shamed. You must go to bed now."

"Can I put out the lights for you?"

"No, I'm not ready yet. Ugh! what a cruel wind! A cold night for Brother
Paul in the church."

"Tell me, Brother Storm, what is the matter with Brother Paul? He makes
me think of my mother, I don't know why."

John made no answer, and the lay brother began to go upstairs. Two steps
up he stopped and whispered:

"Won't you let me do something for you, then?"

"Not to-night, Brother Andrew."

"Good-night, Brother Storm."

"Good-night, my lad."

John listened to his footsteps until they stopped far overhead, and then
all was quiet. Only the whistling of the wind broke the stillness of the
peaceful house. He slid back the grating and looked out. All was darkness
except for the tiny gleam of coloured light that came from the church,
where Brother Paul sat to say his Rosary.

This fortified his courage, and he got up to put out the lamps in the
staircase and corridors. He began at the top, and as he came down he
listened on every landing and looked carefully around. There was no sound
anywhere except the light fall of his own deadened footstep. His
superstitious fears came back upon him, and his restless conscience
created terrors. The old London mansion, with its mystic cells, seemed
full of strange shadows, and the wind howled around it like a fiend. One
by one he extinguished the lamps. The last of them hung in the hall under
the picture of Christ in his crown of thorns. As he put it out he thought
the eyes looked at him, and he shuddered.

It was now half-past ten, and time to carry out his project. The back of
his neck was aching and his breath was coming quick. With noiseless steps
he walked to the door of the Father's room and listened again. Hearing
nothing, he opened the door wide and stepped into the room.

The fire was slumbering out, but it cast a faint red glow on the ceiling
and on the bed. A soft light rested on the Father's face, and he was
sleeping peacefully. There was no sound except the wind in the chimney
and a whistle sounding from a steamer in the river.

To reach the key, where it hung above the bed, it was necessary to step
between the fire and the sleeping man. As John did so his black shadow
fell on the Father's face. He stretched out his hand for the key and
found that a bunch of other keys were now hanging over it. When he
removed them they jingled slightly, and then his heart stood still, but
the Father did not