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Updated: May 13, 2025
As the clocks of Brompton were striking two, the six Arch-Mystics each of whom possessed rooms in a remote portion of the house lingeringly and fearfully bade him good-night, and left him alone with the Precursor in the apartments that for nearly fifty years had been kept swept and garnished in expectation of his advent.
In the sense that a personality always is dangerous. Among the six Arch-Mystics there is, to my thinking, only one man, and he interests me. He interests me, does Horatio Bale-Corphew!" The Prophet leaned forward in his chair. "I think I catch your meaning," he said. "Something of the same idea occurred to me when he rose from his seat to-night.
And to Enid's searching gaze it seemed that his face was set into unfamiliar and anxious lines; but under his black cap and red hair, his skin looked colorless and drawn. But after the first glance, her eyes were not for him; with swift apprehension they passed to the six Arch-Mystics who, walking two and two, formed the procession.
I ask not for the faith that accepts blindly; but in this most sacred Scitsym " he pointed to the white book upon the lectern "it is written that, by a certain secret Sign, the Arch-Mystics will recognize Him for whom they have waited. I call upon the Arch-Mystics to declare whether or no I bear upon my person that secret Sign!"
The Arch-Mystics are perusing the Scitsym; the Precursor is guarding the sacred threshold of the Prophet; the Prophet is presumably communing with his Soul. The routine of this evening differs in no way from the routine of any other evening except that the Precursor is rather more than usually vigilant in his watch."
Enid, amazed, bewildered, moved beyond herself, sat immovable her face pale, her great eyes fixed upon the Throne. Only the six Arch-Mystics stirred uneasily, glancing at each other with quiet, uncertain looks. Presently, as though he had marshalled his ideas for the continuation of his speech, the Prophet raised his hand.
Let me pass out of your lives!" There was a great silence; then a woman's sharp cry rang out across the chapel, as, with a savage movement, three of the Arch-Mystics sprang upon the Prophet. "Sacrilege! Sacrilege!" Bale-Corphew's voice rose loud and violent. But he had calculated without his host.
He had learned that to themselves, if not to the world these devotees were known as the Mystics; that their articles of faith were preserved in a secret book designated the Scitsym, which passed in rotation each year from one to another of the six Arch-Mystics, remaining in the care of each for two months out of the twelve.
Glancing towards the curtain that hid the entrance, she saw the figure of the Prophet move slowly into the chapel and pass up the aisle, attended by the Precursor and the Six Arch-Mystics. He moved forward with grave, dignified steps, and with a head held even higher than usual, and reaching the Sanctuary gate, passed through it without hesitation.
The congregation swayed forward, prostrating themselves upon the ground, while the Arch-Mystics gathered their wide, black robes about them and assumed attitudes of rapt contemplation. In obedience to usage, Enid also dropped upon her knees and covered her face with her hands. But though her pose was conventional, there was little place in her thoughts for either prayer or meditation.
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