r was
advancing. Groener looked at his watch again. Twenty minutes past three!
She had been in that box over half an hour. It was ridiculous,
unreasonable. Besides, the priest was gone; her confession was finished.
She must come out.

"Alice!" he called in a low tone, standing near the penitent's curtain.

There was no answer.

Then he knocked sharply on the woodwork: "Alice, what are you doing?"

Still no answer.

Groener's face darkened, and with sudden suspicion he drew aside the
curtain.

The confessional box was empty--_Alice was gone!_

[Illustration: "The confessional box was empty--_Alice was gone!_"]

CHAPTER XXII

AT THE HAIRDRESSER'S

What had happened was very simple. The confessional box from which Alice
had vanished was one not in use at the moment, owing to repairs in the wall
behind it. These repairs had necessitated the removal of several large
stones, replaced temporarily by lengths of supporting timbers between which
a person might easily pass. Coquenil, with his habit of careful
observation, had remarked this fact during his night in the church, and now
he had taken advantage of it to effect Alice's escape. The girl had entered
the confessional in the usual way, had remained there long enough to let
Groener hear her voice, and had then slipped out through the open wall into
the sacristy passage beyond. _And the priest was Tignol!_

"I scored on him that time," chuckled Coquenil, rubbing away at the
woodwork and thinking of Alice hastening to the safe place he had chosen
for her.

"M. Matthieu!" called Groener. "Would you mind coming here a moment?"

"I was just going to ask you to look at these carvings," replied Matthieu,
coming forward innocently.

"No, no," answered the other excitedly, "a most unfortunate thing has
happened. Look at that!" and he opened the door of the confessional. "She
has gone--run away!"

Matthieu stared in blank surprise. "Name of a pipe!" he muttered. "Not your
cousin?"

Groener nodded with half-shut eyes in which the detective caught a flash of
black rage, but only a flash. In a moment the man's face was placid and
good-natured as before.

"Yes," he said quietly, "my cousin has run away. It makes me sad
because--Sit down a minute, M. Matthieu, I'll tell you about it."

"We'll be more quiet in here," suggested Matthieu, indicating the sacristy.

The wood carver shook his head. "I'd sooner go outside, if you don't mind.
Will you join me in a