ar determined to push the
matter to extremes. I must tell you then plainly that I see
nothing for it but the forwarding of our opinions to Rome, and I
cannot hold out to you the smallest prospect that you will meet
with a different judgment from the highest court."

He paused a moment.

There was a profound silence in the court. As Monsignor Masterman
glanced round, unable to understand what it was that caused this
sense of tremendous tension, he noticed a head or two in that
array of faces drop suddenly as if in overwhelming emotion. He
looked at the prisoner; but there was no movement there. The
young monk had put his papers neatly together, and was standing,
upright and motionless, with his hands clasped upon them. The
Dominican's voice went on abruptly:

"Have you anything further to say before the court dissolves?"

"I should like to express my sense of the extreme fairness and
considerateness of my judges," said the monk, "and to say again,
as at the beginning, that I commit my cause unreservedly into
the hands of God."

The three judges rose together; a door opened behind and they
disappeared. Instantly a buzz of tongues began and the sound of
shifting feet. As Monsignor glanced back again at the dock,
amazed at the sudden change of scene, he saw the monk's head
disappearing down the staircase that led below from the dock. He
still did not understand what had happened. He still thought that
it was some minor stage of the process that was finished,
probably on some technical point.

(II)

He still sat there wondering, thinking that he would let the
corridors clear a little before he went out again, and asking
himself what it was that had caused that obvious sensation during
the judge's last words. To all outward appearance, nothing could
be less critical than what he had seen and heard. Plainly the
trial was going against the prisoner, but there had been no
decision, no sentence. The inquisitors and the prisoner had
talked together almost like friends discussing a not very vital
matter. And yet the sensation had been overwhelming. . . .

As he rose at last, still watching the emptying court, he heard a
tap on the door, and before he could speak, the Abbot of
Westminster rustled up the steps, in his habit and cross and gold
chain. His face looked ominously strained and pale.

"I . . . I saw you from the court, Monsignor. For God's
sake . . . sit down again an instant. Let me speak with you."

Mo