proprietor to the front room to demand news of any exit. Colonel Pound,
with the chairman, the vice-president, and one or two others darted down
the corridor leading to the servants' quarters, as the more likely line
of escape. As they did so they passed the dim alcove or cavern of
the cloak room, and saw a short, black-coated figure, presumably an
attendant, standing a little way back in the shadow of it.

"Hallo, there!" called out the duke. "Have you seen anyone pass?"

The short figure did not answer the question directly, but merely said:
"Perhaps I have got what you are looking for, gentlemen."

They paused, wavering and wondering, while he quietly went to the back
of the cloak room, and came back with both hands full of shining silver,
which he laid out on the counter as calmly as a salesman. It took the
form of a dozen quaintly shaped forks and knives.

"You--you--" began the colonel, quite thrown off his balance at last.
Then he peered into the dim little room and saw two things: first, that
the short, black-clad man was dressed like a clergyman; and, second,
that the window of the room behind him was burst, as if someone had
passed violently through. "Valuable things to deposit in a cloak room,
aren't they?" remarked the clergyman, with cheerful composure.

"Did--did you steal those things?" stammered Mr. Audley, with staring
eyes.

"If I did," said the cleric pleasantly, "at least I am bringing them
back again."

"But you didn't," said Colonel Pound, still staring at the broken
window.

"To make a clean breast of it, I didn't," said the other, with some
humour. And he seated himself quite gravely on a stool. "But you know
who did," said the, colonel.

"I don't know his real name," said the priest placidly, "but I know
something of his fighting weight, and a great deal about his spiritual
difficulties. I formed the physical estimate when he was trying to
throttle me, and the moral estimate when he repented."

"Oh, I say--repented!" cried young Chester, with a sort of crow of
laughter.

Father Brown got to his feet, putting his hands behind him. "Odd, isn't
it," he said, "that a thief and a vagabond should repent, when so many
who are rich and secure remain hard and frivolous, and without fruit for
God or man? But there, if you will excuse me, you trespass a little upon
my province. If you doubt the penitence as a practical fact, there are
your knives and forks. You are The Twelve True Fishers, an