Phil once more
flung a lightning glance about the building. The walls of the chancel
on either side of the high altar and up to the level of the sill of the
glorious east window were draped with rich tapestry, depicting on a
background of gold thread, on the one side the Annunciation, and on the
other the Apotheosis of the Blessed Virgin; and Phil noticed that these
tapestries were suspended from rings strung upon massive brass rods,
which were supported by brass brackets let into the wall. It seemed to
him that those brackets were of such a length as to afford space enough
for a man to hide between the tapestry--which reached right down to the
floor--and the wall. The organ was softly breathing out the notes of
the "Agnus Dei" from a Mass which the organist was evidently practising,
and the man would probably be intent only upon his music. The
organ-blower, Phil decided, must be risked--perhaps he would be behind
the organ, or in some part of the loft from which the chancel could not
be seen;--and, as the voices outside grew louder and seemed to be
drawing nearer, he plucked Dick by the sleeve, beckoned him to follow,
and the pair stole softly up the length of the chancel to the altar,
dropped on their knees, lifted the bottom edge of the tapestry, crawled
underneath it, let it fall behind them, and rose to their feet in the
enclosed space between wall and tapestry at the precise moment when a
great bell began to peal out its alarm note from some distant part of
the building. The organist almost immediately ceased playing, and a
minute later the soft pad-pad of his own and another's sandalled feet
descending a wooden staircase not far away came, muffled, to the ears of
the fugitives; then followed the slam of a door, the turn of a key in a
lock, and the two friends knew themselves to be alone in the church,
with the west door wide open, affording them the means of instant flight
into the outer world, if they chose to avail themselves of it.

But that thought came to them only to be rejected on the instant. They
were still clad in the skins of beasts, which had taken the place of
their worn-out clothing; they were unkempt, unshaven, and altogether far
too conspicuous in every way to justify them in venturing into the
streets by daylight, or indeed at any time while the inhabitants were
abroad, therefore they must remain in hiding until darkness fell and the
people had retired to rest; and both fervently hoped that