He noticed that his shoes shone with gold buckles; he glanced at his breast, but no cross hung there.

He took off his biretta, nervously, lest some one should notice, and perceived that it was black with a purple tassel.

He was dressed then, it seemed, in the costume of a Domestic Prelate.

He put on his biretta again.
Then he closed his eyes and tried to think; but he could remember nothing.

There was, it seemed, no continuity anywhere.