Perhaps he repented at the eleventh hour and by some means
impersonated his betrayed friend; perhaps--"
"But that _other_ body found in the blasted field of Aceldama!"
demanded the agitated Effinghame. Dr. Arn did not answer.
After a lugubrious pause, he whispered:--
"There's more to follow. You haven't heard the worst."
"What--more! I thought your damnable old Bonze died in the odour of
sanctity over there in his Yellow Kingdom."
"True. He died. But before he died he recorded a vision he had. It is
inscribed on the other side of the fan."
Effinghame's features lengthened.
"Still the same fan."
"The same. Here is what it prophesies." Reversing the clumsy fan, Arn
again read:--
Before I pass over into Nirvana I must relate what I saw in the
country of the Christians. It was not a dream. It was too real. And
yet it is to be, for it has not yet happened. The Campagna was now
become a shallow lake from the sea almost to the Sabine Mountains.
What had been Rome was a black waste spot, full of stones and
weeds.
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