and do what you will with him."

"Nay, nay," the priest whimpered. "Keep him off me. Save me from blind
Andreas! I will tell you everything."

"The password then, this instant?"

"It is 'Benedicite!'"

"We have the password, Simon," cried Nigel. "Come then, let us on to the
farther end. These peasants will guard the priest, and they will remain
here lest we wish to send a message."

"Nay, fair sir, it is in my mind that we can do better," said Simon.
"Let us take the priest with us, so that he who is within may know his
voice."

"It is well thought of," said Nigel, "and first let us pray together,
for indeed this night may well be our last."

He and the three men-at-arms knelt in the rain and sent up their simple
orisons, Simon still clutching tight to his prisoner's wrist.

The priest fumbled in his breast and drew something forth. "It is the
heart of the blessed confessor Saint Enogat," said he. "It may be that
it will ease and assoil your souls if you would wish to handle it."

The four Englishmen passed the flat silver case from hand to hand, each
pressing his lips devoutly upon it. Then they rose to their feet. Nigel
was the first to lower himself down the hole; then Simon; then the
priest, who was instantly seized by the other two. The men-at-arms
followed them. They had scarcely moved away from the hole when Nigel
stopped.

"Surely some one else came after us," said he.

They listened, but no whisper or rustle came from behind them. For a
minute they paused and then resumed their journey through the dark. It
seemed a long, long way, though in truth it was but a few hundred yards
before they came to a door with a glimmer of yellow light around it,
which barred their passage. Nigel struck upon it with his hand.

There was the rasping of a bolt and then a loud voice "Is that you,
priest?"

"Yes, it is I," said the prisoner in a quavering voice. "Open, Arnold!"

The voice was enough. There was no question of passwords. The door swung
inward, and in an instant the janitor was cut down by Nigel and Simon.
So sudden and so fierce was the attack that save for the thud of
his body no sound was heard. A flood of light burst outward into the
passage, and the Englishmen stood with blinking eyes in its glare.

In front of them lay a stone-flagged corridor, across which lay the
dead body of the janitor. It had doors on either side of it, and another
grated door at the farther end. A strange hubbub, a kind of