"Quite right," he said. "Now please sit here quietly, Monsignor,
till I come back."



(III)

He sat in perfect silence, waiting, leaning back in his corner
with closed eyes, compelling himself to keep his composure.

It was, at any rate, good luck that he had fallen in with such a
friend as this--Father Jervis, was it not?--who knew all about
him, and, obviously, could be trusted to be discreet. He must
just attend to his instructions quietly then, and do what he was
told. No doubt things would come back soon. But how very curious
this all was about Hyde Park and Westminster. He could have
sworn that England was a Protestant country, and the Church just
a tiny fragment of its population. Why, it was only recently
that Westminster Cathedral was built--was it not? But then this
was the year seventy-three . . . and . . . and he could not
remember in what year the Cathedral was built. Then again the
horror and bewilderment seized him. He gripped his knees with
his hands in an agony of consternation. He would go mad if he
could not remember. Or at least----Ah! here was Father Jervis
coming back again.

The two sat quite silent again for a moment, as the car moved off.

"Tell me," said the priest suddenly, "don't you remember faces,
or people's names?"