The Christmas Mystery

A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY THE STORY OF THREE WISE MEN
William J. Locke    

“I cannot tell how the truth may be:
I say the tale as ‘twas said to me.”  

“I heard it. I felt it. It was like the beating of wings.” Frontispiece
“I told you the place was uncanny.”

Instinctively they all knelt down. Carried with them an inalienable joy and possession into the great world.

A CHRISTMAS MYSTERY  

 Three men who had gained great fame and honour throughout the world met unexpectedly in front of the bookstall at Paddington Station. Like most of the great ones of the earth they were personally acquainted, and they exchanged surprised greetings.

Sir Angus McCurdie, the eminent physicist, scowled at the two others beneath his heavy black eyebrows.
“I’m going to a God-forsaken place in Cornwall called Trehenna,” said he. “That’s odd; so am I,” croaked Professor Biggleswade. He was a little, untidy man with round spectacles, a fringe of greyish beard and a weak, rasping voice, and he knew more of Assyriology than any man, living or dead. A flippant pupil once remarked that the Professor’s face was furnished with a Babylonic cuneiform in lieu of features.
“People called Deverill, at Foulis Castle?” asked Sir Angus. “Yes,” replied Professor Biggleswade. “How curious! I am going to the Deverills, too,” said the third man.