hen. Now, sir, will you tell me what the message is, and the
place, to be sure that you know them; and then, sir, it will be time to
go; and God bless you, sir. God bless you for your kindness to us poor
papists!"

The man seized Anthony's gloved hand and kissed it fervently once or
twice.

Anthony repeated his instructions carefully. He was more touched than he
cared to show by the evident gratitude and relief of this poor terrified
Catholic.

"Th-that is right, sir; that is right; and now, sir, if you please, be
gone at once; or the Father will have left the Cathedral. The child will
be in the court below to show you the way out to the churchyard. God
bless you, sir; and reward you for your kindness!"

And as Anthony went out of the room he heard benedictions mingled with
sobs following him. The woman was nowhere to be seen; so he took the
oil-lamp from the landing, and found his way downstairs again, unfastened
the front door, and went out, leaving the lamp on the floor. The child
was leaning against the wall opposite; he could just see the glimmer of
her face in the heavy dusk.

"Come, my child," he said, "show me the way to the churchyard."

She came forward, and he began to follow her out of the little flagged
court. He turned round as he left the court and saw high up against the
blackness overhead a square of window lighted with a glow from within;
and simultaneously there came the sound of bolts being shut in the door
that he had just left. Evidently the old woman had been on the watch, and
was now barring the door behind him.

It wanted courage to do as Anthony was doing, but he was not lacking in
that; it was not a small matter to go to Papists' Corner and give a
warning to a Catholic priest: but firstly, James Maxwell was his friend,
and in danger: secondly, Anthony had no sympathy with religious
persecution; and thirdly, as has been seen, the last year had made a
really deep impression upon him: he was more favourably inclined to the
Catholic cause than he had ever imagined to be possible.

As he followed the child through the labyrinth of passages, passing every
now and then the lighted front of a house, or a little group of idlers
(for the rain had now ceased) who stared to see this gentleman in such
company, his head was whirling with questions and conjectures. Was it not
after all a dishonourable act to the Archbishop in whose service he was,
thus to take the side of the Papists? But that it wa