Clementina

Wogan waked up in the dark and was seized with a fear that he had slept

too long. He jumped out of bed and pushed open the door of his parlour.

There was a lighted lamp in the room, and Marnier was quietly laying his

master's supper.

"At what hour?" asked Wogan.

"Ten o'clock, monsieur, at the little postern in the garden wall."

"And the time now?"

"Nine."

Wogan dressed with some ceremony, supped, and at eight minutes to ten

slipped down the stairs and out of doors. He had crushed his hat down

upon his forehead and he carried his handkerchief at his face. But the

streets were dark and few people were abroad. At a little distance to

his left he saw above the housetops a glow of light in the air which

marked the Opera-House. Wogan avoided it; he kept again to the alleys

and emerged before the Chevalier's lodging. This he passed, but a

hundred yards farther on he turned down a side street and doubled back

upon his steps along a little byway between small houses. The line of

houses, however, at one point was broken by a garden wall. Under this

wall Wogan waited until a clock struck ten, and while the clock was

still striking he heard on the other side of the wall the brushing of

footsteps amongst leaves and grass. Wogan tapped gently on a little door

in the wall. It was opened no less gently, and Edgar the secretary

admitted him, led him across the garden and up a narrow flight of stairs

into a small lighted cabinet. Two men were waiting in that room. One of

them wore the scarlet robe, an old man with white hair and a broad

bucolic face, whom Wogan knew for the Pope's Legate, Cardinal Origo. The

slender figure of the other, clad all in black but for the blue ribbon

of the Garter across his breast, brought Wogan to his knee.

Wogan held out the Pope's procuration to the Chevalier, who took it and

devoutly kissed the signature. Then he gave his hand to Wogan with a

smile of friendliness.

"You have outsped your time by two days, Mr. Wogan. That is unwise,

since it may lead us to expect again the impossible of you. But here,

alas, your speed for once brings us no profit. You have heard, no doubt.

Her Highness the Princess Clementina is held at Innspruck in prison."

Wogan rose to his feet.

"Prisons, sir," he said quietly, "have been broken before to-day. I

myself was once put to that necessity." The words took the Chevalier

completely by surprise. He leaned back in his chair and stared at Wogan.