uiet streets as she
went along, and some cabmen at the stand looked over at the woman in
nurse's dress, with a little bundle in one hand and the dog under the
other arm. "Been to a death, p'r'aps. Some uv these nurses, they've
tender 'earts, bless 'em, and when I was in the 'awspital----" But she
turned her head and hurried on, and the voice was lost in the empty air.

As she dipped into the slums of Westminster the sun gleamed on her wet
face, and a group of noisy, happy girls, going to their work in the jam
factories of Soho, came toward her laughing.

The girls looked at the Sister as she passed; their tongues stopped, and
there was a hush.

XII.

John Storm's enemies had succeeded. He was committed for sedition, and
there was the probability that when brought up again he would be charged
with complicity in manslaughter. Throughout the proceedings at the police
court he maintained a calm and dignified silence. Supported by an exalted
faith, he regarded even death with composure. When the trial was over and
the policeman who stood at the back of the dock tapped him on the arm, he
started like a man whose mind had been occupied by other issues.

"Eh?"

"Come," said the policeman, and he was taken back to the cells.

Next day he was removed to Holloway, and there he observed the same calm
and silent attitude. His bearing touched and impressed the authorities,
and they tried by various small kindnesses to make his imprisonment easy.
He encouraged them but little.

On the second morning an officer came to his cell and said, "Perhaps you
would care to look at the newspaper, Father?"

"Thank you, no," he answered. "The newspapers were never much to me even
when I was living in the world--they can not be necessary now that I am
going out of it."

"Oh, come, you exaggerate your danger. Besides, now that the papers
contain so much about yourself----"

"That is a reason why I should not see them."

"Well, to tell you the truth, Father, this morning's paper has something
about somebody else, and that was why I brought it."

"Eh?"

"Somebody near to you--very near and---- But I'll leave it with you----
Nothing to complain of this morning--no?"

But John Storm was already deep in the columns of the newspaper. He found
the news intended for him. It was the death of his father. The paragraph
was cruel and merciless. "Thus the unhappy man who was brought up at Bow
Street two days ago is now a peer in his own