ate except one--he believes in the
Sacraments."

Mr. Mortemer was the only son of James Mortimer of the famous firm of
Hadley and Mortimer. His father had become rich before he married the
youngest daughter of an ancient but impoverished house, and soon after
his marriage he died. Mrs. Mortemer brought up her son to forget that
his father had been a tradesman and to remember that he was rich. In
order to dissociate herself from a partnership which now existed only in
name above the plate glass of the enormous shop in Oxford Street Mrs.
Mortemer took to spelling her name with an "e," which as she pointed out
was the original spelling. She had already gratified her romantic fancy
by calling her son Drogo. Harrow and Cambridge completed what Mrs.
Mortemer began, and if Drogo had not developed what his mother spoke of
as a "mania for religion" there is no reason to suppose that he would
not one day have been a cabinet minister. However, as it was, Mrs.
Mortemer died cherishing with her last breath a profound conviction that
her son would soon be a bishop. That he was not likely to become a
bishop was due to the fact that with all his worldliness, with all his
wealth, with all his love of wire-pulling, with all his respect for rank
he held definite opinions and was not afraid to belong to a minority
unpopular in high places. He had too a simple piety that made his church
a power in spite of fashionable weddings and exorbitant pew rents.

"The sort of thing we're trying to do here in a small way," he said to
Father Rowley at lunch, "is what the Jesuits are doing at Farm Street.
My two assistant priests are both rather brilliant young people, and I'm
always on the look out to get more young men of the right type."

"You'd better offer Lidderdale a title when he's ready to be ordained."

"Why, of course I will," said the dapper little vicar with a courteous
smile for Mark. "Do take some more claret, Father Rowley. It's rather a
specialty of ours here. We have a friend in Bordeaux who buys for us."

It was typical of Mr. Mortemer to use the plural.

"There you are, Mark Anthony. I've secured you a title."

"Mr. Mortemer is only being polite," said Mark.

"No, no, my dear boy, on the contrary I meant absolutely what I said."

He seemed worried by Mark's distrust of his sincerity, and for the rest
of lunch he laid himself out to entertain his less important guest,
talking with a slight excess of charm about the lack of vit