Mother and daughter looked at each other. "Who'd have expected Alaric to burst out like that? I'm sure it's very hard, after all I've gone through, to have my own children turning against me."
"I am not turning against you, mother. I think—well of course I can't see why you care for Rose: but if you do you'd be a fool to miss a chance like this. What does Mr. Sant mean about having him in his power?"
"I don't quite know. I suppose Georgie must have got himself entangled with these people somehow; and they think he wouldn't like it to come out. That's very possible. He's been mixed up with several shady characters in his time. However, we shall see. Amelia, do you know what I've been thinking? That mauve frock of my aunt Sarah's—now I believe I could make that up for myself for evenings and save a new one, you know. It's lovely silk. You can't get anything as good as that anywhere now-a-days."
"What the one with the fringe?"
"Well, isn't fringe coming in again now? I think I know how to use every bit of it. The only difficulty 'll be with the sleeves. I wish someone would invent a sleeve that only covers the lower part of one's arms. You see the best part of mine's about the shoulders."
"Why don't you simply carry the fringe over the shoulders like straps; and wear long gloves?"
"Yes, of course I might do that. And Amelia, I really must have a new transformation; all things considered I think I will go to Du Schob and Hamingill's for it this time. I'm afraid they're rather dear: but when you look what a chance this is and how much depends ... Then there's another reason why I should go. People are beginning to neglect our Wednesdays. Well now, if I go to Rome with these whats-his-names it's sure to be in the papers; and then when I come back all our old friends are sure to want to know."
So this precious pair of would-be blackmailers accompanied the deputation from the Liblab Fellowship to God's Vicegerent. Much of the formality prescribed for pontifical audiences had fallen into abeyance. Hadrian received ambassadors or personages with various degrees of ceremony: but, almost every day, He was to be found pacing to and fro in the portico of St. Peter's; and then He was accessible to all the world. When, however, the Socialists applied for an audience, it was intimated that the Supreme Pontiff would deign to receive them at ten o'clock on the following morning; and the Vatican officials were instructed that the reception would be carried out with full state. It was George Arthur Rose's birthday. For twenty years no one had cared to remember it. Now there were scores who cared; and none who dared. Hadrian was more remote than George Arthur Rose had been.
A nervous little group of twenty obvious plebeians, male and female, awaited Him in the Ducal Hall. Superb chamberlains shewed them the door by which the Pope would enter, and instructed them to approach the throne when He should have taken His seat. The great red curtains at the end of the Hall were drawn-back; and cardinals, prelates, guards and chamberlains, flowed-in like a wave whose white crest was Hadrian. As the procession passed, Sant growled to Mrs. Crowe,
"Does Himself well, don't He?"