Cardinal--Cardinal Bellairs. Before that you were Rector of St.
Mary's in the West. . . . Do you remember now?"

"I remember nothing."

"You remember your ordination?"

"No. Once I remember saying Mass somewhere. I don't know where."

"Stay, we're just there." (The car wheeled in swiftly under an
archway, whisked to the left, and drew up before the cloister
door.) "Now, Monsignor, I'm going in to see the Prior myself and
give him the papers. You have them?"

"I. . . I don't know."

The priest dived forward and extracted a small despatch-box from
some unseen receptacle.

"Your keys, please, Monsignor."

The other felt wildly about his person. He saw the steady eyes of
the old priest upon him.

"You keep them in your left-hand breast pocket," said the priest
slowly and distinctly.

The man felt there, fetched out a bundle of thin, flat keys, and
handed them over helplessly. While the priest turned them over,
examining each, the other stared hopelessly out of the window,