'The evening papers are full of strange stories of what took place this morning at Maida Vale. They make one think.'
'I understand,' said Sir Robert Farquharson, known in the House of Commons as 'the Member for India,' 'that the people are quite excited. Indeed, one can see for oneself that there are an unusual number of people in the streets, and that they all seem talking of the same thing. It reminds one of the waves of religious frenzy which in India temporarily drive a whole city mad.'
'We don't go quite so far as that in London, fortunately. Still, the affair is odd. Either these things have been done, or they haven't. In either case, I confess myself puzzled.'
The Archbishop looked up from his plate.
'There seems to be nothing known about the person of any sort or kind--neither who he is, nor what he is, nor whence he comes. The most favourable supposition seems to be that he is mentally deranged.'
'Suppose he were the Christ?' The Archbishop looked down; his face wore a shocked expression. The Secretary smiled; he has not hesitated to let it be known that he is in bondage to no creed. 'That would indeed be to bring religion into the sphere of practical politics.'
'Not necessarily. It was a Roman blunder which placed it there before.'
This was the Earl of Hailsham, whose fame as a diplomatist is politically great.
'You think that Christ might come and go without any official notice being taken of the matter?'
'Certainly. Why not? That might, and would, have been the case before had Pontius Pilate been a wiser and a stronger man.'