The Liblab Fellowship congratulated itself on the possession of such a Fellowshipper as Sant. His diplomacy was thought cute. Socialists hourly expected to hear that the Scarlet Unutterable, in sheer despair, had asked to be allowed to seek a refuge in their ranks. Jerry Sant sat-up all night at the Hotel Nike, in case the Pope should be moved to escape from a throne which had been made too hot for Him. In the event of such an escape, of course "His Most Reverent Lordship" would come and try and make peace with them as He had put to so much unnecessary trouble and expense. So the Liblab cut and dried his plans. He would administer the oaths to God's Vicegerent: take His entrance-fee and annual subscription in advance; and admit Him as a Fellowshipper. Then, as His senior comrade, He would order Him back to Vatican to use His popery for carrying out the schemes of Labor against Capital. Incidentally he would take the opportunity of transferring some of the pontifical capital from a man as didn't to a man as did deserve it. However, Jerry gave himself two sleepless nights for nothing. He would have been better, though perhaps not quite so comely, in bed. And then, on the third day, Mrs. Crowe rushed in, displaying a tantrum which was a blend of joy and hate and fear. "I suppose this is your work, Mr. Sant?" she said, bringing a cutting from the _Catholic Hour_ out of her chain-bag. "Imphm," Jerry grinned like an oblong gargoyle. "Oh how could you say such things about Him! I do think it shocking of you!" "Wumman, hae ye nat telled me maist o' they things yersel'?" "Yes of course. But I never thought you'd put it all in the papers." "A havena pit them a'. There's a plenty more--if He hasna had His paiks yet." "O but I'm sure He has, I expect you've simply stunned Him." "Maybe I have." "Haven't you heard from Him yet?" "A havena. A'm expecting to hear the now." "Mr. Sant if you've killed my George I'll--I don't know what I'll do: but I'll never forgive you." "Hech wumman, that won't kill Him: but it may make Him a bit sore and I'll let you know that He'll come here for His plaster." "I don't mind Him being sore. He deserves it after the way He's behaved to me. But----" "Now just you tak' yersel' away. I can't have you messing about here when Rose comes. When I'm through with Him I'll forward Him to you. So you be off with you." "Clumsy beast!" said Mrs. Crowe to herself when she stood in Two Shambles Street again. "You'd much better have left it to me to arrange. I shouldn't be surprised if Georgie did something desperate now. It 'ld be just like Him. And I believe I could have coaxed Him----" She hailed a victoria; and drove to St. Peter's Square to have another look at the window.