Rudolph, for his part, sat watching and listening, surprised by a new
and curious thought.

A band of huddled converts sang once more, in squealing discords, with
an air of sad, compulsory, and diabolic sarcasm. A few "inquirers"
slouched forward, and surrounding the tall preacher, questioned him
concerning the new faith. The last, a broad, misshapen fellow with
hanging jowls, was answered sharply. He stood arguing, received another
snub, and went out bawling and threatening, with the contorted face and
clumsy flourishes of some fabulous hero on a screen.

The missionary approached smiling, but like a man who has finished the
day's work.

"That fellow--Good-evening: and welcome to our Street Chapel, Mr.
Hackh--That fellow," he glanced after the retreating figure, "he's a
lesson in perseverance, gentlemen. A merchant, well-to-do: he has a
lawsuit coming on--notorious--and tries to join us for protection.
Cheaper to buy a little belief, you know, than to pay Yamên fines.
Every night he turns up, grinning and bland. I tell him it won't do, and
out he goes, snorting like a dragon."

Rudolph's impulse came to a head.

"Dr. Earle," he stammered, "I owe you a gratitude. You spoke to these
people so--as--I do not know. But I listened, I felt--Before always are
they devils, images! And after I hear you, they are as men."

The other shook his great head like a silver mane, and laughed.