Lord of the World
CHAPTER V
I
Oliver had passed the days since Mabel's disappearance in anindescribable horror. He had done all that was possible: he had tracedher to the station and to Victoria, where he lost her clue; he hadcommunicated with the police, and the official answer, telling himnothing, had arrived to the effect that there was no news: and it wasnot until the Tuesday following her disappearance that Mr. Francis,hearing by chance of his trouble, informed him by telephone that he hadspoken with her on the Friday night. But there was no satisfaction to begot from him--indeed, the news was bad rather than good, for Olivercould not but be dismayed at the report of the conversation, in spite ofMr. Francis's assurances that Mrs. Brand had shown no kind ofinclination to defend the Christian cause.
Two theories gradually emerged, in his mind; either she was gone to theprotection of some unknown Catholic, or--and he grew sick at thethought--she had applied somewhere for Euthanasia as she had oncethreatened, and was now under the care of the Law; such an event wassufficiently common since the passing of the Release Act in 1998. And itwas frightful that he could not condemn it.
* * * * *
On the Tuesday evening, as he sat heavily in his room, for the hundredthtime attempting to trace out some coherent line through the maze ofintercourse he had had with his wife during these past months, his bellsuddenly rang. It was the red label of Whitehall that had made itsappearance; and for an instant his heart leaped with hope that it wasnews of her. But at the first words it sank again.
"Brand," came the sharp fairy voice, "is that you?... Yes, I amSnowford. You are wanted at once--at once, you understand. There is anextraordinary meeting of the Council at twenty o'clock. The Presidentwill be there. You understand the urgency. No time for more. Comeinstantly to my room."
* * * * *
Even this message scarcely distracted him. He, with the rest of theworld, was no longer surprised at the sudden descents of the President.He came and vanished again without warning, travelling and working withincredible energy, yet always, as it seemed, retaining his personalcalm.
It was already after nineteen; Oliver supped immediately, and aquarter-of-an-hour before the hour presented himself in Snowford's room,where half a dozen of his colleagues were assembled.
That minister came forward to meet him, with a strange excitement in hisface. He drew him aside by a button.
"See here, Brand, you are wanted to speak first--immediately after thePresident's Secretary who will open; they are coming from Paris. It isabout a new matter altogether. He has had information of the whereaboutsof the Pope.... It seems that there is one.... Oh, you will understandpresently. Oh, and by the way," he went on, looking curiously at thestrained face, "I am sorry to hear of your anxiety. Pemberton told mejust now."
Oliver lifted a hand abruptly.
"Tell me," he said. "What am I wanted to say?"
"Well, the President will have a proposal, we imagine. You know ourminds well enough. Just explain our attitude towards the Catholics."
Oliver's eyes shrank suddenly to two bright lines beneath the lids. Henodded.
Cartwright came up presently, an immense, bent old man with a face ofparchment, as befitted the Lord Chief Justice.
"By the way, Brand, what do you know of a man called Phillips? He seemsto have mentioned your name."
"He was my secretary," said Oliver slowly. "What about him?"
"I think he must be mad. He has given himself up to a magistrate,entreating to be examined at once. The magistrate has applied forinstructions. You see, the Act has scarcely begun to move yet."
"But what has he done?"
"That's the difficulty. He says he cannot deny God, neither can heaffirm Him.--He was your secretary, then?"
"Certainly. I knew he was inclined to Christianity. I had to get rid ofhim for that."
"Well, he is to be remanded for a week. Perhaps he will be able to makeup his mind."
Then the talk shifted off again. Two or three more came up, and all eyedOliver with a certain curiosity; the story was gone about that his wifehad left him. They wished to see how he took it.
At five minutes before the hour a bell rang, and the door into thecorridor was thrown open.
"Come, gentlemen," said the Prime Minister.
The Council Chamber was a long high room on the first floor; its wallsfrom floor to ceiling were lined with books. A noiseless rubber carpetwas underfoot. There were no windows; the room was lighted artificially.A long table, set round with armed chairs, ran the length of the floor,eight on either side; and the Presidential chair, raised on a dais,stood at the head.
Each man went straight to his chair in silence, and remained there,waiting.
* * * * *
The room was beautifully cool, in spite of the absence of windows, andwas a pleasant contrast to the hot evening outside through which most ofthese men had come. They, too, had wondered at the surprising weather,and had smiled at the conflict of the infallible. But they were notthinking about that now: the coming of the President was a matter whichalways silenced the most loquacious. Besides, this time, they understoodthat the affair was more serious than usual.
At one minute before the hour, again a bell sounded, four times, andceased; and at the signal each man turned instinctively to the highsliding door behind the Presidential chair. There was dead silencewithin and without: the huge Government offices were luxuriouslyprovided with sound-deadening apparatus, and not even the rolling of thevast motors within a hundred yards was able to send a vibration throughthe layers of rubber on which the walls rested. There was only one noisethat could penetrate, and that the sound of thunder. The experts were atpresent unable to exclude this.
Again the silence seemed to fall in one yet deeper veil. Then the dooropened, and a figure came swiftly through, followed by Another in blackand scarlet.