he had to shake it.

The parson was evidently still awake, his voice resounded from within
the house: "All good spirits praise the Lord!"

"Amen! 'Tis I who am at the door. Let me in reverend father."

The priest immediately opened the door and, full of amazement, asked Mr.
Gerzson what had happened.

"Read that!" said Gerzson handing him the letter and lighting him with
the lamp.

"This is the baroness's writing," said the priest, who immediately
recognized the script.

"What do you say to its contents?"

"I say that you must get away from this place immediately. I quite
comprehend the meaning of the baroness's directions."

"What! fly from a man whom I have just called out?"

"No, you must fly from the man you have _not_ called out."

"I don't understand."

"You will one day, but there is no time for parleying now. First of all,
put on my garments, while I dress up in peasants' clothes."

"Why?"

"Why! Because I must be your guide through the mountains. I cannot trust
another to do you that service. Do quickly what I tell you."

The priest gave his orders to Mr. Gerzson with imperious brevity, but
that gentleman, even in his present situation, could not divest himself
of his homely humour, and as he was donning the parson's long cassock
and pressed the broad brimmed clerical hat down upon his head, he fell a
laughing at the odd figure he cut.

"Deuce take it!" he cried, "I never imagined that I should ever be
turned into a parson."

But the priest was angry at the untimely jest and turning savagely upon
Squire Gerzson, said: "Sir, this is no time for jesting, we are both of
us standing on the very threshold of death."

Gerzson was no coward, nor did he trouble himself very much about death,
but the emphatic tone of the parson at least induced him, at last, to
take the matter seriously.

"Then according to that you also are in danger on my account?"

"Ask no questions! I knew what would happen when I gave you a night's
lodging."

Then he took out of a drawer a packet of letters and bade Gerzson put
them in the pocket of his cassock as the coat he was wearing had no
pockets.

"Why do you take these with you?"

"Because I fear to leave them here, and also because I believe I shall
never return to this house any more. I have one request to make of you
and that is that you will read these letters and keep the contents to
yourself." Gerzson promised to do so.

It was just as the descending moo