Stephen, checked by the crowd at the door, halted irresolutely. From under the wide falling leaf of a soft hat Cranly’s dark eyes were watching him.
―Have you signed? Stephen asked.
Cranly closed his long thinlipped mouth, communed with himself an instant and answered:
― Ego habeo.
―What is it for?
― Quod?
―What is it for?
Cranly turned his pale face to Stephen and said blandly and bitterly:
― Per pax universalis.
Stephen pointed to the Tsar’s photograph and said:
―He has the face of a besotted Christ.
The scorn and anger in his voice brought Cranly’s eyes back from a calm survey of the walls of the hall.
―Are you annoyed? he asked.
―No, answered Stephen.
―Are you in bad humour?
―No.
― Credo ut vos sanguinarius mendax estis , said Cranly, quia facies vostra monstrat ut vos in damno malo humore estis .