And then Turnbull said equally coolly: "Then I'll jump out of the
car."

The unknown rose to his full height, and the expression in his
eyes seemed to be made of ironies behind ironies, as two mirrors
infinitely reflect each other. At last he said, very gravely: "Do
you think I am the devil?"

"Yes," said Turnbull, violently. "For I think the devil is a
dream, and so are you. I don't believe in you or your flying ship
or your last fight of the world. It is all a nightmare. I say as
a fact of dogma and faith that it is all a nightmare. And I will
be a martyr for my faith as much as St. Catherine, for I will
jump out of this ship and risk waking up safe in bed."

After swaying twice with the swaying vessel he dived over the
side as one dives into the sea. For some incredible moments stars
and space and planets seemed to shoot up past him as the sparks
fly upward; and yet in that sickening descent he was full of some
unnatural happiness. He could connect it with no idea except one
that half escaped him--what Evan had said of the difference
between Christ and Satan; that it was by Christ's own choice that
He descended into hell.

When he again realized anything, he was lying on his elbow on the
lawn of the lunatic asylum, and the last red of the sunset had
not yet disappeared.