“I remember reading,” said Mr Cunningham, “that one of Pope Leo’s poems was on the invention of the photograph—in Latin, of course.” “On the photograph!” exclaimed Mr Kernan. “Yes,” said Mr Cunningham. He also drank from his glass. “Well, you know,” said Mr M’Coy, “isn’t the photograph wonderful when you come to think of it?” “O, of course,” said Mr Power, “great minds can see things.” “As the poet says: _Great minds are very near to madness_,” said Mr Fogarty. Mr Kernan seemed to be troubled in mind. He made an effort to recall the Protestant theology on some thorny points and in the end addressed Mr Cunningham. “Tell me, Martin,” he said. “Weren’t some of the popes—of course, not our present man, or his predecessor, but some of the old popes—not exactly ... you know ... up to the knocker?” There was a silence. Mr Cunningham said: “O, of course, there were some bad lots.... But the astonishing thing is this. Not one of them, not the biggest drunkard, not the most ... out-and-out ruffian, not one of them ever preached _ex cathedra_ a word of false doctrine. Now isn’t that an astonishing thing?” “That is,” said Mr Kernan. “Yes, because when the Pope speaks _ex cathedra_,” Mr Fogarty explained, “he is infallible.” “Yes,” said Mr Cunningham. “O, I know about the infallibility of the Pope. I remember I was younger then.... Or was it that——?” Mr Fogarty interrupted. He took up the bottle and helped the others to a little more. Mr M’Coy, seeing that there was not enough to go round, pleaded that he had not finished his first measure. The others accepted under protest. The light music of whisky falling into glasses made an agreeable interlude. “What’s that you were saying, Tom?” asked Mr M’Coy. “Papal infallibility,” said Mr Cunningham, “that was the greatest scene in the whole history of the Church.” “How was that, Martin?” asked Mr Power. Mr Cunningham held up two thick fingers. “In the sacred college, you know, of cardinals and archbishops and bishops there were two men who held out against it while the others were all for it. The whole conclave except these two was unanimous. No! They wouldn’t have it!” “Ha!” said Mr M’Coy. “And they were a German cardinal by the name of Dolling ... or Dowling ... or——” “Dowling was no German, and that’s a sure five,” said Mr Power, laughing. “Well, this great German cardinal, whatever his name was, was one; and the other was John MacHale.” “What?” cried Mr Kernan. “Is it John of Tuam?” “Are you sure of that now?” asked Mr Fogarty dubiously. “I thought it was some Italian or American.” “John of Tuam,” repeated Mr Cunningham, “was the man.” He drank and the other gentlemen followed his lead. Then he resumed: