The priest bowed.  For the moment he was unable to speak.

“You will also tell the Holy Father,” went on the other, replacing, as he spoke, the things in the box, “what you have seen of our dispositions.  You will say that you saw us entirely resolute and unafraid.  We do not fear anybody, Monsignor—­not anything at all; I think you understand that by now.

“You will have a letter, of course, to take with you.  It will contain our final terms.  Because—­(and I assure you that you are the first of the outside world to hear this news)—­because we have decided to extend our patience for one more week.  We shall, during that week, in order to prove the genuineness of our intentions, make a raid upon a certain city and, we hope, destroy it. (Naturally, I shall not inform you where that city stands.) And if, at the end of that week, our former terms are not accepted, we shall carry out our promises to the full.  You may also add,” he went on more deliberately, “that our party is represented in every capital of Europe, and that these may be expected to act in the same way as that in which we have acted, as soon as the week expires.  We have no objection to telling you this:  our plans are completely made, and no precautions on your side can hinder them.  Is that clear, Monsignor?”

“Yes,” said the priest.

“You are satisfied that we mean what we say?”

“I suppose so.”

Hardy’s manner changed a little.  Up to now he had been speaking coldly and sharply, except where once or twice a slightly ironical tone had come into his voice.  Now he bent forward a little with his hands upon the table, and his tone became a trifle friendly.

“Now there are just one or two questions that the Council wish me to put to you.”

Monsignor glanced up at the circle of watching faces, and as he looked at the President, he could have sworn that a look of displeasure came over the man’s face.

“Well, our first question is this (I dare say you will not answer it; but if you will oblige us, we shall be grateful):  Can you tell us whether, when you left Rome, the Holy Father, or the European Powers, showed any signs of yielding?”

The priest drew a breath.

“I am absolutely sure,” he said quietly, “that they had no idea of yielding, and that they never will.”

“Why did they send envoys then?”

“They were willing to make other concessions.”

“What were these concessions?”

Monsignor hesitated.

“I am not an envoy; I have no power to say.”

“Do you know what they were?”

“Yes.”

“Why will you not say?  Is it not the wish of the Powers to come to terms?”

“It was their wish.”

“Do you mean that it is so no longer?”

“I cannot imagine it being their wish any longer.”

“Why?”

“Because you murdered the two envoys they sent,” said the priest, beginning suddenly to shake all over with uncontrollable nervous excitement.