(I)
It was an astounding scene in which Monsignor found himself, sixweeks later--extraordinary from the extreme quietness of it, andthe enormous importance of the issue for which they waited.
* * * * *
The Cardinal and he had gone down to Lord Southminster's houseon the coast of Kent for three or four days to wait for thefinal news, as it was wished to avoid the possibility of anydangerous excitement on the night of the division; and it wasthought that the Cardinal's absence might be of service inpreventing any formidable demonstration at Westminster. He wasto return to London, in the event of the Bill passing, on thefollowing morning.
The situation was as follows:
A completely unexpected opposition had showed itself as soon asthe Bill was announced. It was perfectly well known that thisopposition was almost entirely artificial; but it was so wellengineered that there was grave doubt whether it might not affectthe voting in the Lower House. The Upper House, it was notorious,was practically unanimous in favour of the Bill; and there hadbeen one or two unpleasant demonstrations outside the entrance tothe Second Chamber.
The opposition was artificial--that is to say, its activitieswere managed after the manner of a stage-army, and the protesterswere largely German; but the crowds were so great, and thegenuineness of their opposition, such as it was, so obvious, thatvery clear signs of wavering had become apparent, even on thepart of some of the more prominent Ministers of the Crown. Twice,also, during public appearances of the King, who was well knownas a strong advocate of the Bill, there had been considerabledisturbances amongst the crowds.
All this had come, of course, to the ears of the ecclesiasticalauthorities far more forcibly than the world outside suspected.There had been threatening letters; twice the Cardinal's carriagehad been mobbed; a dozen well-known priests had been molested inthe public streets. There had been meetings and consultations ofall kinds; there had even been a moment when it seemed as if theCardinal and the Prime Minister stood almost alone in theircomplete resolution. . . . It was not that any really responsiblepersons contemplated the abandonment of the Bill; but a party hadalmost been formed for its postponement, in the hope that whenonce the opposition had been dissolved it would be difficult toreorganize it again. On the other hand, the resolutes stood forthe assertion that just because things were really critical inGermany--(in the state of affairs that followed the Emperor'sconversion)--it was now the time for England to advance; that anyhesitation shown now would be taken as a sign of weakness, andthat the Socialists' cause would be thereby enormously advanced.
Three or four results therefore were possible, from thedetermination of the Government to push the Bill forward and topresent it for its second reading this evening. First, it mightpass triumphantly, if the leaders could succeed in inspiringtheir followers with confidence. Secondly, it might be rejected,if the panic spread; for, under the new parliamentary systemthat had succeeded fifty years ago to the old Party Government,it was impossible to reckon accurately on how members wouldultimately vote. Thirdly, it might pass with a narrow majority;and in this event, it was certain that a very long delay wouldfollow before the Upper House would have an opportunity ofhanding it on for the Royal assent. Fourthly--well, almostanything else might happen, if the crowd, assembled inParliament Square, and swelled every hour by new arrivals,showed itself predominantly hostile. . . .
Lord Southminster's house needs no description. It is probably,even to-day, as well known as any place in England: there is noguide book which does not give at least three or four pages tothe castle, as well as a few lines to the tiny historical seasidevillage beneath from which the marquisate derives its name. Andit was in the little dining-room that adjoined the hall that theman who had lost his memory found himself on this evening withhalf a dozen other men and a couple of ladies.
It was a small octagonal room, designed in one of the towers thatlooked out over the sea; panelled in painted wood and furnishedwith extreme plainness. On one side a door opened upon the threelittle parlours that were used when the party was small; at theback a lobby led into the old hall itself; on the third side wasthe door used by the servants.
Lord Southminster himself was still a young man, who had not yetmarried. His grandfather had become a Catholic in the reign ofEdward VII; and the whole house had reverted to the old religionunder which it had been originally built, with the greatest easeand grace. The present owner was one of the rising politicianswho were most determined to carry the Bill through; and he hadalready made for himself something of a reputation by hisspeeches in the Upper House. Monsignor had met him half a dozentimes already, and thoroughly liked this fair-haired,clean-shaven young man who was such a devoted adherent of theCatholic cause.
A little silence had fallen after old Lady Southminster and hersister had gone out, and it had been curious to notice howlittle had been said during dinner of the event that wasproceeding in London.
Half a dozen times already since they had sat down a silent manin the black gown of a secretary had slipped in with a printedslip of paper and laid it before the Marquis and then disappearedagain, and it was astonishing how the conversation had ceased onthe instant, as the paper was read and passed round.
These messages had not been altogether reassuring.
The first was timed at 8.13, London, and had been read before theclock chimed the quarter-past. It ran:
"MEMBERS ARE ARRIVING AFTER DINNER. HAZELTON MOBBED IN THE SQUARE."
The second, ten minutes later, ran:
"FOUR TITANIC-LINE BOATS FROM GERMANY REPORTED IN SIGHT. CORDONOF POLICE-VOLORS COMPLETED."
