taking it into the Abbey themselves.... And you, Eminence?"

The old man eyed him steadily.

"My programme is yours," he said. "Eminence, have you considered the
effect in either case? If nothing happens---"

"If nothing happens we shall be accused of a fraud, of seeking to
advertise ourselves. If anything happens--well, we shall all go before
God together. Pray God it may be the second," he added passionately.

"It will be at least easier to bear," observed the old man.

"I beg your pardon, Eminence. I should not have said that."

There fell a silence between the two, in which no sound was heard but
the faint untiring vibration of the screw, and the sudden cough of a man
in the next compartment. Percy leaned his head wearily on his hand, and
stared from the window.

The earth was now dark beneath them--an immense emptiness; above, the
huge engulfing sky was still faintly luminous, and through the high
frosty mist through which they moved stars glimmered now and again, as
the car swayed and tacked across the wind.

"It will be cold among the Alps," murmured Percy. Then he broke off.
"And I have not one shred of evidence," he said; "nothing but the word
of a man."

"And you are sure?"

"I am sure."

"Eminence," said the German suddenly, staring straight into his face,
"the likeness is extraordinary."

Percy smiled listlessly. He was tired of bearing that.

"What do you make of it?" persisted the other.

"I have been asked that before," said Percy. "I have no views."

"It seems to me that God means something," murmured the German heavily,
still staring at him.

"Well, Eminence?"

"A kind of antithesis--a reverse of the medal. I do not know."

Again there was silence. A chaplain looked in through the glazed door, a
homely, blue-eyed German, and was waved away once more.

"Eminence," said the old man abruptly, "there is surely more to speak
of. Plans to be made."

Percy shook his head.

"There are no plans to be made," he said. "We know nothing but the
fact--no names--nothing. We--we are like children in a tiger's cage. And
one of us has just made a gesture in the tiger's face."

"I suppose we shall communicate with one another?"

"If we are in existence."

It was curious how Percy took the lead. He had worn his scarlet for
about three months, and his companion for twelve years; yet it was the
younger who dictated plans and arranged. He was scarcely conscious of
its strangeness, however. Ever