stir, and he took the key of the gate off the hook,
put the other keys back in their place, and turned to go.

The dog began to howl--somebody was playing music in the street--and the
open door made the wind to roar in the chimney. The Father sighed, and
John stood with a quivering heart and looked over his shoulder. But it
was only a deep human sigh uttered in sleep.

At the next moment John had returned to the corridor and closed the door
behind him. His throat was parched, his eyelids were twitching, and his
temples were beating like drums. He went gliding along like a thief, and
as he passed the picture of Christ in the darkness the wind seemed to be
crying "Judas!"

Back in the hall he dropped on to the form, for his knees could support
him no longer. Love and conscience, humanity and religion clamoured loud
in his heart and tore him in pieces. "Traitor!" cried one. "But the man's
dying!" cried another. "Judas!" "She is hovering on the brink of hell and
he may save her soul from death and damnation!" When the struggle was
over, conscience and religion were worsted, and he was more cunning than
before.

Then the clock chimed the three quarters, and he raised his head. The
streets, usually so quiet at that hour, were becoming noisy with traffic.
There were the shuffling of many feet on the hard snow and the sharp
crack of voices.

He opened the great door of the house with as little noise as possible
and stepped out into the courtyard. The bloodhound started from its
quarters and began to growl, but he silenced it with a word, and the
creature came up and licked his hand. He crossed the court with quick and
noiseless footsteps, lifted the latch of the sacristy and pushed through
into the church.

There was a low, droning sound in the empty place. It ran a space and was
then sucked in like the sound of the sea at the harbour steps. Brother
Paul was sitting in the chancel with a lamp on the stall by his side. His
head leaned forward, his eyes were closed, and the light on his thin face
made it look pallid and lifeless. John called to him in a whisper.

"Paul!"

He rose quickly and followed John into the courtyard, looking wild and
weak and lost.

"But the lamp--I've forgotten it," he said. "Shall I go back and put it
out?"

"How simple you are!" said John. "Somebody may be lying awake in the
house. Do you want him to see that you've left your penance an hour too
soon?"

"True."

"Come this way--quietl