."

"Thank you, Cousin Adolf," she said eagerly. "I'll hurry right back; I'll
be here by ten minutes past three."

He eyed her keenly. "You needn't trouble to come back, I'll go to the
church with you."

"And wait there?" she asked with a shade of disappointment.

"Yes," he answered briefly.

There was nothing more to say, and a few minutes later Alice, anxious-eyed
but altogether lovely in flower-spread hat and a fleecy pink gown, entered
Notre-Dame followed by the wood carver.

"Will you wait here, cousin, by my little table?" she asked sweetly.

"You seem anxious to get rid of me," he smiled.

"No, no," she protested, but her cheeks flushed; "I only thought this chair
would be more comfortable."

"Any chair will do for me," he said dryly. "Where is your confessional?"

"On the other side," and she led the way down the right aisle, past various
recessed chapels, past various confessional boxes, each bearing the name of
the priest who officiated there. And presently as they came to a
confessional box in the space near the sacristy Alice pointed to the name,
"Father Anselm."

"There," she said.

"Is the priest inside?"

"Yes." And then, with a new idea: "Cousin Adolf," she whispered, "if you go
along there back of the choir and down a little stairway, you will come to
the treasure room. It might interest you."

He looked at her in frank amusement. "I'm interested already. I'll get
along very nicely here. Now go ahead and get through with it."

The girl glanced about her with a helpless gesture, and then, sighing
resignedly, she entered the confessional. Groener seated himself on one of
the little chairs and leaned back with a satisfied chuckle. He was so near
the confessional that he could hear a faint murmur of voices--Alice's sweet
tones and then the priest's low questions.

Five minutes passed, ten minutes! Groener looked at his watch impatiently.
He heard footsteps on the stone of the choir, and, glancing up, saw
Matthieu polishing the carved stalls. Some ladies passed with a guide who
was showing them the church. Groener rose and paced back and forth
nervously. What a time the girl was taking! Then the door of the
confessional box opened and a black-robed priest came out and moved
solemnly away. _Enfin!_ It was over! And with a feeling of relief Groener
watched the priest as he disappeared in the passage leading to the
sacristy.

Still Alice lingered, saying a last prayer, no doubt. But the hou