ths had passed since the ship _Great Yarmouth_ sailed, and
during this time all that had been heard of her was that she had never
reached Seville, so that, like every one else, the Abbot believed she
had foundered in the deep seas. This was a sad event which he had
borne with resignation, seeing that, although it meant the loss of his
letters, which were of importance, she had aboard of her several persons
whom he wished to see no more, especially Sir Christopher Harflete and
Sir John Foterell's serving-man, Jeffrey Stokes, who was said to
carry with him certain inconvenient documents. Even his secretary
and chaplain, Brother Martin, could be spared, being, Maldon felt, a
character better suited to heaven than to an earth where the best of men
must be prepared sometimes to compromise with conscience.

In short, the vanishing of the _Great Yarmouth_ was the wise decree of
a far-seeing Providence, that had removed certain stumbling-blocks
from his feet, which of late had been forced to travel over a rough and
thorny road. For the dead tell no tales, although it was true that the
ghost of Sir John Foterell and the grinning head of Drunken Andrew
on his pinnacle seemed to be instances to the contrary. Christopher
Harflete and Jeffrey Stokes at the bottom of the Bay of Biscay could
bring no awkward charges, and left him none to deal with save an
imprisoned and forgotten girl and an unborn child.

Now things were changed again, however, for the Spanish letter in his
hand told him that the _Great Yarmouth_ had not sunk, since two members
of her crew who escaped--how, it was not said--declared that she had
been captured by Turkish or other infidel pirates and taken away through
the Straits of Gibraltar to some place unknown. Therefore, if he had
survived the voyage, Christopher Harflete might still be living, and so
might Jeffrey Stokes and Brother Martin. Yet this was not likely,
for probably they would have perished in the fight, being hot-headed
Englishmen, all three of them, or at the best have been committed to the
Turkish galleys, whence not one man in a thousand ever returned.

On the whole, then, he had little cause to fear them, who were dead,
or as good as dead, especially in the midst of so many more pressing
dangers. All he had to fear, all that stood between him, or rather the
Church, and a very rich inheritance was the girl in the Nunnery and an
unborn child, and--yes, Emlyn Stower. Well, he was sure that the chi