other was silent a moment. How, to explain the
thing! . . . Then he determined on making a clean breast of it.
This old man looked kindly and discreet. "I . . . I think it's a
lapse of memory," he said. "I've heard of such things. I . . . I
don't know where I am nor what I'm doing. Are you . . . are you
sure you're not making a mistake? Have I got any right----?"

The priest looked at him as if puzzled.

"I don't quite understand, Monsignor. What can't you remember?"

"I can't remember anything," wailed the man, suddenly broken down.
"Nothing at all. Not who I am, nor where I'm going, or where I come
from. . . . What am I? Who am I? Father, for God's sake tell me."

"Monsignor, be quiet, please. You mustn't give way. Surely----"

"I tell you I can remember nothing. . . . It's all gone. I don't
know who you are. I don't know what day it is, or what year it
is, or anything----"

He felt a hand on his arm, and his eyes met a look of a very
peculiar power and concentration. He sank back into his seat
strangely quieted and soothed.

"Now, Monsignor, listen to me. You know who I am"--(he broke
off). "I'm Father Jervis. I know about these things. I've been
through the psychological schools. You'll be all right presently,
I hope. But you must be perfectly quiet----"

"Tell me who I am," stammered the man.

"Listen then. You are Monsignor Masterman, secretary to the Cardinal.
You are going back to Westminster now, in your own car----"

"What's been going on? What was all that crowd about?"

Still the eyes were on him, compelling and penetrating.

"You have been presiding at the usual midday Saturday sermon in
Hyde Park, on behalf of the Missions to the East. Do you remember
now? No! Well, it doesn't matter in the least. That was Father
Anthony who was preaching. He was a little nervous, you noticed.
It was his first sermon in Hyde Park."

"I saw he was a friar," murmured the other.

"Oh! you recognized his habit then? There, you see; your
memory's not really gone. And . . . and what's the answer to
_Dominus vobiscum_?"

"_Et cum spiritu tuo._"

The priest smiled, and the pressure on the man's arm relaxed.

"That's excellent. It's only a partial obscurity. Why didn't you
understand me when I spoke to you in Latin then?"

"That was Latin? I thought so. But you spoke too fast; and I'm
not accustomed to speak it."

The old man looked at him with grave humour. "Not accustomed to
speak it, Monsignor! Why----"