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 there the fiery swords keep war against the Judgment Day.'

'But I thought these things were'—Mr Hinchcliff paused—'fables—parables rather. Do you mean to tell me that there in Armenia'

The stranger answered the unfinished question with the fruit in his open hand.

'But you don't know,' said Mr Hinchcliff, 'that that is the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. The man may have had—a sort of mirage, say. Suppose'

'Look at it,' said the stranger.

It was certainly a strange-looking globe, not really an apple, Mr Hinchcliff saw, and a curious glowing golden colour, almost as though light itself was wrought into its substance. As he looked at it, he began to see more vividly the desolate valley among the mountains, the guarding swords of fire, the strange antiquities of the story he had just heard. He rubbed a knuckle into his eye. 'But'—said he.

'It has kept like that, smooth and full, three months. Longer than that it is now by some days. No drying, no withering, no decay.'

'And you yourself,' said Mr Hinchcliff, 'really believe that'

'Is the Forbidden Fruit.'

There was no mistaking the earnestness of the man's manner and his perfect sanity. 'The Fruit of Knowledge,' he said.

'Suppose it was?' said Mr Hinchliff, after a pause, still staring at it. 'But after all,' said Mr Hinchcliff, 'it's not my kind of knowledge—not the sort of knowledge. I mean, Adam and Eve have eaten it already.'

'We inherit their sins—not their knowledge,' said the stranger. 'That would make it all clear and bright again. We should see into everything, through everything, into the deepest meaning of everything'