An Eye Of A Man

The peculiar secret of the Thames, that singular smoky shine, at once a confusion and a transparency, was moving from its grey to its sparkling extreme as the sun climbed to the zenith over Westminster and two men crossed Westminster Bridge. One man was quite tall and the other very short; they may have been marvelously compared to the pompous clock-tower of Parliament and the humbler humped shoulders of the Abbey, for the short man was dressed in clerical attire. The tall man was officially described by private detective M. Hercus Flambeau, who was in his new offices in a new bunch of apartments overlooking the abbey entrance. The shorter person was officially described by Reverend J. Brown, who is affiliated to Camberwell, St. Francis Xavier's Church, and came from a Camberwell deathbed to view his friend's new office. In its sky-scraping altitudes, the structure was American and the oiled production of its telephone and lift equipment. The office just above Flambeau had been occupied, and the office just below it had been occupied. The two floors above and the three floor below were absolutely bare. But it had been hardly built and it had still not yet been staffed. However, the primary look at the new pinnacle of pads discovered something significantly more capturing. Save for a couple of relics of platform, the one glaring item was raised external the workplace simply above Flambeau's. It was a huge plated likeness of the natural eye, encircled with beams of gold, and occupying as much space as a few of the workplace windows. "What in heaven's name is that?" asked Father Brown, stopped. "Goodness, another religion," said Flambeau, chuckling; "one of those new religions that pardon your wrongdoings by saying you never had any. Maybe like Christian Science, I should think. The truth of the matter is that an individual calling himself Kalon (I don't have the foggiest idea what his name is, then again, actually it can't be that) has taken the level simply above me. I have two woman typewriters under me, and this energetic old fake on top. He considers himself the New Minister of Apollo, and he reveres the sun." "Let him watch out," said Father Brown. "The sun was the cruelest of the multitude of divine beings. In any case, what does that tremendous eye signify?" "As I get it's anything but, a hypothesis of theirs," addressed Flambeau, "that a man can suffer anything if his brain is very consistent.