ies. It must be a fanatic
of some kind who lived here, and he inclined to consider the owner as
probably an eccentric old lady with a fad, and a large number of
lap-dogs.

As he came nearer, through the trees, he became still more astonished,
for as the branches thinned, he became aware of lights burning at such
enormous distances apart that the building seemed more like a village
than a house.

Straight before him shone a row of lighted squares, high up, as if hung
in air, receding in perspective, till blocked out by a black mass which
seemed a roof of some kind; far on the left shone some kind of
illuminated gateway, and to his right another window or two glimmered
almost beneath his feet.

Another fifty yards down the winding drive disclosed a sight that made
him seriously wonder whether the whole experience were real, for now
only a few steps further on, and still lower than the level at which he
was, stood, apparently, a porter's lodge, as of a great college. There
was a Tudor archway, with rooms above it and rooms on either side; a
lamp hung from the roof illuminated the dry stone pavement within, and
huge barred gates at the further end, shut off all other view. It looked
like the entrance to some vast feudal castle, and he thought again that
if an eccentric old lady lived here, she must be very eccentric indeed.
He began to wonder whether a seneschal in a belt hung with keys would
presently make his appearance: he considered whether or not he could
wind a horn, if there were no other way of summoning the retainers.

When at last he tapped at a small interior door, also studded and barred
with iron, and the door opened, the figure he did see was hardly less of
a shock to him than a seneschal would have been.

For there stood, as if straight out of a Christmas number, the figure of
a monk, tall, lean, with gray hair, clean-shaven, with a pair of merry
eyes and a brisk manner. He wore a broad leather band round his black
frock, and carried his spare hand thrust deep into it.

(II)

The monk sighed humorously.

"Another of them," he said. "Well, my man?"

"Please, father--"

The monk closed his eyes as in resignation.

"You needn't try that on," he said. "Besides, I'm not a father. I'm a
brother. Can you remember that?"

Frank smiled back.

"Very well, brother. I'm a Catholic myself."

"Ah! yes," sighed the monk briskly. "That's what they all say. Can you
say the 'Divine Praises'? Do you know wh