se "empty, swept and garnished," and
called his fellows to enter in.

At the end of the passage was a locked door; and Father Thomas said:
"This is the last room--let us enter." "Nay, there is no need to do
that," said Master Grimston in a kind of haste; "it leads
nowhither--it is but a room of stores." "It were a pity to leave it
unvisited," said the Father--and as he said the word, there came a
kind of stirring from within. "A rat, doubtless," said the Father,
striving with a sudden sense of fear; but the pale faces round him
told another tale. "Come, Master Grimston, let us be done with this,"
said Father Thomas decisively; "the hour of vespers draws nigh." So
Master Grimston slowly drew out a key and unlocked the door, and
Father Thomas marched in. It was a simple place enough. There were
shelves on which various household matters lay, boxes and jars, with
twine and cordage. On the ground stood chests. There were some clothes
hanging on pegs, and in a corner was a heap of garments, piled up. On
one of the chests stood a box of rough deal, and from the corner of it
dripped water, which lay in a little pool on the floor. Master
Grimston went hurriedly to the box and pushed it further to the wall.
As he did so, a kind of sound came from Henry's lips. Father Thomas
turned and looked at him; he stood pale and strengthless, his eyes
fixed on the corner--at the same moment something dark and shapeless
seemed to slip past the group, and there came to the nostrils of
Father Thomas a strange sharp smell, as of the sea, only that there
was a taint within it, like the smell of corruption.

They all turned and looked at Father Thomas together, as though
seeking a comfort from his presence. He, hardly knowing what he did,
and in the grasp of a terrible fear, fumbled with his book; and
opening it, read the first words that his eye fell upon, which was the
place where the Blessed Lord, beset with enemies, said that if He did
but pray to His Father, He should send Him forthwith legions of angels
to encompass Him. And the verse seemed to the priest so like a message
sent instantly from heaven that he was not a little comforted.

But the thing, whatever the reason was, appeared to them no more at
that time. Yet the thought of it lay very heavy on Father Thomas's
heart. In truth he had not in the bottom of his mind believed that he
would see it, but had trusted in his honest life and his sacred
calling to protect him. He could hardl