t for that of the Abbot. She struck
at him with the sword she held, but the steel glanced from his mail. He
also struck, but at the lantern, dashing it to the ground.

"Seize him," screamed Emlyn. "Seize Maldon, Jeffrey," and at the words
Stokes bounded away, only to return presently, having lost him in the
dark passages. Then with a roar Bolle leaped upon the two remaining
men-at-arms as they faced about, and very soon between his axe and
the sword of the priest behind, they sank to the ground and died still
fighting, who knew they had no hope of quarter.

It was over and done and dreadful silence fell upon the place, the
silence of the dead broken only by the heavy breathing of those who
remained alive. There the wounded monk leaned against the door-post, his
red sword drooping to the floor. There Harflete, the stool still lifted,
rested his weight against the chain and peered forward in amazement,
swaying as though from weakness. And lastly there lay the three slain
men, one of whom still moved a little.

Cicely crept forward; over the dead she went and past the priest till
she stood face to face with the prisoner.

"Come nearer and I will dash out your brains," he said in a hoarse
voice, for such light as there was came from behind her whom he thought
to be but another of the murderers.

Then at length she found her voice.

"Christopher!" she cried, "Christopher!"

He hearkened, and the stool fell from his hand.

"The Voice again," he muttered. "Well, 'tis time. Tarry a while, Wife, I
come, I come!" and he fell back against the wall shutting his eyes.

She leapt to him, and throwing her arms about him kissed his lips, his
poor, bloodless lips. The shut eyes opened.

"Death might be worse," he said, "but so I knew that we would meet."

Now Emlyn, seeing some change in his face, snatched one of the torches
from its iron and ran forward, holding it so that the light fell full on
Cicely.

"Oh, Christopher," she cried, "I am no ghost, but your living wife."

He heard, he stared, he stared again, then lifted his thin hand and
stroked her hair.

"Oh God," he exclaimed, "the dead live!" and down he fell in a heap at
her feet.

They thrust Cicely aside, Cicely who stood there shivering, she who
thought he had gone again and this time for ever. With difficulty they
broke the chain whereby he had been held like a kennelled hound, and
bore him, still senseless, up the long passages, Bolle going ahead
as guard