His mind began to run over the function, and he reflected that the
entire Sacred College (with the exception of the Cardinal-Protector of
Jerusalem, detained by sickness), numbering sixty-four members, would
take part. This would mean an unique sight by and bye. Eight years
before, he remembered, after the freedom of Rome, there had been a
similar assembly; but the Cardinals at that time amounted to no more
than fifty-three all told, and four had been absent.
Then he heard voices in his ante-room, a quick step, and a loud English expostulation. That was curious, and he sat up.
Then he heard a sentence.
"His Eminence must go to vest; it is useless."
There was a sharp answer, a faint scuffle, and a snatch at the handle. This was indecent; so Percy stood up, made three strides of it to the door, and tore it open.
A man stood there, whom at first he did not recognise, pale and disordered.
"Why—" began Percy, and recoiled.
"Mr. Phillips!" he said.
The other threw out his hands.
"It is I, sir—your Eminence—this moment arrived. It is life and death. Your servant tells me——"
"Who sent you?"
"Father Blackmore."
"Good news or bad?"
The man rolled his eyes towards the servant, who still stood erect and offended a yard away; and Percy understood.
He put his hand on the other's arm, drawing him through the doorway.
