which were grouped about
the representatives and relatives of the late reigning house.

"I do not know his name," said the priest, "but I will lead you to him.
Perhaps he has food."

He extinguished two of the candles on the altar, crossing himself all
the while he was performing this ceremony, then led them through the
screen and out at the back of the chapel. Malcolm thought he saw a face
peering round the door as they approached it, and the shadow of a flying
form crossing the dark yard. Possibly the timid Father Joachim he
thought. Running along the wall was a low-roofed building.

"We are a simple order," said the priest, "and we live simply."

He had taken a candle lantern before he left the chapel, and this he
held up to give them a better view. Narrow half-doors, the tops being
absent, were set in the face of the building at intervals.

"Look!" he said, and pushed the lamp into the black void.

"A stable?" said Malinkoff.

He might have added: "a particularly draughty and unpleasant stable."
There were straw-filled mangers and straw littered the floor.

"Do you keep many horses?"

The priest shook his head.

"Here we sleep," he said, "as directed in a vision granted to our most
blessed saint and founder, St. Basil the Leper. For to him came an angel
in the night, saying these words: 'Why sleepest thou in a fine bed when
our Lord slept lowly in a stable?'"

He led the way across the yard to a larger building.

"His lordship may not wish to be disturbed, and if he is asleep I will
not wake him."

"How long has he been here?" asked Malcolm.

"Since morning," repeated the other.

They were in a stone hall, and the priest hesitated. Then he opened the
door cautiously, and peeped in. The room was well illuminated; they
could see the hanging kerosene lamps from where they stood.

"Come," said the priest's voice in a whisper, "he is awake."

Malcolm went first. The room, though bare, looked bright and warm; a big
wood fire blazed in an open hearth, and before it stood a man dressed in
a long blue military coat, his hands thrust into his pockets. The hood
of the coat was drawn over his head, and his attitude was one of
contemplation. Malcolm approached him.

"Excellenz," he began, "we are travellers who desire----"

Slowly the man turned.

"Oh, you 'desire'!" he bellowed. "What do you desire, Comrade Hay? I
will tell you what _I_ desire--my beautiful little lamb, my pretty
little wife!"

It was