Lord Southminster himself was still a young man, who had not yet married. His grandfather had become a Catholic in the reign of Edward VII; and the whole house had reverted to the old religion under which it had been originally built, with the greatest ease and grace. The present owner was one of the rising politicians who were most determined to carry the Bill through; and he had already made for himself something of a reputation by his speeches in the Upper House. Monsignor had met him half a dozen times already, and thoroughly liked this fair-haired, clean-shaven young man who was such a devoted adherent of the Catholic cause. A little silence had fallen after old Lady Southminster and her sister had gone out, and it had been curious to notice how little had been said during dinner of the event that was proceeding in London. Half a dozen times already since they had sat down a silent man in the black gown of a secretary had slipped in with a printed slip of paper and laid it before the Marquis and then disappeared again, and it was astonishing how the conversation had ceased on the instant, as the paper was read and passed round. These messages had not been altogether reassuring. The first was timed at 8.13, London, and had been read before the clock chimed the quarter-past. It ran: "MEMBERS ARE ARRIVING AFTER DINNER. HAZELTON MOBBED IN THE SQUARE." The second, ten minutes later, ran: "FOUR TITANIC-LINE BOATS FROM GERMANY REPORTED IN SIGHT. CORDON OF POLICE-VOLORS COMPLETED." The third: "MOB REPORTED DIRECTION OF HAMPSTEAD. THE PRIME MINISTER HAS BEGUN HIS SPEECH. HOUSE FULL." The fourth, fifth, and sixth contained abstracts from the speech, and added that it was becoming increasingly difficult to hear, owing to the noise from outside. Twenty minutes had now elapsed and no further message had been received. * * * * * Monsignor looked up at the Victorian clock over the carved mantelpiece and glanced at his host. The young man's eyes met his own. "It's twenty-five past nine," said Lord Southminster. The Cardinal looked up. He had not spoken for three or four minutes, but otherwise had shown no signs of discomposure. "And the last message was just after nine?" he said. The other nodded. "What time is the division expected?" "Not before midnight. Three guns will be fired, as I said, your Eminence, as soon as the division has taken place. We shall know before my secretary will have time to cross the hall." Again there was silence. * * * * * Outside the night was quiet. The village itself lay, spread out above the beach, a hundred feet below the windows, and the only sound was the steady lap and splash of the rollers upon the shingle. The place was completely protected by the Southminster estate from any encroachment of houses, and even the station itself lay half a mile away inland.