through rising shrillness into vibrant silence, to its long voyage to the north.
Further and further sank the city behind; it was a patch now: greyness on black. The sky seemed to grow more huge and all-containing as the earth relapsed into darkness; it glowed like a vast dome of wonderful glass, darkening even as it glowed; and as Percy dropped his eyes once more round the extreme edge of the car the city was but a line and a bubble—a line and a swelling—a line, and nothingness.
He drew a long breath, and went back to his friends.
II
"Tell me again," said the old Cardinal, when the two were settled down opposite to one another, and the chaplains were gone to another compartment. "Who is this man?"
"This man? He was secretary to Oliver Brand, one of our politicians. He fetched me to old Mrs. Brand's death bed, and lost his place in consequence. He is in journalism now. He is perfectly honest. No, he is not a Catholic, though he longs to be one. That is why they confided in him."
"And they?"
"I know nothing of them, except that they are a desperate set. They have enough faith to act, but not enough to be patient.... I suppose they thought this man would sympathise. But unfortunately he has a conscience, and he also sees that any attempt of this kind would be the last
