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.

"An army could not rescue her," he said.

"No, but one man might."

"You?" he exclaimed. He pressed down the shade of the lamp to throw the
light fully upon Wogan's face. "It is impossible!"

"Then I beg your Majesty to expect the impossible again."

The Chevalier drew his hand across his eyes and stared afresh at Wogan.
The audacity of the exploit and the imperturbable manner of its proposal
caught his breath away. He rose from his chair and took a turn or two
across the room.

Wogan watched his every gesture. It would be difficult he knew to wring
the permission he needed from his dejected master, and his unruffled
demeanour was a calculated means of persuasion. An air of confidence was
the first requisite. In reality, however, Wogan was not troubled at this
moment by any thought of failure. It was not that he had any plan in his
head; but he was fired with a conviction that somehow this chosen woman
was not to be wasted, that some day, released by some means in spite of
all the pressure English Ministers could bring upon the Emperor, she
would come riding into Bologna.