A Galaxy Of Strangers
Page 24
Borne smacked his hands together. “Over and over the Bible brings that message. And what have our hypocritical churches talked about down through the centuries? Purgatory and indulgences and heaven and rewards after death. They have not had the inner faith that enables them to believe what the Word of God clearly tells them—that He is a Just God, and He will reward the righteous— now! But God also said, ‘Cast not away therefore your confidence, which hath great recompense of reward.’ And He said, ‘Ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise.’ At the Tabernacle of the Blessed, my brethren, we have the faith in a Just God, the inner faith. And after all these squandered centuries, the Just God is so pleased to find a community with faith and confidence that He rewards our righteousness lavishly and does not deign to test our patience. Join us, my brethren. Join us in good faith, and if you possess righteousness, it will be rewarded.”
Smith gestured with a dramatic sweep of his robes. Borne broke off and turned to him respectfully.
Smith’s soft voice sounded thunderous in that hushed room. “There is one Just God, and Alton Smith is His prophet.”
He strode toward the exit, an erect, awesome figure, and Borne and Harnon followed him.
Franklin turned angrily on Ferguson. “Haven’t you got enough to arrest him?”
“To arrest him, maybe, but we’d never get a conviction. A minister can’t be held responsible if someone puts counterfeit money in the offering. And he can’t be held responsible for spending it if his bank tells him it isn’t counterfeit.”
“We’ve got to close him down,” Franklin said. “If nothing else, he’s certainly a public nuisance. Let’s get down there right now. I’ll bring the police commissioner with me. We’ll find something to base a charge on.”
The four of them—Ferguson, Franklin, Cahill, and Jaffner— rushed away. Prockly dropped into a chair and sat there for a moment, lost in thought. “What do you think?” he asked finally.
“I don’t know what to think,” Frayne said.
“Pretty obvious, isn’t it? Those three were going to use Smith to wreck the Lottery by making it look ridiculous. The Lottery Governors found out, and they used Smith to make Franklin and his friends look ridiculous. There’ve been some pointed questions about what happens to all the Lottery money. A lot of it probably went into a nice nest egg for emergencies like this.”
“That’s possible,” Frayne agreed, “but the Governors wouldn’t have that nest egg in bills that haven’t been printed yet.”
“All they’d have to do is buy a few people at the mint.”
They faced each other doubtfully. “This doesn’t concern us,” Prockly said, after a moment’s thought. “Prockly and Brannot had a contract, and the Governors approved everything we did. All the same, I think we ought to go down there and see what happens. And I think we ought to notify the Governors. If they’re backing Smith, it’ll show them we’re on our toes. If they aren’t, they’ll certainly want to know what’s going on.”
The milling overflow of Smith’s congregation completely surrounded the Tabernacle of the Blessed, and Prockly and Frayne could not get near the place. As they stood looking helplessly at the patiently churning mass of humanity, Harnon appeared beside them. “Smith said you’d be coming,” he told them and matter-of-factly turned them over to a pair of burly attendants, who elbowed a way through the crowd for them. At the entrance, an usher greeted them by name and showed them to reserved seats. Franklin, Ferguson, and associates already were seated, along with the police commissioner. Looking about him, Frayne recognized two of the Lottery Governors. The service had begun.
Smith stood in his high pulpit, arms outstretched. They had altered the lighting, or perhaps it was Frayne’s imagination that a misty cloud of brightness encircled him. Borne’s resonant voice made timeless music of the Bible’s eternal message: Thus saith the Lord God, I will even deal with thee as thou hast done. I shall reward every man according to his works. Whatever good things any man doeth, the same shall he receive of the Lord.
And then, as Smith slowly descended to the stage, the Procession of the Blessed began. The light of the righteous rejoiceth: but the lamp of the wicked shall be put out.
The congregation eagerly pressed toward the outer aisles, where attendants were passing out the candles. Watching, Frayne felt strangely moved. A Just God-He blinked his amazement, for Franklin, Ferguson, the police commissioner, Cahill, Jaffner—even the two Lottery Governors—all of them were meekly moving in the procession, heads bowed, nursing their flickering candles as though their lives depended on keeping them lit. Frayne turned to point them out to Prockly, but Prockly already was on his way to the aisle.
Frayne took another look at Alton Smith, the luminous prophet of the Just God, and then he moved toward the aisle himself, hurrying to catch up with the procession.