He found even more to do at Imola than he had at Spoleto in the matters of reorganisation and reform, and he threw himself into the work with all the ardour of his brave energetic soul, encountering many trials, but coming victoriously through them all. Of course he made bitter enemies, for his boundless charity to the poor broke out in a blaze of indignation whenever he found that they were being oppressed or defrauded. In such cases instant retribution overtook the offender, and no amount of apparent contrition could ever obtain office for him again if it depended on the decision of the Archbishop. The secret societies, following their usual programme, had decided to “remove” Monsignor Mastai without delay. He was sitting in his study one morning when his faithful old servant, Baladelli, who had accompanied him everywhere, entered to say that a lady, who seemed in a great hurry, begged him to grant her a few minutes’ “conversation.” “Ask her to wait a little,” said the Archbishop, as he rose and went into his private chapel. Some time passed and the servant came and found his master on his knees. “Monsignor, will you not speak to that lady now?” he asked. “Tell her to wait a little longer,” was the reply. The man retreated, to return more than once; Monsignor, still on his knees, always gave the same message, and at last Baladelli, after the manner of old servants, lost his temper and exclaimed: “For goodness’ sake, come and speak with that poor woman! She has been waiting for hours.” Then the Archbishop looked around at him and said, very quietly, “I speak with the living, not with the dead.” The frightened domestic rushed into the anteroom where the petitioner had been left, and beheld a tumbled heap on the floor. Calling his fellow-servants to help him, he raised it up. The heavy veil had slipped from the face. The “lady” was a man, with a great sharp knife concealed in his feminine garments. He was stone dead. Monsignor Mastai was made a Cardinal (with the titular of the Church of St. Peter[8] and Marcellinus) on the 14th of December, 1840, to the great happiness of his mother, a widow since 1833. During her lifetime he made a point of going once or more every year to visit her at Sinigaglia in the old house where his childhood had been passed. He frequently was obliged to come to Rome on business, and so long as he was Archbishop of Spoleto, he lodged at the orphanage of Tata Giovanni on these occasions. That was no longer possible after he had been promoted to the more important See of Imola, as he was then expected to travel with a larger suite, for whom the Orphanage did not provide fitting quarters. He resented the expense of these more ostentatious journeys, complaining that the money they cost would have been better spent among his poor at Imola, but he had no choice in the matter and had to submit to custom and tradition.