"We did nothing to disable him or to deface his coinage!" said the first.
"But we certainly had to use effectual force!" said the other.
"He is a gentleman, handsome, and of good manners?"
"He is all three! And a veritable Scot for caution! And for a soldier quite free from the prevailing laxities."
"You make me quite solicitous to see him! And you found nothing?"
"Absolutely nothing! A few purely private papers, but no despatches!"
"It is curious all the same that Count Tilly should send merely verbal messages by the mouth of a captain of musketeers to the Emperor."
"It is not likely that he had entrusted the writings to any of his troopers!" said one of the visitors.
Father Lamormain thanked them for their good intentions and the pains they had been at, then dismissed them. There was no suggestion of blame for failure. Infinite patience was the rule and practice of the order,—infinite polishing of weapons. Subordinates are not polished by rancour. Blame roughens the edge of service more often than it sharpens. The Society of Jesuits, founded by an enthusiast who was almost a fanatic, eschewed fanaticism, and provided channels for its enthusiasm of such fine workmanship as ensured that that precious fluid should reach the precise spot that was to be watered. The best that could be found in birth, the best that could be nurtured of scholarship, the best exponents of the social arts that make men charming companions for their fellows, were enrolled in the ranks after years of youthful training. Implicit faith in their leaders, implicit obedience, became not so much a part of the rule of the order as a habit of the mind. No task was too rough or too delicate but that the order could somewhere place its finger on the man to execute it. And straightway he would rise and set about it. Truly the Society of Jesus was an inspired engine which possessed powers far exceeding the knowledge of its founder and inventor.
Being by himself, the Jesuit drew from a drawer a sheet of parchment which had evidently been folded and sealed. It was in cipher, but it may be held as certain that Father Lamormain possessed the keys of all the ciphers in use among the politicians of Europe; and this was of no surprising intricacy. His secretary had unravelled it in a few minutes. He rang for him. He was a man of middle age, having the look of a recluse and a priest rather than a man of affairs.