The other concentrated his mind fiercely for a moment or two.
"I remember some faces—yes," he said. "And I remember some names. But I cannot remember which faces belong to which names. . . . I remember . . . I remember the name Archbishop Bourne; and . . . and a priest called Farquharson——"
"What have you been reading lately? . . . Ah! I forgot. Well; but can't you remember the Cardinal . . . Cardinal Bellairs?"
"I've never heard of him."
"Nor what he looks like?"
"I haven't a notion."
The priest again was silent.
"Look here, Monsignor," he said suddenly, "I'd better take you straight up to your rooms as soon as we arrive; and I'll have a notice put up on your confessional that you are unable to attend there to-day. You'll have the whole afternoon—after four at least—to yourself, and the rest of the evening. We needn't tell a soul until we're certain that it can't be helped, not even the Cardinal. But I'm afraid you'll have to preside at lunch to-day."
"Eh?"
"Mr. Manners is coming, you know, to consult with the Cardinal; and I think if you weren't there to entertain him——"