George was relieved when everyone decided on the next restaurant they came to. He was tired, wondering what on earth he was getting into, and John Window disconcerted him. For one thing, Window looked innocuous enough, and George had rather expected a more wild-eyed man, even though in the dentist’s chair he’d been mild enough. But George hadn’t heard of the healing then, and knowing about it now made him expect Window to demonstrate some bizarre behavior. (Damn, he thought, anybody could say he was Christ. If Window believed it, why didn’t he do something now while George had his eye on him?)

They filed into the restaurant. The minute they sat down, they were all gripped by an air of expectancy—all but Window, who smiled amiably and said to Gregory Diggs: “I knew taking me away from the Center wouldn’t work; that they’d find us.”

“Yeah,” Diggs replied, dourly.

“Let’s decide on dinner and then talk,” Seven said, with a brisk smile, because he was uneasy himself and wanted to discover why before anything happened that he couldn’t control.

They were silent, reading their menus. The restaurant was quiet, with only a few patrons. “It’s quiet in all the local restaurants,” George said, too loudly. “Everybody’s at their cottages.”

Josephine Blithe ignored the statement, wet her lips, smiled earnestly, and said to Window, “John, do you believe you’re Christ right now?”

“John?” George muttered; grinning suddenly.

“Of course, John, no need for formality. We’re friends aren’t we, John? You remember, we’ve talked before.”

And suddenly, with Josephine’s question, the area of interest shifted to John Window. He had the floor and he knew it. He even smiled in acknowledgment. Until this point, he had been almost unreal to them, hardly a person at all. (“In a funny fashion, he seemed almost anonymous, particularly for someone causing so much fuss,” Seven told Cyprus later. And she replied, “Of course. It’s too bad you didn’t understand why, then.”)

“Verily,” John Window said, “I’m John Window who thinks he’s Christ. Or I’m Christ who thinks he’s John Window. This is a dilemma to me and, I understand, to others. I am a man of strange education; that is, what I’ve learned seems to have been taught to me someplace else. And I am quite articulate. Gregory has taught me to come out of the closet, as they say; I’ve been a closet Christ. Or a closet John Window. I’m not sure which. Does any of this answer any of your questions?” He started to eat his meal. He’d ordered fish and chips after Gregory talked him into fasting tomorrow instead.

Dr. Josephine Blithe smiled professionally. “You’re doing fine, just fine,” she said.