The guns had aroused even the most drowsy; and the whole population, village as well as castle, had poured into the courtyard to hear the news.
Monsignor sat and read sheet after sheet after his chief, hopelessly trying to notice and remember the principal points of the report. Everything was recorded there—the assembling of the crowds, the difficulty that the later members found in getting through into the House at all; the breakdown of the police arrangements; and the storming of the wireless station by an organized mob, many of whom had been later put under arrest.
Then there was the Prime Minister's speech, recorded word by word in the machines, and translated later, by machinery instead of by human labour, into terms of dots and dashes, themselves transmitted again over miles of country, and retranslated again by mechanical devices into these actual printed sheets that the two were reading.
The speech was given in full, down to that tremendous scene when half the House, distracted at last by the cries that grew nearer and nearer, and the messengers that appeared and reappeared from outside, had risen to its feet. And then——
The Cardinal leaned back suddenly, with a swift indrawing of his breath that was almost the first sign of emotion that he had shown.
Monsignor looked up. The last two sheets were still under the ringed hand that lay upon the table.
"Well, it's done," said the Cardinal softly, almost as if talking to himself. "But it needed his last card."
"Your Eminence?"
"The announcement as to the East," went on the other, with the same air. "I thank God it came in time."
"Your Eminence, I don't understand."