Exactly. You are surprised?"

Mark was dumfounded rather than merely surprised.

"I do not, then, understand some other things," he stammered.

"Please be explicit."

"Father, I have already told you of the detective. You yourself
figured out, correctly, as it proves, a connection between his
activities and the well-dressed men in the labor camp. You yourself
saw the diplomat who was here. I now know why they are watching Miss
Atheson. They take her for a runaway grand duchess. They are
confident she is the one they have been instructed to watch. Several
things have happened within the last forty-eight hours. I am convinced
Miss Atheson is in danger; and I don't understand some things I have
myself seen, if she is really your niece."

"Will you just continue to trust me, my dear Mark?" asked Father Murray
anxiously.

"Certainly, Father."

"Then do not question me on this point. Only wait."

The men walked on in silence, both thoughtful, for five minutes. Then
all at once Mark thought of the charge the Bishop had put upon him.
Here was his chance.

"Father, one good has come out of this talk. Listen!" Mark related
the incident of his ride with the Bishop, and all that had passed.
"You see, Father," he said when the story was finished, "your
reputation will be cleared now."

Father Murray could not conceal his gratification; but he soon became
grave again.

"You are right," he said, "and I am deeply grateful to you. I knew
there was some unfortunate misunderstanding, but I never thought of
that. My old Bishop knew all the circumstances, and instructed me to
keep silence so far as others were concerned. But I thought that--"
Father Murray seemed puzzled. His mind had reverted to the seminary
days in Rome. Then his brow cleared, as though he had come to some
decision, and he spoke slowly. "For the present it is best that no
explanation be attempted. Will your trust stand the strain of such a
test, Mark?"

Mark's answer was to put out his hand. Father Murray's eyes were wet
as he took it.

Before Mark had noticed, they had arrived at the place of the tragedy.
Mark stopped and related the story of the shooting. Father Murray
stood as though petrified while he listened. His face showed the
deepest agitation. It was some minutes before he could speak.

"You are in New England, Mark. Those things are not done here."

"Father Murray, do you see the powder marks on my hand? Yes? I got