'It is not strange. He does nothing strange.'
'You think not?'
'How can the Lord of all the earth do wrong?'
'There is something in that.' Mr. Treadman was still for a time. 'Yet He runs a great risk of wrecking His entire cause.' The lame man said nothing. 'It is necessary that the people should be told that He is coming, that their minds should be prepared. If they have authentic information of His near neighbourhood, then He will triumph at once and for always. If not--if He comes on them informally, unheralded, unannounced, then there will be a frightful peril of His cause being again dragged in the mire.'
Yet the lame man said nothing. But Mr. Treadman continued to talk, apparently careless of the fact that he had the conversation to himself.
When they came to a place where there were cross-roads, and Mr. Treadman saw which way He went, he caught the lame man by the arm.
'I thought as much! He's heading for London.'
Taking out a note-book, he began to write in it with a fountain pen, still continuing to walk and to talk.
'I know this country well. There's a telegraph-office about a mile along the road. It ought to be open by the time we get there. If it isn't, I'll rouse them up. I'll send word to some friends of mine-- men and women whose lifelong watchword has been God and His gospel-- that He is coming. They will run to meet Him. They will bring with them some of the brightest spirits now living; and He will have a foretaste of that triumph which, if matters are properly organised, awaits Him. He shall enter on His inheritance as the Christ and King, and pain, sin, sorrow, shall cease throughout the world, if He will but suffer me to make clear the way. Tell me, my friend,--you don't appear to be a loquacious soul,--don't you think that to be prepared is half the battle?'
But the lame man made no reply. He only kept his eyes fixed on the Figure which went in front.