"What's his name?"

"Gregory the Nineteenth. He's a Frenchman. Well, the Holy Father is Temporal Ruler of the whole of Italy; but the Emperor of Austria administers it. Then France is, of course, a very small country."

"Why small?"

"Well, you know the European War of 1914 . . .?" Monsignor interrupted by a large sigh.

"Good heavens!" he said. "How I shall have to read. I'm sorry.
Go on, please."

"Well, France is a very small country, but intensely Catholic.
The Church is re-established there,--"

"Is it a monarchy too?"

"Certainly. The Orleans line came back after the war. Louis XXII is king. I was saying that the Church is re-established there, and is practically supreme. That is traceable entirely to Pius X's policy."

"Pius X! Why--"

"Yes, Monsignor?"

"I know all about that. But I thought Pius X simply ruined everything."

"So they said at the time. His policy was to draw the lines tight and to make no concessions. He drove out every half-hearted Catholic by his regulations, and the result was a small but extraordinarily pure body. The result has been that the country was re-evangelized, and has become almost a land of saints. They say that our Lady--"

"Well, go on with the other countries."

"Spain and Portugal are, of course, entirely Catholic, like France. The Monarchy was re-established in both of them in about 1935. But Germany-Germany's the weak spot."

"Well?"

"You see the Emperor isn't a Christian yet; and Socialism lingers on there with extraordinary pertinacity. Practically Berlin is the Holy City of Freemasonry. It's all organized from there-such as it is. And no one is quite comfortable about Germany. The Emperor Frederick is a perfectly sincere man, but really rather uneducated; he still holds on to some sort of materialism; and the result is--"

"I see."

"But there are hopes of his conversion. He's to be at Versailles next week; and that's a good sign."

"Well, what about America?"

"Oh! America's chiefly English; and very like England."

"You mean she isn't republican?"

"Of course not. My dear Monsignor--"

"Please go on, as I asked you. Tell me when she ceased to be republican."

"Why, I scarcely know," murmured the priest. "It must have been about 1930, I suppose. I know there was a lot of trouble before that-civil wars and so forth. But at any rate that was the end. Japan got a good deal of the Far West; but the Eastern States came in with Canada and formed the American Colonies; and the South of course became Latinized, largely through ecclesiastical influence. Well, then America asked England--"

"Stop, please. I shall get bewildered. What about the religion?"

"Well, the Empire of Mexico--"

"Eh?"

"The Empire of Mexico."

"Who's Emperor?"

"The King of Spain, Monsignor," said the priest patiently. "Well, that used to be called South America. It's all the Empire of Mexico now, and belongs to Spain. That's solidly Catholic, of course. And the American Colonies-old North America-that's like England. It's practically Catholic, of course; but there are a few infidels and Socialists."

"Australia?"

"Australia's entirely Irish, and Catholic."

"And Ireland itself?"

"Oh! Ireland developed enormously as soon as she had gained independence, but emigration continued, and the Irish strength really lies abroad. Then an odd thing happened. Ireland continued to empty, obeying some social law we don't even yet understand properly; and the Religious began to get possession of the country in an extraordinary way, until they owned all the large estates, and even most of the towns. You may say that Ireland is practically one Religious Enclosure now. Of course, she's a part of the British Empire; but her real social life lies in her colonies. Australia succeeded in getting Home Rule from Ireland about twenty-five years ago."

Monsignor pressed his hands to his head.

"It sounds like the wildest dream," he said.

"Hadn't I better--?"

"No; go on. I only want an outline. What about the East?"

"Well, old superstitions still linger on in the East, especially in China. But the end is quite certain. It is simply a matter of time--"

"But . . . but I don't understand. If the whole world is practically Christian, what is there left to do?"

The priest smiled.

"Ah! but you must remember Germany. There are great forces in Germany. It's there that the danger lies. And you must remember too that there is no Universal Arbitrator yet. Nationalism is still pretty strong. There might easily be another big European war."

"Then you hope--"

"Yes. We're all working for the recognition of the Pope as Universal Arbitrator, as he was practically in Europe in the Middle Ages. Of course, as soon as the sovereigns acknowledge officially that they hold all their rights at the will of Rome, the thing will be done. But it's not done yet, except--"

"Good God!"

