II
"Tell me again," said the old Cardinal, when the two were settled downopposite to one another, and the chaplains were gone to anothercompartment. "Who is this man?"
"This man? He was secretary to Oliver Brand, one of our politicians. Hefetched me to old Mrs. Brand's death bed, and lost his place inconsequence. He is in journalism now. He is perfectly honest. No, he isnot a Catholic, though he longs to be one. That is why they confided inhim."
"And they?"
"I know nothing of them, except that they are a desperate set. They haveenough faith to act, but not enough to be patient.... I suppose theythought this man would sympathise. But unfortunately he has aconscience, and he also sees that any attempt of this kind would be thelast straw on the back of toleration. Eminence, do you realise howviolent the feeling is against us?"
The old man shook his head lamentably.
"Do I not?" he murmured. "And my Germans are in it? Are you sure?"
"Eminence, it is a vast plot. It has been simmering for months. Therehave been meetings every week. They have kept the secret marvellously.Your Germans only delayed that the blow might be more complete. And now,to-morrow---" Percy drew back with a despairing gesture.
"And the Holy Father?"
"I went to him as soon as mass was over. He withdrew all opposition, andsent for you. It is our one chance, Eminence."
"And you think our plan will hinder it?"
"I have no idea, but I can think of nothing else. I shall go straight tothe Archbishop and tell him all. We arrive, I believe, at three o'clock,and you in Berlin about seven, I suppose, by German time. The functionis fixed for eleven. By eleven, then, we shall have done all that ispossible. The Government will know, and they will know, too, that we areinnocent in Rome. I imagine they will cause it to be announced that theCardinal-Protector and the Archbishop, with his coadjutors, will bepresent in the sacristies. They will double every guard; they willparade volors overhead--and then--well! in God's hands be the rest."
"Do you think the conspirators will attempt it?"
"I have no idea," said Percy shortly.
"I understand they have alternative plans."
"Just so. If all is clear, they intend dropping the explosive fromabove; if not, at least three men have offered to sacrifice themselvesby taking it into the Abbey themselves.... And you, Eminence?"
The old man eyed him steadily.
"My programme is yours," he said. "Eminence, have you considered theeffect in either case? If nothing happens---"
"If nothing happens we shall be accused of a fraud, of seeking toadvertise ourselves. If anything happens--well, we shall all go beforeGod together. Pray God it may be the second," he added passionately.
"It will be at least easier to bear," observed the old man.
"I beg your pardon, Eminence. I should not have said that."
There fell a silence between the two, in which no sound was heard butthe faint untiring vibration of the screw, and the sudden cough of a manin the next compartment. Percy leaned his head wearily on his hand, andstared from the window.
The earth was now dark beneath them--an immense emptiness; above, thehuge engulfing sky was still faintly luminous, and through the highfrosty mist through which they moved stars glimmered now and again, asthe car swayed and tacked across the wind.
"It will be cold among the Alps," murmured Percy. Then he broke off."And I have not one shred of evidence," he said; "nothing but the wordof a man."
"And you are sure?"
"I am sure."
"Eminence," said the German suddenly, staring straight into his face,"the likeness is extraordinary."
Percy smiled listlessly. He was tired of bearing that.
"What do you make of it?" persisted the other.
"I have been asked that before," said Percy. "I have no views."
"It seems to me that God means something," murmured the German heavily,still staring at him.
"Well, Eminence?"
"A kind of antithesis--a reverse of the medal. I do not know."
Again there was silence. A chaplain looked in through the glazed door, ahomely, blue-eyed German, and was waved away once more.
"Eminence," said the old man abruptly, "there is surely more to speakof. Plans to be made."
Percy shook his head.
"There are no plans to be made," he said. "We know nothing but thefact--no names--nothing. We--we are like children in a tiger's cage. Andone of us has just made a gesture in the tiger's face."
"I suppose we shall communicate with one another?"
"If we are in existence."
It was curious how Percy took the lead. He had worn his scarlet forabout three months, and his companion for twelve years; yet it was theyounger who dictated plans and arranged. He was scarcely conscious ofits strangeness, however. Ever since the shocking news of the morning,when a new mine had been sprung under the shaking Church, and he hadwatched the stately ceremonial, the gorgeous splendour, the dignified,tranquil movements of the Pope and his court, with a secret that burnedhis heart and brain--above all, since that quick interview in which oldplans had been reversed and a startling decision formed, and a blessinggiven and received, and a farewell looked not uttered--all done inhalf-an-hour--his whole nature had concentrated itself into one keentense force, like a coiled spring. He felt power tingling to hisfinger-tips--power and the dulness of an immense despair. Every prop hadbeen cut, every brace severed; he, the City of Rome, the CatholicChurch, the very supernatural itself, seemed to hang now on one singlething--the Finger of God. And if that failed--well, nothing would evermatter any more....
He was going now to one of two things--ignominy or death. There was nothird thing--unless, indeed, the conspirators were actually taken withtheir instruments upon them. But that was impossible. Either they wouldrefrain, knowing that God's ministers would fall with them, and in thatcase there would be the ignominy of a detected fraud, of a miserableattempt to win credit. Or they would not refrain; they would count thedeath of a Cardinal and a few bishops a cheap price to pay forrevenge--and in that case well, there was Death and Judgment. But Percyhad ceased to fear. No ignominy could be greater than that which healready bore--the ignominy of loneliness and discredit. And death couldbe nothing but sweet--it would at least be knowledge and rest. He waswilling to risk all on God.
The other, with a little gesture of apology, took out his office bookpresently, and began to read.
Percy looked at him with an immense envy. Ah! if only he were as old asthat! He could bear a year or two more of this misery, but not fiftyyears, he thought. It was an almost endless vista that (even if thingswent well) opened before him, of continual strife, self-repression,energy, misrepresentation from his enemies. The Church was sinkingfurther every day. What if this new spasm of fervour were no more thanthe dying flare of faith? How could he bear that? He would have to seethe tide of atheism rise higher and more triumphant every day;Felsenburgh had given it an impetus of whose end there was noprophesying. Never before had a single man wielded the full power ofdemocracy. Then once more he looked forward to the morrow. Oh! if itcould but end in death!... _Beati mortui qui in Domino moriuntur!_ ...
It was no good; it was cowardly to think in this fashion. After all, Godwas God--He takes up the isles as a very little thing.
Percy took out his office book, found Prime and St. Sylvester, signedhimself with the cross, and began to pray. A minute later the twochaplains slipped in once more, and sat down; and all was silent, savefor that throb of the screw, and the strange whispering rush of airoutside.