himself.

The arguments twisted and turned as bewilderingly as the twining
branches of his design; and behind each by which he might climb to
decision lurked a beast. He felt helpless and dazed by the storm of
conflicting motives.

As he bent over his work he prayed for light, but the question seemed
more tangled than before; the hours were creeping in; by to-morrow he
must decide.

Then the memory of the Prior's advice to him once before came back to
his mind; this was the kind of thing, he told himself, that he must
leave to God, his own judgment was too coarse an instrument; he must
wait for a clear supernatural impulse; and as he thought of it he laid
his pencil down, dropped on to his knees, and commended it all to God,
to the Mother of God, St. Pancras, St. Peter and St. Paul. Even as he
did it, the burden lifted and he knew that he would know, when the time
came.

* * * * *

Dr. Petre came that night, but Chris saw no more of him than his back as
he went up the cloister with Dom Anthony to the Prior's chamber. The
Prior was not at supper, and his seat was empty in the dim refectory.

Neither was he at Compline; and it was with the knowledge that
Cromwell's man and their own Superior were together in conference, that
the monks went up the dormitory stairs that night.

But he was in his place at the chapter-mass next morning, though he
spoke to no one, and disappeared immediately afterwards.

Then at the appointed time the monks assembled in the chapter-house.

* * * * *

As Chris came in he lifted his eyes, and saw that the room was arrayed
much as it had been at the visit of Dr. Layton and Ralph. A great table,
heaped with books and papers, stood at the upper end immediately below
the dais, and a couple of secretaries were there, sharp-looking men,
seated at either end and busy with documents.

The Prior was in his place in the shadow and was leaning over and
talking to a man who sat beside him. Chris could make out little of the
latter except that he seemed to be a sort of lawyer or clerk, and was
dressed in a dark gown and cap. He was turning over the leaves of a book
as the Prior talked, and nodded his head assentingly from time to time.

When all the monks were seated, there was still a pause. It was
strangely unlike the scene of a tragedy, there in that dark grave room
with the quiet faces downcast round the walls, and the hands hid