ennis. He would be far away, as usual, with an alibi obviously
provided on purpose.

Most of all, the silence of the place was disquieting. The door of the
barn was open. Within, all trace of the ridiculous gauds of a former
time had disappeared. It had been restored carefully, with knowledge
and discretion, to its first use as a chapel. A crucifix hung above
the communion table. The twin sets of commandments, written in gold on
blue, were against the wall on either side. The Bible, on the little
lectern, behind a gilt eagle no bigger than a sparrow, was open at the
lesson for the day. The Breckonside people, though in their
Presbyterian hearts condemning such signs and symbols, paused
open-mouthed, taken with a kind of awe, and as Mr. De la Poer dropped
on one knee to make his altar reverence, all filed out bareheaded and a
little ashamed of themselves.

None thought of going farther. Though I knew very well that behind the
hanging of dull purple at the lectern was the door by which Mr.
Ablethorpe had saved his strange parishioners, and so cheated the hasty
angers of Breckonside.

Nor did I tell them of it. Somehow I was no longer a leader. And deep
in my heart I felt sure that if Elsie were indeed there, Mr. Ablethorpe
would give his life rather than that any harm should come to her.
Besides Elsie and I had been so many times in danger of our lives, in
that very place even, that I knew somehow she would come back to me
unhurt. At any rate, the actual prison house where she was hidden was
far beyond our ken. None of us thought of searching on the other side
of the moat, where was the underground oven of the Cistercians, in
which Elsie (as she has already told) was interned.

Perhaps I did wrong in not revealing the secret of the passage. But
then if there had been bloodshed--and our folk were quite in the mood
for it--the death or ill-usage of these poor innocents (I do not speak
of Miss Orrin or Mad Jeremy) would have been on my head. On the whole,
I am still convinced that I acted wisely. And I am sure also that Mr.
Ablethorpe did so. For he had, there was no doubt, hurried the sisters
Honorine, Camilla, and Sidonia, with their eldest sister Miss Orrin,
from the chapel where he had known he would be sure to find them at
that hour, by the passage along which I had chased him, and had finally
hidden them safely in the range of underground buildings that had been
the store and treasure-houses of the