glory of the Most High, and therefore—from the Masonic standpoint—there can be no objection to them. I move that our Lodge should declare its neutrality with respect to all these manifestations of the divine presence.”
The Senior Warden rose and said: “Brothers, I certainly don’t believe in any of this stuff, and I’ve seen nothing of it; all the same I’m in favour of standing up for religion. I don’t think that there’s anything in it, but is there any reason why we should say so? I therefore move that we secretly let it be known that we have the very best information about the whole business, and that we approve of things going on as they are.”
The Worshipful Master raised his eyes and said: “I call the attention of the brethren to the fact that the Industrial Federation has elected the Absolute as its honorary President. Further, that the M.E.C. shares, the so-called Absolute Stock, may go up still higher. In this connection I may say that a donor who wishes to remain unknown has contributed one thousand shares to the Benevolent Fund of our Lodge. The meeting will now proceed.”
The Junior Warden announced: “I beg to withdraw, so to speak, the regrettable occurrences. From the higher point of view I entirely agree. I move that we discuss the matter from the higher point of view.”
The Worshipful Master raised his eyes and said, “I have to inform you that the Grand Lodge intends to issue instructions relating to the recent occurrences. The Grand Lodge recommends the Masters to join religious circles and organize them in the Masonic sense for the instruction of apprentices in the craft. The new Temples are to be conducted in an enlightened and anticlerical spirit. It is desirable to examine the various doctrines—monism, abstinence, Fletcherism, vegetarianism, and so forth. Each circle is to be instructed in a different faith in order to test out practically which is the best for the welfare of mankind and for the glory of the Most High. These activities are obligatory on all Masters by decree of the Grand Lodge. The meeting will now proceed.”
XVIII
IN THE NIGHT EDITOR’S ROOM
The largest Catholic or popular newspaper, The People’s Friend, had not a very large editorial staff, and so at 9.30 p.m. there were only two men in the room—Kostal, the night editor (Heaven knows why night editors’ pipes have such an amazing stink), and Father Jost, who sat writing the leader for the next issue and whistling between his teeth.
At that moment Novotny, the printer, came in with the wet proofs.
“Well, how about the leader, gentlemen, the leader?” he growled. “When are we going to set it?”
Father Jost stopped humming. “Ready in a minute, Novotny,” he said quickly. “There’s just a word I can’t get. Have we already had ‘satanic machinations’?”
“The day before yesterday.”
“Aha. And has ‘treacherous onslaught’ been used too?”
“Yes, we’ve had that.”
“ ‘Knavish imposture’?”
“We ran that to-day.”
“ ‘Impious fabrication’?”
“At least six times,” said Kostal.
“That’s a pity,” sighed Father Jost. “I think we’ve been a bit too lavish with our ideas. How did you like to-day’s leader, Novotny?”
“Strong stuff,” said the printer. “But we ought to be getting on with the setting.”
“Ready in a minute,” Father Jost replied. “I think our friends in higher quarters were satisfied with this morning’s issue. You’ll see, his Lordship the Bishop will call on us. ‘Jost,’ he’ll say, ‘you let them have it properly.’ Have we used ‘maniacal ravings’?”
“Yes.”
“What a pity! We must bring up fresh guns and blaze away. ‘Jost,’ his Lordship said to me not long ago, ‘Up and at them! Everything may have its day, but we shall stand for ever and aye.’ Mr. Novotny, can’t you think of any suitable phrase?”
“Well, couldn’t you say ‘criminal narrow-mindedness’ or ‘perverse malignity’?”
“That would do splendidly,” said Father Jost, with a sigh of relief. “Where do you get all these bright ideas from, Novotny?”
“From the old files of The People’s Friend. But that leader, your Reverence.”
“You shall have it at once. Just wait a minute: ‘The criminal narrow-mindedness or perverse malignity which with the idolatries of Baal sullies the pure waters from the rock of Peter I—aha, now we shan’t be long—sullies the pure waters, rock of Peter, there we are—and sets up thereon the golden calf whose name is the Devil or the Absolute——’ ”
“Have you got the leader?” came a voice from the door of the night editor’s room.
“Laudetur Jesus Christus, my Lord Bishop,” ejaculated Father Jost.
“Have you got the leader?” repeated Bishop Linda, coming hurriedly into the room. “Who was it that wrote this morning’s leader? Heaven forgive me, what a pretty mess you’ve made with it. What idiot wrote it?”
“I . . . I did,” stammered Father Jost, retreating; “Bishop . . . Your Lordship . . . I thought . . .”
“You’ve no right to think,” roared Bishop Linda, his eyeglasses flashing at him eerily. “Here, take the thing”; and crumpling up that morning’s issue of The People’s Friend in his hand, he flung it at Jost’s feet. “I thought! Look at him, he thinks! Why didn’t you telephone? Why didn’t you ask what you were to write? And you, Kostal, how could you put it in the paper? You thought, too, did you? Novotny!”
“Yes, sir,” exclaimed the trembling printer.
“Why did you have that stuff set up in type? Did you think, too?”
“Oh, no, sir,” protested the printer. “I have to set what they send me. . . .”
“Nobody has to do anything but what I want,” Bishop Linda declared decisively. “Jost, sit down and read the drivel you put together this morning. Read it, I tell you.”
“For a long time past,” Father Jost read, in trembling tones, from his own leading article—“for a long time past the public has been disturbed by the knavish imposture . . .”
“What?”
“Knavish imposture, my lord,” groaned Father Jost. “I thought—I—I see now . . .”
“What do you see?”
“That ‘knavish imposture’ is a little too forcible.”
“So I should think. Read on!”
“. . . knavish imposture carried on with the so-called Absolute . . . by means of which the Freemasons, the Jews and other progressives are befooling the world. It has been scientifically demonstrated . . .”
“Look at Jost! Look at him!” cried Bishop Linda. “He has scientifically demonstrated something! Read on.”
“. . . scientifically demonstrated,” stammered the unfortunate Jost, “that the so-called Absolute . . . is just as impious a deception . . . as the tricks performed by mediums. . . .”
“Stop,” said the Bishop with a sudden amiability. “Take down the following leading article: ‘It has been scientifically demonstrated . . .’ Have you got that? . . . ‘demonstrated that I, Father Jost, am a jackass, a dolt and an idiot.’ . . . Have you got that?”
“Yes,” whispered Jost, utterly bewildered. “Please go on, my . . . my lord.”
“Throw that into the waste-paper basket, my son,”