“It’s twenty-five past nine,” said Lord Southminster.

The Cardinal looked up.  He had not spoken for three or four minutes, 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, your Eminence, as soon as the division has taken place.  We shall know before my secretary will have time to cross the hall.”

Again there was silence.

* * * * *

Outside the night was quiet.  The village itself lay, spread out above the beach, a hundred feet below the windows, and the only sound was the steady lap and splash of the rollers upon the shingle.  The place was completely protected by the Southminster estate from any encroachment of houses, and even the station itself 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 quiet evening dress of his class, his guild-badge worn, as the custom was, like a star on his left breast.  His face showed nothing except an air of attention; there was no excitement in it, nor even suspense.  On his right sat the Cardinal in his scarlet.  He was smiling gravely to himself, and his lips moved slightly now and then.  At this moment he was playing gently with a walnut-shell that lay on his plate.  The three others showed more signs of excitement.  Old General Hartington, who could remember being taken to London to see the festivities at the coronation of George V, was leaning back in his chair frowning. (He had been reminiscent this evening in a rather voluble manner, but had not uttered a word now for five minutes.) The chaplain had shifted round in his chair, watching the door, and the sixth man, a cousin of the host, who, Monsignor understood, held some responsible post in the Government volor service, was sitting just 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 and unlatched 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 only knows——­Well, well.”

“It will be done to-night,” said the Cardinal, still without lifting his eyes.

“Certainly, your Eminence, if nothing interferes; but how can we be 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 he went the door into the parlours opened and his mother looked in.