The earl joined them. He had just given the sacristan ten pounds, and had endeavored to treat the gift as a disinterested pourboire. He felt that he had failed; that he had overdone it, and had made himself a marked man. The sacristan followed him—voluble, eulogistic.
"Tommaso," said the cardinal, "this is the Earl of Vauxhall. He is to have every privilege, every liberty. He is to be left alone if he desires it. He is not to be bothered with attendance or suggestions. He may use a kodak; he may handle anything in the treasury. You will regard him as though he were myself."
Tommaso bowed low. The earl blushed.
Lady Nora looked at her watch.
"Five o'clock!" she exclaimed, "and Aunt Molly will be wanting her tea. The launch is at the stairs. Will you come, Bobby? And you, your eminence, will you honor me?"
"Not to-day, my lady," replied the cardinal, "but perhaps some other."
"To-morrow?" she asked.
"Yes," said the cardinal.
"Thank you," said Lady Nora; "the launch will be at the landing at half-past four."
"Is it an electrical contrivance?" asked the cardinal, with a smile.