irely stupid; and certainly this course of behaviour
brought him a quantity of guests.

* * * * *

Mr. Alban, about half-past nine o'clock, had finished unstrapping his
luggage. It was of the most innocent description, and contained nothing
that all the world might not see. He had made arrangements that articles
of another kind should come over from Rheims under the care of one of
the "servants," whose baggage would be less suspected. The distribution
would take place in a day or two. These articles comprised five sets of
altar vessels, five sets of mass-vestments, made of a stuff woven of all
the liturgical colours together, a dozen books, a box of medals, another
of _Agnus Deis_--little wax medallions stamped with the figure of a Lamb
supporting a banner--a bunch of beads, and a heavy little square package
of very thin altar-stones.

As he laid out the suit of clothes that he proposed to wear next day,
there was a rapping on his door.

"Mr. Babington is come--sir." (The last word was added as an obvious
afterthought, in case of listeners.)

Robin sprang up; the door was opened by his "servant," and Anthony came
in, smiling.

* * * * *

Mr. Anthony Babington had broadened and aged considerably during the
last five years. He was still youthful-looking, but he was plainly a man
and no longer a boy. And he presently said as much for his friend.

"You are a man, Robin," he said.--"Why, it slipped my mind!"

He knelt down promptly on the strip of carpet and kissed the palms of
the hands held out to him, as is the custom to do with newly-ordained
priests, and Robin murmured a blessing.

Then the two sat down again.

"And now for the news," said Robin.

Anthony's face grew grave.

"Yours first," he said.

So Robin told him. He had been ordained priest a month ago, at
Chalons-sur-Marne.... The college was as full as it could hold.... They
had had an unadventurous journey.

Anthony put a question or two, and was answered.

"And now," said Robin, "what of Derbyshire; and of the country; and of
my father? And is it true that Ballard is taken?"

Anthony threw an arm over the back of his chair, and tried to seem at
his ease.

"Well," he said, "Derbyshire is as it ever was. You heard of Thomas
FitzHerbert's defection?"

"Mistress Manners wrote to me of it, more than two years ago."

"Well, he does what he can: he comes and goes with his wife or w