table. Then he paused, seeming to remember something, and fumbled in his pocket.
"See that, father," he said, and pushed a small silver disc towards the priest. "No; when I am gone."
Percy closed the door and came back, taking up the little round object.
It was a coin, fresh from the mint. On one side was the familiar wreath with the word "fivepence" in the midst, with its Esperanto equivalent beneath, and on the other the profile of a man, with an inscription. Percy turned it to read:
"Julian Felsenburgh, la Prezidante de Uropo."
III
It was at ten o'clock on the following morning that the Cardinals were summoned to the Pope's presence to hear the allocution.
Percy, from his seat among the Consultors, watched them come in, men of every nation and temperament and age—the Italians all together, gesticulating, and flashing teeth; the Anglo-Saxons steady-faced and serious; an old French Cardinal leaning on his stick, walking with the English Benedictine. It was one of the great plain stately rooms of which the Vatican now chiefly consisted, seated length wise like a chapel. At the lower end, traversed by the gangway, were the seats of the Consultors; at the upper end, the dais with the papal throne. Three or four benches with desks before them, standing out beyond the Consul-
