ok a last glance at the Mother Superior, and to my dismay I
saw that her piercing dark eyes were fixed, with an expression in which
surprise was deepening into suspicion, upon my right hand. There were
two points which might well have attracted her attention. One was that
it was red with the blood of the sentinel whom I had stabbed in the
tree. That alone might count for little, as the knife was as familiar as
the breviary to the monks of Saragossa.

But on my forefinger I wore a heavy gold ring--the gift of a certain
German baroness whose name I may not mention. It shone brightly in
the light of the altar lamp. Now, a ring upon a friar's hand is an
impossibility, since they are vowed to absolute poverty.

I turned quickly and made for the door of the chapel, but the mischief
was done. As I glanced back I saw that the Mother Superior was already
hurrying after me. I ran through the chapel door and along the corridor,
but she called out some shrill warning to the two guards in front.
Fortunately I had the presence of mind to call out also, and to point
down the passage as if we were both pursuing the same object. Next
instant I had dashed past them, sprang into the cell, slammed the heavy
door, and fastened it upon the inside.

With a bolt above and below and a huge lock in the centre it was a piece
of timber that would take some forcing.

Even now if they had had the wit to put a barrel of powder against the
door I should have been ruined. It was their only chance, for I had come
to the final stage of my adventure. Here at last, after such a string of
dangers as few men have ever lived to talk of, I was at one end of
the powder train, with the Saragossa magazine at the other. They were
howling like wolves out in the passage, and muskets were crashing
against the door. I paid no heed to their clamour, but I looked eagerly
around for that train of which Hubert had spoken. Of course, it must be
at the side of the room next to the magazine. I crawled along it on my
hands and knees, looking into every crevice, but no sign could I see.
Two bullets flew through the door and flattened themselves against the
wall. The thudding and smashing grew ever louder. I saw a grey pile in
a corner, flew to it with a cry of joy, and found that it was only dust.
Then I got back to the side of the door where no bullets could ever
reach me--they were streaming freely into the room--and I tried to
forget this fiendish howling in my ear and t