above the beach, a hundred feet below the windows, and the only
sound was the steady lap and splash of the rollers upon the
shingle. The place was completely protected by the Southminster
estate from any encroachment of houses, and even the station
itself lay half a mile away inland.

Monsignor looked again at the faces of those who sat with him.
Opposite was Lord Southminster himself in the ordinary quiet
evening dress of his class, his guild-badge worn, as the custom
was, like a star on his left breast. His face showed nothing
except an air of attention; there was no excitement in it, nor
even suspense. On his right sat the Cardinal in his scarlet. He
was smiling gravely to himself, and his lips moved slightly now
and then. At this moment he was playing gently with a
walnut-shell that lay on his plate. The three others showed more
signs of excitement. Old General Hartington, who could remember
being taken to London to see the festivities at the coronation of
George V, was leaning back in his chair frowning. (He had been
reminiscent this evening in a rather voluble manner, but had not
uttered a word now for five minutes.) The chaplain had shifted
round in his chair, watching the door, and the sixth man, a
cousin of the host, who, Monsignor understood, held some
responsible post in the Government volor service, was sitting
just now with his head in his hands.

Still no one spoke.

The cousin pushed back his chair suddenly and went to the window.

"Well, Jack?" said the host.