Jason’s countenance suddenly grew solemn and confidential. “I’ve got it here,” he whispered. “I bought it for thirty shillings from Mr. Malakite, the bookseller. He bought it at a sale from some fool who thought it was nothing.⁠ ⁠… It’s brought me all my luck.⁠ ⁠…” He lowered his voice still further, so that Wolf could scarcely hear him. “These priests look for God in the clouds, but I never do that.⁠ ⁠… I look for Him⁠ ⁠…”

“I beg your pardon?” questioned Wolf, leaning attentively forward. “You say you look for Him⁠ ⁠… ?”

There was a pause; and the expression of the man changed from extreme gravity to hobgoblinish humour.

“ In the mud! ” he shouted.