nestly working and
praying. I am not blinded by these men. They are not the creatures
you describe; but no matter what they may be, it is only through them,
and through them alone, that I can do what I have set out to do."

Gordon silenced her with a sweep of his hand. "Do you mean to tell
me," he demanded, "that you are mixed up in this--with these--that they
have taken money from you, and told you they meant to use it to
re-establish the Church? Mrs. Carson," he exclaimed, bitterly, turning
upon her, "why have you allowed this--what have you been doing while
this was going on? Do you suppose those scoundrels care for the
Church--the Church, indeed! Wait until I see them--any of
them--Erhaupt by choice, and I'll make them give up every franc you've
lent them, or I'll horsewhip and expose them for the gang of welshers
and thimble-riggers they are; or if they prefer their own methods, I'll
call them out in rotation and shoot their arms and legs off." He
stopped and drew a long breath, either of content that he had
discovered the situation in time to take some part in it, or at the
prospect of a fight.

"The idea of you two helpless females wandering into this den of
wolves!" he exclaimed, indignantly. "It's about time you had a man to
look after you! You go back to your hotel now, and let me have a chat
with Louis of Messina. He's kept me waiting some twenty minutes as it
is, and that's a little longer than I can give him. I'm not a
creditor." He rose from his chair; but Miss Carson put out her hand
and motioned him to be seated.

"Archie," she said, "I like the way you take this, even though you are
all wrong about it, because it's just like you to fly into a passion
and want to fight someone for somebody. If your conclusions were
anywhere near the truth, you would be acting very well. But they are
not. The King is not handling my money, nor the Prince Kalonay. It is
in the keeping of Father Paul, the Father Superior of the Dominican
monks, who is the only one of these people I know or who knows me. He
is not a swindler, too, is he, or a retired croupier? Listen to me
now, and do not fly out like that at me, or at mother. It is not her
fault. Last summer mother and I went to Messina as tourists, and one
day, when passing through a seaport town, we saw a crowd of people on
the shore, standing or kneeling by the hundreds in a great semicircle
close to the water's edge. There was a priest preaching