John rose without a word, paid his bill, and left the place.
But where was he to go to? What house would receive him? If one hotel refused him, all other hotels in London would do the same. Then he remembered the shelter which he had himself established for the undeserving poor. The humiliation of that moment was terrible. But no matter! He would drink the cup of God's anger to the dregs.
The lamp was burning in the clock tower of the Houses of Parliament, and as John passed by the corner of Palace Yard two Bishops came out in earnest conversation, and walked on in front of him.
“The State and the Church are as the body and soul,” said one, “and to separate them would be death to both.”
“Just that,” said the other, “and therefore we must fight for the Church's temporal possessions as we should contend for her spiritual rights; and so these Benefice Bills——”
The shelter was at the point of closing, and Jupe was putting out the lamp over the door as John stepped up to him.
“Who is it?” said Jupe in the dark.
“Don't you know me, Jupe?” said John.
“Father Jawn Storm!” cried the man in a whisper of fear.
“I want shelter for the night, Jupe. Can you put me up anywhere?”