Where is it now?"

"Gorn, mum."

"Did anybody else see it? No? You say no? You're sure? Then say nothing
about it, Liza--nothing whatever--that's a good girl."

The newspaper was full of the mysterious disappearance. Not a trace of
the Father had yet been found. The idea had been started that he had gone
into seclusion at the Anglican monastery with which he was associated,
but on inquiry at Bishopsgate Street it was found that nothing had been
seen of him there. Since yesterday the whole of London had been scoured
by the police, but not one fact had been brought to light to make clearer
the mystery of his going away. With the most noticeable face and habit in
London he had evaded scrutiny and gone into a retirement which baffled
discovery. No master of the stage art could have devised a more
sensational disappearance. He had vanished as though whirled to heaven in
a cloud, and that was literally what the more fanatical of his followers
believed to have been his fate. Among these persons there were wild-eyed
hangers-on telling of a flight upward on a fiery chariot, as well as a
predicted disappearance and reappearance after three days. Such were the
stories being gulped down by the thousands who still clung with an
indefinable fascination to the memory of the charlatan. Meantime the
soldier Wilkes had died of his injuries, and the coroner's inquiry was to
be opened that day.

"Unfeeling brutes! The bloodhound is an angel of mercy compared to them,"
thought Glory, but the worst sting was in the thought that John had fled
out of fear and was now in hiding somewhere.

Toward noon the newsboys were rushing through the Inn, crying their
papers against all regulations, and at the same moment Rosa came in to
say that John Storm had surrendered.

"I knew it!" cried Glory; "I knew he would!"

Then Rosa told her of Brother Andrew's attempt to personate his master,
and with what pitiful circumstances it had ended.

"Only a lay brother, you say, Rosa?"

"Yes, a poor half-witted soul apparently--must have been, to imagine that
a subterfuge like that would succeed in London."

Glory's eyes were gleaming. "Rosa," she said, "I would rather have done
what he did than play the greatest part in the world."

She wished to be present at the trial, and proposed to Rosa that she
should go with her.

"But dare you, my child? Considering your old friendship, dare you see
him----"

"Dare I?" said Glory. "Dare I stand in the dock