‘You may judge of all things,’ said the Bishop, ‘by their fruits. You have seen the fruits of the New Religion: you have gone through the length and the breadth of the land, and have found whither the superstition of the Perfect Woman leads. I shall teach you the nobler Creed, the higher Faith,—that’—here his voice lowered, and his eyes were raised—‘that, my son, of the Perfect Man—the Divine Man.
‘And now,’ he went on, after a pause, ringing the bell, ‘I want to introduce to you some of your future officers and followers.’
There appeared in answer to this summons a small band of half a dozen young men. Among them, to Lord Chester’s amazement, were two friends of his own, the very last men whom he would have expected to meet. They were Algy Dunquerque, the young fellow we have already mentioned, and a certain Jack Kennion, as good a rider, cricketer, and racquet-player as any in the country. These two men in the plot? Had he been walking and living among conspirators?
The two entered, but they said nothing. Yet the look of satisfaction on their faces spoke volumes.
‘Gentlemen,’ said the Bishop, ‘I desire to present you to the Earl of Chester. In this house and among ourselves he is already what he will shortly be to the whole world—His Royal Highness the Earl of Chester, heir to the crown—nay—actual King of England. The day long dreamed of among us, my children—the day for which we have worked and planned—has arrived. Before us stands the Chief, willing and ready to lead the Cause in person.’
They bowed profoundly. Then each one advanced in turn, took his hand, and murmured words of allegiance.
The first was a tall thin young man of four-and-twenty, with eager eyes, pale face, and high narrow forehead, named Clarence Veysey. ‘If you are what we hope and pray,’ he said, looking him full in the face with searching gaze, ‘we are your servants to the death. If you are not, God help England and the Holy Faith!’
The next who stepped forward was Jack Kennion. He was a young man of his own age, of great muscular development, with square head, curly locks, and laughing eyes. He held out his hand and laughed. ‘As for me,’ he said, ‘I have no doubt as to what you are. We have waited for you a long time, but we have you at last.’
The next was Algy Dunquerque.
‘I told you,’ he said laughing, ‘that I was ready to follow you. But I did not hope or expect to be called upon so soon. Something, of course, I knew, because I am a pupil of the Bishop, and knew how long Professor Ingleby has been working upon your mind. At last, then!’ He heaved a mighty sigh of satisfaction, and then began to laugh. ‘Ho, ho! Think of the flutter among the petticoats! Think of the debates in the House! Think of the excommunications!’