"I'm keen for my work. I haven't time, like you, to stand here all day."

All this time he had been looking at the paper. "What I've read so far,
you see, is what I've told you before as having happened to my knowledge
at a place called Turrifs Station."

"Is that all?"

"No," and he went on translating. "'Whether this man was dead or not, he
is now alive, but partially deaf and blind; and whether he has ever seen
anything of the next world or not, he has now no interest in this one,
but spends his whole time praying or preaching, living on crusts, and
walking great distances in solitary places. He has lately appeared in
the suburbs of this city' (that is Quebec) 'and seems to be a
street-preacher of no ordinary power.'"

Harkness stopped with an air of importance.

"Is that all?" asked Eliza.

He gave her another paper, in English, to read. This contained a longer
and more sensational account of the same tale, and with this difference,
that instead of giving the simple and sentimental view of the French
writer, the English journalist jeered greatly, and also stated that the
nickname Lazarus had been given in derision, and that the man, who was
either mad or an imposter, had been hooted, pelted, and even beaten in
the streets.

"Is that all?" she asked.