Just talk to him generally.
Talk about the sermon in Hyde Park, and the Abbey.

He won't expect you to talk politics publicly." "I'll try." The car drew up as the conversation ended; and the man who had lost his memory glanced out.

To his intense relief, he recognized where he was.

It was the door of Archbishop's House, in Ambrosden Avenue; and beyond he perceived the long northern side of the Cathedral.
"I know this," he said.
"Of course you do, my dear Monsignor," said the priest reassuringly.

"Now follow me: bow to any one who salutes you; but don't speak a word." They passed in together through the door, past a couple of liveried servants who held it open, up the staircase and beyond up the further flight.