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"
"Oh, passably! I have preached to large congregations of Catholics in
the United States. In England, too. My mother was English. The Vatican
has been pleased to reward the poor labours of my tongue by the title
of Monsignor."
"My congratulations. You are rather young for a Monsignor, are you not?
We are apt to associate that distinction with snuff-boxes and gout
and--"
"Thirty-nine. It is a good age. One begins to appreciate things at
their true value. Your collar! Might I enquire--"
"Ah, my collar; the last vestige. . . . Yes, I am a bishop. Bishop of
Bampopo in Central Africa."
"You are rather young, surely, for a bishop?"
Mr. Heard smiled.
"The youngest on the list, I believe. There were not many applicants
for the place; the distance from England, the hard work, and the
climate, you know--"
"A bishop. Indeed!"
He waxed thoughtful. Probably he imagined that his companion was
telling him some traveller's tale.
"Yes," continued Mr. Heard. "I am what we call a 'Returned Empty.


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