“Then what do you suggest the Church has to gain?”
“I don’t think it matters. Perhaps there is some quarrel on between the Pope and the reigning dynasty; perhaps there has been a movement to suppress the monasteries or to expel the Jesuits—I don’t know. I haven’t been following their recent history. But you may take it from me that the Vatican has some motive for putting pressure on somebody or some party in the country, and that Don Juan is to be used as the red light.”
Alistair could not resist the conviction that Mendes was probably right. He did not feel any personal interest in the matter one way or the other, except as it affected the chance of his being able to take part in an interesting adventure. He had, perhaps, a slight friendliness left for the Church of Rome; at all events, he would have felt no reluctance to fight its battles as long as in so doing he was fighting against the social system for which Mendes stood.
“Even if you are right,” he urged as a last appeal, “I don’t see what difference it need make to you, as long as the expedition takes place.”
“I cannot be sure that it will take place.” The Brazilian paused a moment, and then added gravely: “You know that I am a Jew.”
Alistair looked at him inquiringly.
“I am not disposed to let myself be used as a puppet by the friends of Monsieur des Louvres. We have seen rather too much lately of the true feeling of the Roman Church towards our race. The Dreyfus case has been a revelation of more things than the innocence of Captain Dreyfus. We now know what treatment we have to expect from Rome if she ever does regain power, and no penny of my money shall ever be given to help her.”
“Rome is not so bad as Russia,” said Stuart.
“Russia’s turn is coming,” was the reply. “There is a curse on those who persecute our race.”
And Alistair shivered again.