She had been looking into the fire, her face in profile.  Addressed, she turned.  “Mr. Finn has your interests very deep at heart,” she answered tonelessly.

Paul jumped to his feet and laughed his fresh laugh.  It was all so comic, so incredible, so mad.  Yet none of them appeared to see any humour in the situation.  There sat Jane and Barney Bill cowering under the influence of their crazy fishmongering apostle; and there, regarding him with a world of appeal in his sorrowful eyes, sat the apostle himself, bolt upright in his chair, an odd figure with his streaked black and white hair, ascetic face and Methodistico-Tattersall raiment.  And they all seemed to expect him to obey this quaint person’s fanatical whimsy.

“It’s very kind indeed of you, Mr. Finn, to consult my interests in this manner,” said he.  “And I’m most indebted to you for your consideration.  But, as I said before, I’ve as much reason for believing God to be on my side as you have.  And I honestly believe I’m going to win this election.  So I certainly won’t withdraw.”

“I implore you to do so.  I will go on my knees and beseech you,” said Mr. Finn, with hands clasped in front of him.

Paul looked round.  “I’m afraid, Bill,” said he, “that this is getting rather painful.”

“It is painful.  It’s more than painful.  It’s horrible!  It’s ghastly!” cried Mr. Finn, in sudden shrill crescendo, leaping to his feet.  In an instant the man’s demeanour had changed.  The mournful apostle had become a wild, vibrating creature with flashing eyes and fingers.

“Easy, now, Silas.  Whoa!  Steady!” said Barney Bill.

Silas Finn advanced on Paul and clapped his hands on his shoulders and shouted hoarsely:  “For the love of God—­don’t thwart me in this.  You can’t thwart me.  You daren’t thwart me.  You daren’t thwart God.”

Paul disengaged himself impatiently.  The humour had passed from the situation.  The man was a lunatic, a religious maniac.  Again he addressed Barney Bill.  “As I can’t convince Mr. Finn of the absurdity of his request, I must ask you to do so for me.”

“Young man,” cried Silas, quivering with passion, “do not speak to God’s appointed in your vanity and your arrogance.  You—­you—­of all human beings—­”

Both Jane and Barney Bill closed round him.  Jane clutched his arm.  “Come away.  Do come away.”

“Steady now, Silas,” implored Barney Bill.  “You see it’s no use.  I told you so.  Come along.”

“Leave me alone,” shouted Finn, casting them off.  “What have I to do with you?  It is that young man there who defies God and me.”

“Mr. Finn,” said Paul, very erect, “if I have hurt your feelings I am sorry.  But I fight this election.  That’s final.  The choice no longer rests with me.  I’m the instrument of my party.  I desire to be courteous in every way, but you must see that it would be useless to prolong this discussion.”  And he moved to the door.