“I’m afraid I haven’t any that would convince you, Mr. Carter, but I am fully satisfied about him.”

“Well, I’m not. He said that he was going to New York. A week has passed. He is not in New York, or if he is no one has heard anything of him. And in my opinion, it is the last we will hear, unless he turns up as a faker elsewhere. Why should he go to New York or Washington? Do you know what would happen to the real Jesus if he were to appear in those cities?”

“I think the crowds would greet him and he would receive the greatest welcome ever given to a person.”

“I don’t. If he appeared in New York, the crowd would run after him as they run after every new fad there, and then go back to their money-making. And if he appeared in Washington, the politicians and society leaders would express a mild surprise and perhaps go to hear him if he condescended to speak in a fashionable hall, and then go back to their receptions and amusements, and forget him.”

“If Jesus appears in New York or Washington, people will not forget him. Will the people of Raymond ever forget him? Why, Mr. Carter, do you realize that new history has been made here by his visit? This is a changed town due to his presence. I do not believe you understand what has happened.”

Before Carter could reply, the Associated Press editor called up. “You said you wanted the first item from New York about the person calling himself Jesus.”

“Well?”

“Here is an item.”

“Go ahead with it.”

“‘There is a rumor that the person purporting to be Jesus, who has recently startled the town of Raymond with sensational appearances, is in New York and may at any time appear before the public. So far, no definite location of him has been made. It has been rumored that he is staying with a poor family in an obscure street. All attempts to find him on the part of press representatives have failed.’”

“Is that all?”

“That’s all.”

Carter turned from the instrument and gave the message to Barnes. “You see? Nothing but rumor. It was a fake. A very good one, but a fake, Barnes.”

Barnes looked at Mr. Carter curiously. “Why are you so deeply interested in all this if it is only a fake, Mr. Carter? I have never seen you so profoundly stirred over anything.”

“I hate a sham! Christianity is a sham, built up on a tissue of lies about superstition and miracles and all that rot. I hate anyone who pretends to perpetuate all this sham like this Jesus of yours.”

“You hate him because you are afraid of him.”