lous
murderer who was driven along by devilish passion. How the devil had
played with him too!--with him, who was dedicated by the most solemn and
sacred vows! And he had been as stubble before the wind--as chaff that
the storm carrieth away!

With such feelings of poignant anguish he plodded through the echoing
streets. Mechanically he made his way back to Westminster. By the time he
got there the moon and stars had gone and the chill of daybreak was in
the air. He saw and heard nothing, but as he crossed Broad Sanctuary a
line of mounted police trotted past him with their swords clanking.

It was not yet daylight when he knocked at the door of his chambers under
the church.

"Who's there?" came in a fierce whisper.

"Open the door," he said in a spiritless voice.

The door was opened, and Brother Andrew, with the affectionate whine of a
dog who has been snarling at his master in the dark, said: "Oh, is it
you, Father? I thought you were gone. Did you meet them? They've been
searching for you everywhere all night long."

He still spoke in whispers, as if some one had been ill. "I can't light
up. They'd be sure to see and perhaps come back. They'll come in the
morning in any case. Oh, it's terrible! Worse than ever now! Haven't you
heard what has happened? Somebody has been killed!"

John was struggling to listen, but everything seemed to be happening a
long way off.

"Well, not killed exactly, but badly hurt, and taken to the hospital."

It was Charlie Wilkes. He had insulted the name of the Father, and
Pincher, the pawnbroker, had knocked him down. His head had struck
against the curb, and he had been picked up insensible. Then the police
had come and Pincher had been taken off to the police station.

"But it's my mother I'm thinking of," said Brother Andrew, and he brushed
his sleeve across his eyes. "You must get away at once, Father. They'll
lay everything on you. What's to be done? Let me think! Let me think! How
my head is going round and round! There's a train from Euston to the
north at five in the morning, isn't there? You must catch that. Don't
speak, Father! Don't say you won't."

"I will go," said John with a look of utter dejection.

The change that had come over him since the night before startled the lay
brother. "But I suppose you've been out all night. How tired you look!
Can I get you anything?"

John did not answer, and the lay brother brought some brown bread and
coaxed him to eat a