“Yes, yes, sir, I know. But your speech the other day inspired us all. You said exactly what was in all our hearts—that the world could not live without worship; and that now that God was found at last—-”
Oliver waved his hand. He hated even a touch of flattery.
“It is very good of you, Mr. Francis. I will certainly speak to Mr. Snowford. I understand that you offer yourselves as—as Masters of Ceremonies—?”
“Yes, sir; and sacristans. I have studied the German ritual very carefully; it is more elaborate than I had thought it. It will need a good deal of adroitness. I imagine that you will want at least a dozen Ceremoniarii in the Abbey; and a dozen more in the vestries will scarcely be too much.”
Oliver nodded abruptly, looking curiously at the eager pathetic face of the man opposite him; yet it had something, too, of that mask-like priestly look that he had seen before in others like him. This was evidently a devotee.
“You are all Masons, of course?” he said.
“Why, of course, Mr. Brand.”
“Very good. I will speak to Mr. Snowford to-day if I can catch him.”
He glanced at the clock. There were yet three or four minutes.
“You have seen the new appointment in Rome, sir,” went on Mr. Francis.