purple throne, and finding myself close to a fellow who scattered
sawdust with both hands, made a spring to tear his mask away. But Harry
stretched out an arm.

"That will not help you," he said. "The man has no face."

"No face!"

"He once had a face, but it has perished. His was the face of these
sufferers. Look at them."

I looked from cage to cage, and now saw that indeed all these
sufferers--men and women--had but one face: the same wrung brow, the
same wistful eyes, the same lips bitten in anguish. I knew the face.
_We all know it_.

"His own Son! O devil rather than God!" I fell on my knees in the
gushing water and covered my eyes.

"Stand up, listen and look!" said Harry's voice.

"What can I see? He hides behind that curtain."

"And the curtain?"

"It shakes continually."

"_That is with His sobs_. Listen! What of the water?"

"It runs from the throne and about the floor. It washes off the blood."