hour's good talk before lunch; and they had spent a very earnest
thirty minutes together. First they had discussed with great care
all the persons who would be present at lunch--not more than
eight, besides themselves; the priest had given him a little plan
of the table, showing where each would sit, and had described
their personal appearance and recounted a salient fact or two
about every one. These were all priests except Mr. Manners
himself and his secretary. The rest of the time had been occupied
in information being given to the man who had lost his memory,
with regard to a few very ordinary subjects of conversation--the
extraordinary fairness of the weather; a new opera produced with
unparalleled success by a "well-known" composer of whom Monsignor
had never heard; a recent Eucharistic congress in Tokio, from
which the Cardinal had just returned; and the scheme for
redecorating the interior of Archbishop's House.

There had not been time for more; but these subjects, under the
adroit handling of Father Jervis, had proved sufficient; and up
to the preconcerted moment when Monsignor had uttered the
sentence about his study of Mr. Manners' _History of Twentieth
Century Development_ which had drawn from the author the words
recorded above, all had gone perfectly smoothly.

There had been a few minor hitches; for example, the food and the
manner of serving it and the proper method of consuming it had
furnished a bad moment or two; and once Monsignor had been
obliged to feign sudden deafness on being asked a question on a
subject of which he knew nothing by a priest whose name he had
forgotten, until Father Jervis slid in adroitly and saved him.
Yet these were quite unnoticed, it appeared, and could easily be