was a small calf-bound diary. The inspector glanced
over one of the pages and uttered an exclamation of disgust. "Here are
some pretty entries," he cried. "'Feel the workings of grace within
me!' 'Prayed that I might be given a livelier interest in the Holy
Scriptures!' The book's full of that sort of thing!" he added, turning
over the leaves. "The fellow seems to have played the hypocrite even
with himself, for he could never have known that other eyes would rest
upon this."

"Dere'll be some queer company among de elect if he is dere!" Von
Baumser remarked.

"What's all this?" asked the inspector, tumbling a heap of clothes out
of the corner with his foot. "Why, here's a monk's dress!"

Kate sprang forward at the words. "Then I did see him!" she cried.
"I had almost persuaded myself that it was a dream."

"What was that?"

Kate told her story as well as she could, and the inspector made notes
of it.

"The crafty old dog!" he cried. "No doubt he could reconcile it with
his conscience more easily to frighten you to death than to actually
kill you. He told you that cock-and-a-bull story to excite your
imagination, and then, feeling sure that you would sooner or later try
and escape by night, he kept guard in this rig. The only wonder is that
he didn't succeed in either killing you or driving you mad with fright."

"Never mind now, dear," Tom whispered, as he saw the look of fear spring
into her eyes at the recollection of what had passed. "Don't think of
these terrible things. You will soon be safe in Phillimore Gardens in
my mother's arms. In the meanwhile, I think you would be the better for
some sleep."

"I think I should, Tom."

"Are you afraid to sleep in your own room?"

"No; I am afraid of nothing, now that I know you are near me. I knew so
well that you would come. I have been expecting you all the evening."

"I can never thank my good friends here enough for the help which they
have given me!" Tom exclaimed, turning to his companions.

"It is I who should thank them," said Kate earnestly, "I have found
friends, indeed. Who can say now that the days of chivalry are past?"

"Me dear young lady," the major answered, bowing with all the innate
grace of an Irish gentleman, "ye have warmed us by what ye say.
I personally was, as ye know, under orders which left me no choice but
to come. I hope, however, that ye will believe that had Mrs. Scully not
occupied the place in me affections