he prior was watching him
as a cat does a mouse.

"Will you give me a few days to consider this matter?" he asked, in
as easy a tone as he could. "Your reverence knows that changes are
not of themselves welcome to me; and my sons have made such
progress with Brother Emmanuel that I am something loath to part
with him. Also, they are at this moment going through a course of
study which none other could conclude with the same advantage.
Brother Fabian is doubtless an excellent brother of his order, but
he has scarce the same learning as Brother Emmanuel. Nevertheless,
I will well consider the change proposed, and give it all dutiful
heed. But I should like to speak with my wife anent the matter, and
learn her will. It is not a matter of pressing haste, by what I
have gathered from your words?"

"No, not one of pressing haste. Yet I would not long delay,"
answered the prior. "I may not speak too openly, but there be
reasons why I would have Brother Emmanuel beneath this roof once
more. I will leave thee one week to consider and to get the course
of study completed. At the week's end, methinks, I shall be
constrained to bid Brother Emmanuel return home. But if all be well
after a short time has sped by, he may return again to thee."

Sir Oliver was looking full at the handsome but crafty face of the
prior, and as the last words passed his lips he saw a flicker in
the eyes which made him say within his heart:

"If Brother Emmanuel once re-enters these walls, he will never
sally forth again. Mischief is meant him; of that I am convinced.
What must I do? Must I give him up to his death? And how can I save
him, even if I would?"

These thoughts were surging in his heart as he rode home. The peril
he had feared against those of his own name and race had been
averted. The payment of what was practically a heavy fine would
secure to the boys immunity from the results of their rashness; but
with the monk it was far different. What had aroused the animosity
of the fraternity, and why mischief was planned against him, Sir
Oliver could not divine; but that something had occurred to arouse
it he could not doubt.

No sooner had he reached home than he sought Brother Emmanuel in
his own bare room, and laid before him the account of what had
passed.

A strange look crossed the young monk's face.

"Then it is known!" he said simply.

"What is known?"

"That I am the author of a certain pamphlet, written some while
ago, and