"Look here, Monsignor, you've had enough," said the priest, rising. "Though I must say you have followed it closely enough. Are you certain that it is quite new to you? Don't you remember--"

"It's not only new; it's inconceivable! I understand it perfectly; but--"

"Well, you've had enough. Now what about coming to see the Cardinal? I feel sure he'll insist upon your taking a rest instantly. I feel rather guilty--"

"Stop. Tell me about languages. Why did you talk to me in
Latin this morning?"

"Ecclesiastics generally do. And so do the laity a good deal.
Europe is practically bi-lingual. Each country keeps up its
own tongue, and learns Latin as well. You must rub up your
Latin, Monsignor."

"Wait a moment. What are you going to say to the Cardinal?"

"Well, hadn't I better tell him the whole thing, just as it happened? Then you needn't explain."

The other pondered a moment.

"Thanks very much, father. . . . Stop. Do I talk English all right?"

"Perfectly."

"But--Oh well. . . . And I . . . did I do all right at lunch?
Did any one suspect anything?"

"You did perfectly. You seemed a little absent-minded once or twice; but that was quite in keeping."

The two smiled at one another pleasantly.

"Then I'll be going," said the priest. "Will you wait here till
I come for you?"

CHAPTER III

(I)

"Just be natural," whispered Father Jervis a quarter of an hour later, as they passed through the big ante-room. "You needn't explain a word. I've told him everything."

He tapped; and a voice answered.

Sitting in a big arm-chair drawn up to the writing-table, the man who had lost his memory saw a tall, thin figure, in black with scarlet buttons, and a small scarlet skull-cap crowning his iron-grey hair. It was a little hard to make out the face at first, as the window was immediately beyond it; but he saw almost immediately that, although the face smiled at him reassuringly and welcomingly, it was entirely unfamiliar.

The Cardinal stood up as the two approached, pushing back his chair, and held out both his hands.

"My dear Monsignor," he said, and grasped the other's hands firmly and kindly.

"I . . . your Eminence . . ." stammered the man.

"Now, now; not one word till I've done. I've heard everything.
Come and sit down."

He led him to a chair on the hearth-rug, placed him in it, and himself sat down in his own, facing him. The priest remained standing.

"Now, I'm going to begin with an order, on holy obedience," smiled the Cardinal. "You and Father Jervis-if the doctor approves-are to start for a little European tour by the midnight volor."

"The . . . ?"

"The volor," said the Cardinal. "It'll do you good. Father Jervis will undertake all responsibility, and you needn't worry yourself at all. I shall telegraph to Versailles in my own name, and make one or two arrangements, and a couple of my servants will attend you. You will have nothing to do but get better. You can't be spared. It'll all come perfectly right, I have no manner of doubt. Father Jervis, just ask the doctor to step here."

The Cardinal talked a minute or two longer, still with that soothing, peaceful air; and Monsignor, as he listened, watched the priest go up to a row of black boxes, resembling those in his own room, and take down a shutter from one of them. He then said a rapid sentence or two in a whisper, reclosed the shutter, and came back.

"If things don't clear themselves, you will just have to learn your business over again, Monsignor," went on the Cardinal, still smiling. "Father Jervis has told me how well you did at lunch; and Mr. Manners said nothing, except that you were a very good host and a very graceful listener. So you need not fear that any one will notice. So please put out of your mind any thought that any one else will take your place here. I shall expect you back in a month or two, and not a soul will be any the wiser. I shall just let it be known that you're gone for a holiday. You have always worked hard enough, anyhow, to deserve one."

At that moment, somewhere out of the air, from the direction of the boxes on the wall, a very deferential, quiet voice uttered a few words in Latin.

The Cardinal nodded. Father Jervis went to the door and opened it, and there came through a man in a black cloak, resembling a gown, followed by a servant carrying a bag. The bag was set down, the servant went out, and the doctor came forward to kiss the Cardinal's ring.

"I want you just to examine Monsignor Masterman," said...