had been thrown across from the raft to the racing-boat,
and the latter was now attached to an immense stage whose sides
ran down into the fog. The stage-platform was crowded with men,
some in official uniform, some in blouses; but a way was kept
clear for the visitors, and they passed across without any actual
show of hostility or resentment. Monsignor noticed but one
detail--that no salutation of any kind was given; and as they
took their seats in the lift, with the two officials close beside
them, he heard guttural conversation break out, and, he thought,
one loud laugh. The doors were latched, and the lift dropped.

The speed was so great that it would have been impossible to see
anything of the town into which they descended, even had the fog
been absent. As it was, Monsignor saw nothing except the sudden
darkening of the air round them. Then as the speed slackened he
saw the side of some great building not twenty yards away. Then
the lift stopped and the doors were opened.

A group of men stood there, with something of an expectant air in
their stolid faces. All these were in uniform of some
description; one stood a little in advance of the rest and held a
paper in his hand.

"Cardinal Bellairs?" he said, also in English. "And
Monsignor Masterman?"

The Cardinal bowed.

"We had information from Rome last night. I understand you have a
communication from the Powers?"

"From the Holy Father, whom the European Powers have appointed to
represent them."

"It is the same thing," said the man brusquely. "The Council are
waiting to receive you. Kindly follow me."

The official who had brought them down stepped forward.

"I understand, sir, that this gentleman" (he indicated the
priest) "is not an envoy."

"Is that so?" asked the other.

"It is."

"Very good. I only have authority to introduce the envoy.
Monsignor Masterman will be good enough to follow the other
gentleman. Your Eminence, will you come with me?"

(VI)

On looking back afterwards on the whole experience, that which
stood out as most shocking in it all, to the priest's mind, was
the abominable speed with which the tragedy was accomplished. It
was merciful, perhaps, that it was so, for even the half-hour or
so which elapsed before the priest had any more news dragged
itself to an intolerable length.

He walked up and down the little furnished room--some kind of
parlour, he understood, attached to a government building seized
by the