"Yes, yes, sir, I know. But your speech the other day inspired us all.
You said exactly what was in all our hearts—that the world could not
live without worship; and that now that God was found at last——"
Oliver waved his hand. He hated even a touch of flattery.
"It is very good of you, Mr. Francis. I will certainly speak to Mr. Snowford. I understand that you offer yourselves as—as Masters of Ceremonies——?"
"Yes, sir; and sacristans. I have studied the German ritual very carefully; it is more elaborate than I had thought it. It will need a good deal of adroitness. I imagine that you will want at least a dozen Ceremoniarii in the Abbey; and a dozen more in the vestries will scarcely be too much."
Oliver nodded abruptly, looking curiously at the eager pathetic face of the man opposite him; yet it had something, too, of that mask-like priestly look that he had seen before in others like him. This was evidently a devotee.
"You are all Masons, of course?" he said.
"Why, of course, Mr. Brand."
"Very good. I will speak to Mr. Snowford to-day if I can catch him."
He glanced at the clock. There were yet three or four minutes.
"You have seen the new appointment in Rome, sir," went on Mr. Francis.
Oliver shook his head. He was not particularly interested in Rome just now.
"Cardinal Martin is dead—he died on Tuesday—and his place is already filled."
"Indeed, sir?"
