Then in that gloomy abode of blood and tears Heaven wrought a miracle.  One who for twenty years past had been an official became a man for full five minutes.  Light burst on him—­Nature rushed back upon her truant son and seized her long-forgotten empire.  The frost and reserve of office melted like snow in summer before the sun of religion and humanity.  How unreal and idle appeared now the twenty years gone in tape and circumlocution!  Away went his life of shadows—­his career of watery polysyllables meandering through the great desert into the Dead Sea.  He awoke from his desk and saw the corpse of an Englishman murdered by routine, and the tears of a man of God dripping upon it.

Then his soul burst its desk and his heart broke its polysyllables and its tapen bonds, and the man of office came quickly to the man of God and seized his hand with both his which shook very much, and pressed it again and again, and his eyes glistened and his voice faltered.  “This shall never be again.  How these tears honor you! but they cut me to the heart.  There! there!  I believe every word you have told me now.  Be comforted! you are not to blame! there were always villains in the world and fools like us that could not understand or believe in an apostle like you.  We are all in fault, but not you!  Be comforted!  Law and order shall be restored this very day and none of these poor creatures shall suffer violence again or wrong of any sort—­by God!”

So these two grasped hands and pledged faith and for a while at least joined hearts.  Mr. Eden thanked him with a grace and dignity all his own.  Then he said with a winning sweetness, “Go now, my dear sir, and do your duty.  Act for once upon an impulse.  At this moment you see things as you will see them when you come to die.  A light from Heaven shines on your path at this moment.  Walk by it ere the world dims it.  Go and leave me to repent the many unchristian tempers I have shown you in one short hour—­my heat and bitterness and arrogance—­in this solemn place.”

“His unchristian temper! poor soul!  There, take me to the justices, Mr. Evans, and you follow me as soon as you like.  Yes, my worthy friend, I will act upon an impulse for once—­Ugh!”

Wheeling rapidly out of the cell, as unlike his past self as a pin-wheel in a shop-drawer and ditto ignited, he met at the very door Mr. Hawes!

“You have been witnessing a sad sight, sir, and one that nobody, I assure you, deplores more than I do,” said Mr. Hawes, in a gentle and feeling tone.

Mr. Lacy answered Mr. Hawes by looking him all over from head to foot and back, then looking sternly into his eyes he turned his back on him sharp and left him standing there without a word.

CHAPTER XXVI.