"Come, Monsignor," he said, and gave his hand to him.

So the two stood a moment longer. Then the footsteps sounded on
the boat; a shadow fell across the glass of the stern-door. The
door opened, letting in a rush of foggy air, and two men in
uniform came swiftly inside.

"Your name and your business, gentlemen?" said the foremost
shortly, in excellent English.

"I am come on behalf of the Holy Father," said the Cardinal
steadily. "My name is Cardinal Bellairs. This is my secretary,
Monsignor Masterman. He is not an envoy."

"Exactly," said the man. "That is all in order. You were seen by
our guard-boats. Will you step this way?"

A bridge had been thrown across from the raft to the racing-boat,
and the latter was now attached to an immense stage whose sides
ran down into the fog. The stage-platform was crowded with men,
some in official uniform, some in blouses; but a way was kept
clear for the visitors, and they passed across without any actual
show of hostility or resentment. Monsignor noticed but one
detail--that no salutation of any kind was given; and as they
took their seats in the lift, with the two officials close beside
them, he heard guttural conversation break out, and, he thought,
one loud laugh. The doors were latched, and the lift dropped.

The speed was so great that it would have been impossible to see