The third:
"MOB REPORTED DIRECTION OF HAMPSTEAD. THE PRIME MINISTER HASBEGUN HIS SPEECH. HOUSE FULL."
The fourth, fifth, and sixth contained abstracts from the speech,and added that it was becoming increasingly difficult to hear,owing to the noise from outside.
Twenty minutes had now elapsed and no further message hadbeen received.
* * * * *
Monsignor looked up at the Victorian clock over the carved mantelpieceand glanced at his host. The young man's eyes met his own.
"It's twenty-five past nine," said Lord Southminster.
The Cardinal looked up. He had not spoken for three or fourminutes, but otherwise had shown no signs of discomposure.
"And the last message was just after nine?" he said.
The other nodded.
"What time is the division expected?"
"Not before midnight. Three guns will be fired, as I said, yourEminence, as soon as the division has taken place. We shall knowbefore my secretary will have time to cross the hall."
Again there was silence.
* * * * *
Outside the night was quiet. The village itself lay, spread outabove the beach, a hundred feet below the windows, and the onlysound was the steady lap and splash of the rollers upon theshingle. The place was completely protected by the Southminsterestate from any encroachment of houses, and even the stationitself 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 quietevening dress of his class, his guild-badge worn, as the customwas, like a star on his left breast. His face showed nothingexcept an air of attention; there was no excitement in it, noreven suspense. On his right sat the Cardinal in his scarlet. Hewas smiling gravely to himself, and his lips moved slightly nowand then. At this moment he was playing gently with awalnut-shell that lay on his plate. The three others showed moresigns of excitement. Old General Hartington, who could rememberbeing taken to London to see the festivities at the coronation ofGeorge V, was leaning back in his chair frowning. (He had beenreminiscent this evening in a rather voluble manner, but had notuttered a word now for five minutes.) The chaplain had shiftedround in his chair, watching the door, and the sixth man, acousin of the host, who, Monsignor understood, held someresponsible post in the Government volor service, was s
ittingjust 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.
"Nothing--just going to have a look at the weather."
He stood there, having pulled back the curtain a little andunlatched the shutter, looking out through the glass.
Then Lord Southminster's reserve broke down.
"If it's not done to-night," he said abruptly, "God onlyknows----Well, well."
"It will be done to-night," said the Cardinal, still withoutlifting his eyes.
"Certainly, your Eminence, if nothing interferes; but how can webe sure of that? I know the Government means business."
"It's half an hour since the last message," observed the General.
Lord Southminster got up suddenly and went to the lobby-door. As hewent the door into the parlours opened and his mother looked in.
"Any more news, my son?"
"No, mother. I was just going to ask."
The old lady came forward as her son went out--a splendid oldcreature in her lace and jewels--active still and upright inspite of her years. She made a little gesture as the men offeredto move, and went and leaned by the old-fashioned openfire-place, such as her husband had put in at the restorationthroughout the house.
"Your Eminence, can you reassure us?" she said, smiling.
The Cardinal, too, smiled as he turned in his chair.
"I am confident the Bill will pass," he said. "But I do not knowyet what the price will be."
"Your Eminence means in England? Or elsewhere?" asked thechaplain abruptly.
"In England and elsewhere, father."
Old Lady Jane Morpeth appeared at this moment, and the twoladies sat down on the high oak settle that screened the firefrom the window. They showed no signs of anxiety; but Monsignorperceived that their return at all to this room just now wassignificant. Simultaneously the young man came in again, closingthe door behind him.
"Our enquiries are not answered," he said sharply. "We are tryingto get into touch with another office."
No one spoke for a minute. Even to Monsignor, who still found ithard always to understand the communication-system of the time,it was obvious that something must have happened. He knew thatSouthminster Castle had been put into wireless touch with thegreat Marconi office in Parliament Square, and that a failure tobe answered meant that something unexpected had happened. But itwas entirely impossible to conjecture for certain what thissomething might be.
"That is serious?" remarked Lady Southminster, withoutmoving a muscle.
"I suppose so," said her son, and sat down again.
Then the man who was looking out of the window turned and cameback into the room, latching the shutters and putting the curtainsinto place.
"Well, Jack?" asked the General.
"I have counted eight or nine volors," he said; "usually thereare only two at this time. I went to look for them."
"Which way?"
"Three this way and five the other."
Monsignor did not dare to ask for an interpretation. But he was awarethat the air of tenseness in the room tightened up still further.
The General got up.
"Southminster," he said, "I think I'll take a stroll outside if Imay. One might see something, you know."
"Go up to the keep, if you like. There's a covered path most ofthe way up. There's a look-out there, you know. I had one set incase the wireless failed. At any rate, they may see the rocketsfarther along the coast."
Monsignor too stood up. His restlessness increased every moment,although he scarcely knew why.
"May I come with you too?" he said. "Will your Eminence excuse me?"