Hadrian enjoyed the point. "Please bear this dogma carefully and continually in mind:--the Pope well-informed is wiser than the Pope ill-informed. Remember also that Hadrian at all times desires to know everything. At present He wishes to know what you know about His election. Briefly: the details can be given later." "Briefly, the Conclave found no Pope by the ordinary means; and committed the task to certain Cardinal-Compromissaries. These chose Your Holiness." "But why?" "Cardinal Courtleigh----" "Was he a Compromissary? How many were there?" "He was one of nine. The others were----" "Never mind their names for the moment. Now We take it that these nine cardinals are well-disposed toward Us?" "Most assuredly, Holy Father." "Good! Nine! The names please?" "Courtleigh, Grace----" "Archbishop of Baltimore. Yes?" "Saviolli----" "What is he? He formerly was nuncio or something in America, was he not? Please give the status of each." "He was Archbishop of Lepanto and Pontifical Ablegate to the United States of America. Now he is one of the curia. Then came della Volta, formerly Major-domo, also of the curia: he, by the bye, is Your Holiness's Double, according to Cardinal Courtfield." "How delicious!" Hadrian vivaciously put in. "Mundo, who led the Compromissaries, is Patriarch of Lisbon. Nefski is Archbishop of Prague, poor fellow----" "Why 'poor fellow'?" "Oh he was nearly killed by the anarchists.--Well then, Ferraio is Archbishop of Milan: Gentilotto is Prefect-General of the Society for the Propagation of the Faith, and Fiamma is Archbishop of Bologna. The two last were candidates at first, but gave it up by consenting to become Compromissaries." "These, you say, are well-disposed to Us?" "Yes, Holy Father." "A Kelt: an American: a Portugal: five Italians: and a Pole." "No, a Bohemian, Holiness." "Oh?" Hadrian directed the bishop to a writing-table. "Now, whether this be in accordance with regulations or not, We neither know nor care. Please write"--He sipped a glass of milk; and began to dictate--"'Hadrian VII.--Bishop,--Servant of the servants of God,--wills that you immediately shall come--to Him--in the Vatican Palace--at Rome. Nothing--except the gravest physical inability--or your duty to your family--if such there be--is to impede you. All Catholics--are to afford you--the comfort--conveyance--and assistance--of which you may stand in need.' Please sign it with your own name and make five copies of it." The bishop, sighing for his typewriter, diligently wrote in an angular oblique almost illegible hand. Electric lights sprang up in the City. The Pope lighted candles, closed the curtains, and rolled a cigarette. Then He came and sat by the table, looking at the manuscripts--considering the huge ring on His Own index-finger. Smiling to Himself, He took a taper and a stick of sealing-wax; and produced the _Little-Peter-in-a-Boat_ at the foot of the six sheets.