quite another matter. Oliver Brand was an important personage, and his
wife therefore had significance, and Mr. Francis apologised, gave
directions that she was to come to his ante-room, and rose, sighing,
from his dummy Abbey and officials.
She seemed very quiet this evening, he thought, as he shook hands with her a minute later; she wore her veil down, so that he could not see her face very well, but her voice seemed to lack its usual vivacity.
"I am so sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Francis," she said. "I only want to ask you one or two questions."
He smiled at her encouragingly.
"Mr. Brand, no doubt——"
"No," she said, "Mr. Brand has not sent me. It is entirely my own affair. You will see my reasons presently. I will begin at once. I know I must not keep you."
It all seemed rather odd, he thought, but no doubt he would understand soon.
"First," she said, "I think you used to know Father Franklin. He became a Cardinal, didn't he?"
Mr. Francis assented, smiling.
"Do you know if he is alive?"
"No," he said. "He is dead. He was in Rome, you know, at the time of its destruction."
"Ah! You are sure?"
"Quite sure. Only one Cardinal escaped—Steinmann. He was hanged in Berlin; and the Patriarch of Jerusalem died a week or two later."
"Ah! very well. Well, now, here is a very odd question. I ask for a particular reason, which I cannot explain, but
