The Ball and The Cross

treet of St. Martin's Lane look as if it were paved with gold. It made the pawnbroker's half-way down it shine as if it were really that Mountain of Piety that the French p

ed seventeenth-century swords ran like an ornate railing along the front of the window; behind was a darker glimmer of old oak and old armour; and higher up hung the most extraordinary looking South Sea tools or utensils, whether designed for killing enemies or merely for cooking them, no mere white man could possibly conjecture. But the romance of the eye, which really on this rich evening, clung

nding name. For though there are no hard tests for separating the tares and the wheat of any people, one rude but efficient guide is that the nice Jew is called Moses Solomon, and the nasty Jew is called Thornton Percy. The keeper of the curiosity shop was of the Thornton Percy branch of the chosen people; he belonged to those Lost Ten Tribes whose industrious o

fancied he had seen somewhere before), was a small, sturdy fellow, with fine grey eyes, a square red tie and a square red beard, that he carried aggressively forward as if h

ring about the counter, until they found two of precisely the same length. Presumably they desired the exact symmetry for some decorative trophy. Even then they felt the

perhaps I had better pay for them at once. And as you are the chal

ke in a voice quite clear and bold, and yet somehow li

luable matter, which can only be atoned for by fighting. Unfortunately, as the police are in some sense pursuing us, we are hurried, and m

imself from a stunning

el in my garden. Go home, gentlemen, go

d voice, "about religion." The fat shopkeep

to commit murder on behalf of religion. Well, well

d fiercely, pointing towards the pawnbrok

yes," sa

ated the secularist, pointing backw

if I

My father died for it under the swords of the Yeomanry. I am going to die for it, if need be, under that sword on your counter. But if there is one sight that makes me doubt it it is your foul fat face. It is hard to believe you were not meant to

istcoat of the dealer, who stood choking with rage and fear,

of a business partner, "MacIan, tie up this fellow and put a ga

whose long, lean hands were unusually powerful, tightened some old curtain cords r

an, looking about him. "I'm afraid he'll wo

"but one of us will be

ighlander, glancing doubtfully at

ustache and fingering his sword, "let us go int

fting his sword from the co

coats, waistcoats, and boots. Evan said a short Latin prayer to himself, during which Turnbull made something of a parade of lighting a cigarette which he fl

at?" asked Turnbull. "

"all covered with the shields

ghing. "Well, we've taken the o

sword and made it whi

," said MacIan, dr

g. But it was indeed the more dreadful apathy of one who wants something and will care for nothing else. And this was seen suddenly; for the instant Evan engaged he disengaged and lunged with an infernal violence. His opponent with a desperate promptitude parried and riposted; the parry only just succeeded, the riposte failed. Something big and unbearable seemed to have broken finally out of Evan in that first murderous lunge, leaving him lighter

?" asked Eva

being dragged along a littered floor

d he's crawling about," said Turnbull. "Be qui

d the actual possibility of defeat and pulled himself together under a shock of the sanity of anger. He narrowed, and, so to speak, tightened his operations: he fenced (as the swordsman's boast goes), in a wedding ring; he turned Turnbull's thrusts with a maddening and almost mechanical click, like that of a machine. Whenever Turnbull's sword sought to go over that other mere white streak it seemed to be caught in a complex network of steel. He turned one thru

nbull. "One may be ki

ome other stir or scurry. And Evan, in the very act of thrusting at Turnbull, saw something in his eyes that made him drop his sword. The atheist, with his grey eyes at their widest

ruptly. "And there isn't a damned

on; and tucking his sword under his other arm, went wildly at the wall at the bottom of the garden and swung himself over it. Three seconds after he

cles going by, and could even see an individual hansom cab passing the corner at the instant. Turnbull put his fingers to his mouth like a

aw his fares, however, two wild-haired men in their shirts and socks with naked swords under

spered Turnbull, and stepped ba

superb Scotch drawl of indifference and assurance

ut I'd like to know it was all right.

n the other side of the wall, saying: "I suppose I'd

tion, "if ye're really verra anxious to ken whar a' come fra', I'll tell ye as a verra great

t. He had struggled wildly into his coat (leaving his waistcoat on the pavement), and he was with a fierce pale face climbing up the cab behind the cabman. MacIan had

g of the obstinate solemnity of a drunkard, "open t

ove the garden wall. The cabman did not see

Turnbull tore him out of his seat and hurled him i

lver voice, that the other obeyed like a

above the wall, Turnbull struck the horse with a terrible cu

happened. Then, in the neighbourhood of Maida Vale, the driver opened the trap and t

he said shortl

" replied his

ction. Our present position, Mr. MacIan, I imagine that I am under no special necessity of describing. We have broken the law and we are fleeing from its officers. Our future action is a thing about which I myself entertain sufficiently strong views; but I have no right to assume or

ry face back upon the cushions in ord

in London, possibly in Europe. I have been looking at all the streets as we went past, I have been looking at all the shops as we went past, I have been looking at all the churches as we went past. At first, I fel

we have found each other's reality. We must kill each other-or convert each other. I used to think all Christians were hypocrites, and I felt quite mildly towards them really. But I know you are sincere-and my soul is mad against you. In the same way you used, I suppose, to think that all atheists thought atheism woul

anything," said

iew of yours, too," said Tur

se it had, the amateur cabman chose his dizzy course through London with a strange dexterity. He did not do what would have first occurred to any ordinary outsider desiring to destroy his tracks. He did not cut into by-ways or twist his way through mean streets. His amateur common sense told him that it was precisely t

Street the singular cabm

conventional language honour is not satisfied. Our action must at least go further

the other with his

which has probably occurred to you as readily as to me. Until the actual event comes off we are practically in the position if not of comrades, at least of business partners. Until the event comes off,

All duellists should behave like gentlemen to each other. But we, by the queerness of our position, are something mu

calmly, "no more need be said."

nchley Road before

may I offer you a cigar. It

"You are very kind." And h