“Brand,” came the sharp fairy voice, “is that you?...  Yes, I am Snowford.  You are wanted at once—­at once, you understand.  There is an extraordinary meeting of the Council at twenty o’clock.  The President will be there.  You understand the urgency.  No time for more.  Come instantly to my room.”

* * * * *

Even this message scarcely distracted him.  He, with the rest of the world, was no longer surprised at the sudden descents of the President.  He came and vanished again without warning, travelling and working with incredible energy, yet always, as it seemed, retaining his personal calm.

It was already after nineteen; Oliver supped immediately, and a quarter-of-an-hour before the hour presented himself in Snowford’s room, where half a dozen of his colleagues were assembled.

That minister came forward to meet him, with a strange excitement in his face.  He drew him aside by a button.

“See here, Brand, you are wanted to speak first—­immediately after the President’s Secretary who will open; they are coming from Paris.  It is about a new matter altogether.  He has had information of the whereabouts of the Pope....  It seems that there is one....  Oh, you will understand presently.  Oh, and by the way,” he went on, looking curiously at the strained face, “I am sorry to hear of your anxiety.  Pemberton told me just now.”

Oliver lifted a hand abruptly.

“Tell me,” he said.  “What am I wanted to say?”

“Well, the President will have a proposal, we imagine.  You know our minds well enough.  Just explain our attitude towards the Catholics.”

Oliver’s eyes shrank suddenly to two bright lines beneath the lids.  He nodded.

Cartwright came up presently, an immense, bent old man with a face of parchment, as befitted the Lord Chief Justice.

“By the way, Brand, what do you know of a man called Phillips?  He seems to have mentioned your name.”

“He was my secretary,” said Oliver slowly.  “What about him?”

“I think he must be mad.  He has given himself up to a magistrate, entreating to be examined at once.  The magistrate has applied for instructions.  You see, the Act has scarcely begun to move yet.”

“But what has he done?”

“That’s the difficulty.  He says he cannot deny God, neither can he affirm Him.—­He was your secretary, then?”

“Certainly.  I knew he was inclined to Christianity.  I had to get rid of him for that.”

“Well, he is to be remanded for a week.  Perhaps he will be able to make up his mind.”

Then the talk shifted off again.  Two or three more came up, and all eyed Oliver with a certain curiosity; the story was gone about that his wife had left him.  They wished to see how he took it.

At five minutes before the hour a bell rang, and the door into the corridor was thrown open.

“Come, gentlemen,” said the Prime Minister.