“Further, We declare that in Our Own pontificate none shall be elevated to the Sacred College save those who have made their profession in the Order; and We shall dedicate shortly the Basilica of St. Peter and St. Paul as the central church of the Order, in which church We shall raise to the altars without any delay those happy souls who shall lay down their lives in the pursuance of their vocation.

“Of that vocation it is unnecessary to speak beyond indicating that it may be pursued under any conditions laid down by the Superiors.  As regards the novitiate, its conditions and requirements, we shall shortly issue the necessary directions.  Each diocesan superior (for it is Our hope that none will hold back) shall have all such rights as usually appertain to Religious Superiors, and shall be empowered to employ his subjects in any work that, in his opinion, shall subserve the glory of God and the salvation of souls.  It is Our Own intention to employ in Our service none except those who shall make their profession.”

He raised his eyes once more, seemingly without emotion, then he continued: 

“So far, then, We have determined.  On other matters We shall take counsel immediately; but it is Our wish that these words shall be communicated to all the world, that there may be no delay in making known what it is that Christ through His Vicar asks of all who profess the Divine Name.  We offer no rewards except those which God Himself has promised to those that love Him, and lay down their life for Him; no promise of peace, save of that which passeth understanding; no home save that which befits pilgrims and sojourners who seek a City to come; no honour save the world’s contempt; no life, save that which is hid with Christ in God.”

CHAPTER IV

I

Oliver Brand, seated in his little private room at Whitehall, was expecting a visitor.  It was already close upon ten o’clock, and at half-past he must be in the House.  He had hoped that Mr. Francis, whoever he might be, would not detain him long.  Even now, every moment was a respite, for the work had become simply prodigious during the last weeks.

But he was not reprieved for more than a minute, for the last boom from the Victoria Tower had scarcely ceased to throb when the door opened and a clerkly voice uttered the name he was expecting.

Oliver shot one quick look at the stranger, at his drooping lids and down-turned mouth, summed him up fairly and accurately in the moments during which they seated themselves, and went briskly to business.

“At twenty-five minutes past, sir, I must leave this room,” he said.  “Until then—–­” he made a little gesture.

Mr. Francis reassured him.

“Thank you, Mr. Brand—­that is ample time.  Then, if you will excuse me—–­” He groped in his breast-pocket, and drew out a long envelope.