now
stood raced before him in confused review. Objects lost their definite
outlines and melted into the haze which rose before his straining
eyes. All things at last merged into the terrible presence of the
Papal Secretary, as he slowly rose, tall and gaunt, and with arm
extended and long, bony finger pointing to the yellow river in the
distance, said in words whose cruel suggestion scorched the raw soul
of the suffering priest:

"My son, be advised: the Tiber covers many sins."

Then pitying oblivion opened wide her arms, and the tired priest sank
gently into them.

CHAPTER 11

Rome again lay scorching beneath a merciless summer sun. But the
energetic uncle of Jose was not thereby restrained from making another
hurried visit to the Vatican. What his mission was does not appear in
papal records; but, like the one which he found occasion to make just
prior to the ordination of his nephew, this visit was not extended to
include Jose, who throughout that enervating summer lay tossing in
delirium in the great hospital of the Santo Spirito. We may be sure,
however, that its influence upon the disposition of the priest's case
after the recent _denouement_ was not inconsiderable, and that it was
largely responsible for his presence before the Holy Father himself
when, after weeks of racking fever, wan and emaciated, and leaning
upon the arm of the confidential valet of His Holiness, the young
priest faced that august personage and heard the infallible judgment
of the Holy See upon his unfortunate conduct.

On the throne of St. Peter, in the heavily tapestried private audience
room of the great Vatican prison-palace, and guarded from intrusion by
armed soldiery and hosts of watchful ecclesiastics of all grades, sat
the Infallible Council, the Vicar-General of the humble Nazarene, the
aged leader at whose beck a hundred million faithful followers bent in
lowly genuflection. Near him stood the Papal Secretary of State and
two Cardinal-Bishops of the Administrative Congregation.

Jose dragged himself wearily before the Supreme Pontiff and bent low.

"_Benedicite_, my erring son." The soft voice of His Holiness floated
not unmusically through the tense silence of the room.

"Arise. The hand of the Lord already has been laid heavily upon you in
wholesome chastening for your part in this deplorable affair. And the
same omnipotent hand has been stretched forth to prevent the baneful
effects of your thoughtless condu