and　see　me；〃　he　said。　　〃I　can　be　of　more　help；　if　I　know　exactly　his　views。〃

He　walked　with　her　to　the　bus。　　They　passed　a　corner　house　that　he　had　more　than　once　pointed　out　to　her。　　It　had　belonged；　years　ago；　to　a　well…known　artist；　who　had　worked　out　a　wonderful　scheme　of　decoration　in　the　drawing…room。　　A　board　was　up；　announcing　that　the　house　was　for　sale。　　A　gas　lamp；　exactly　opposite；　threw　a　flood　of　light　upon　the　huge　white　lettering。

Joan　stopped。　　〃Why；　it's　the　house　you　are　always　talking　about；〃　she　said。　　〃Are　you　thinking　of　taking　it？〃

〃I　did　go　over　it；〃　he　answered。　　〃But　it　would　be　rather　absurd　for　just　Mary　and　me。〃

She　looked　up　Phillips　at　the　House；　and　gave　him　Greyson's　message。　　He　had　just　returned　from　Folkestone；　and　was　worried。

〃She　was　so　much　better　last　week；〃　he　explained。　　〃But　it　never　lasts。〃

〃Poor　old　girl！〃　he　added。　　〃I　believe　she'd　have　been　happier　if　I'd　always　remained　plain　Bob　Phillips。〃

Joan　had　promised　to　go　down　on　the　Friday；　but　finding；　on　the　Thursday　morning；　that　it　would　be　difficult；　decided　to　run　down　that　afternoon　instead。　　She　thought　at　first　of　sending　a　wire。　But　in　Mrs。　Phillips's　state　of　health；　telegrams　were　perhaps　to　be　avoided。　　It　could　make　no　difference。　　The　front　door　of　the　little　house　was　standing　half　open。　　She　called　down　the　kitchen　stairs　to　the　landlady；　but　received　no　answer。　　The　woman　had　probably　run　out　on　some　short　errand。　　She　went　up　the　stairs　softly。　　The　bedroom　door；　she　knew；　would　be　open。　　Mrs。　Phillips　had　a　feeling　against　being　〃shut　off；〃　as　she　called　it。　　She　meant　to　tap　lightly　and　walk　straight　in；　as　usual。　　But　what　she　saw　through　the　opening　caused　her　to　pause。　　Mrs。　Phillips　was　sitting　up　in　bed　with　her　box　of　cosmetics　in　front　of　her。　　She　was　sensitive　of　anyone　seeing　her　make…up；　and　Joan；　knowing　this；　drew　back　a　step。　　But　for　some　reason；　she　couldn't　help　watching。　Mrs。　Phillips　dipped　a　brush　into　one　of　the　compartments　and　then　remained　with　it　in　her　hand；　as　if　hesitating。　　Suddenly　she　stuck　out　her　tongue　and　passed　the　brush　over　it。　　At　least；　so　it　seemed　to　Joan。　　It　was　only　a　side　view　of　Mrs。　Phillips's　face　that　she　was　obtaining；　and　she　may　have　been　mistaken。　　It　might　have　been　the　lips。　　The　woman　gave　a　little　gasp　and　sat　still　for　a　moment。　　Then；　putting　away　the　brush；　she　closed　the　box　and　slipped　it　under　the　pillow。

Joan　felt　her　knees　trembling。　　A　cold；　creeping　fear　was　taking　possession　of　her。　　Why；　she　could　not　understand。　　She　must　have　been　mistaken。　　People　don't　make…up　their　tongues。　　It　must　have　been　the　lips。　　And　even　if　notif　the　woman　had　licked　the　brush！　It　was　a　silly　trick　people　do。　　Perhaps　she　liked　the　taste。　　She　pulled　herself　together　and　tapped　at　the　door。

Mrs。　Phillips　gave　a　little　start　at　seeing　her；　but　was　glad　that　she　had　come。　　Phillips　had　not　been　down　for　two　days　and　she　had　been　feeling　lonesome。　　She　persisted　in　talking　more　than　Joan　felt　was　good　for　her。　　She　was　feeling　so　much　better；　she　explained。　　Joan　was　relieved　when　the　nurse　came　back　from　her　walk　and　insisted　on　her　lying　down。　　She　dropped　to　sleep　while　Joan　and　the　nurse　were　having　their　tea。

Joan　went　back　by　the　early　train。　　She　met　some　people　at　the　station　that　she　knew　and　travelled　up　with　them。　　That　picture　of　Mrs。　Phillips's　tongue　just　showing　beyond　the　line　of　Mrs。　Phillips's　cheek　remained　at　the　back　of　her　mind；　but　it　was　not　until　she　was　alone　in　her　own　rooms　that　she　dared　let　her　thoughts　return　to　it。

The　suggestion　that　was　forcing　itself　into　her　brain　was　monstrousunthinkable。　　That；　never　possessed　of　any　surplus　vitality；　and　suffering　from　the　added　lassitude　of　illness；　the　woman　should　have　become　indifferentwilling　to　let　a　life　that　to　her　was　full　of　fears　and　difficulties　slip　peacefully　away　from　her；　that　was　possible。　　But　that　she　should　exercise　thought　and　ingenuitythat　she　should　have　reasoned　the　thing　out　and　deliberately　laid　her　plans；　calculating　at　every　point　on　their　success；　it　was　in