of the pillars?"

"Nay, father," said Jorian, "here in the churchyard lie buried all that
buried be. Why?"

"No matter, Prithee tell me then where lieth Margaret Brandt."

"Margaret Brandt?" And Jorian stared stupidly at the speaker.

"She died about three years ago, and was buried here."

"Oh, that is another matter," said Jorian; "that was before my time; the
vicar could tell you, likely; if so be she was a gentlewoman, or at the
least rich enough to pay him his fee."

"Alas, my son, she was poor (and paid a heavy penalty for it); but born
of decent folk. Her father, Peter, was a learned physician; she came
hither from Sevenbergen--to die."

When Clement had uttered these words his head sunk upon his breast, and
he seemed to have no power nor wish to question Jorian more. I doubt
even if he knew where he was. He was lost in the past.

Jorian put down his spade, and standing upright in the grave, set his
arms akimbo, and said sulkily, "Are you making a fool of me, holy sir,
or has some wag been making a fool of you!" And having relieved his mind
thus, he proceeded to dig again, with a certain vigour that showed his
somewhat irritable temper was ruffled.

Clement gazed at him with a puzzled but gently reproachful eye, for
the tone was rude, and the words unintelligible. Good-natured, though
crusty, Jorian had not thrown up three spadefuls ere he became ashamed
of it himself. "Why, what a base churl am I to speak thus to thee, holy
father; and thou a standing there, looking at me like a lamb. Aha! I
have it; 'tis Peter Brandt's grave you would fain see, not Margaret's.
He does lie here; hard by the west door. There; I'll show you." And he
laid down his spade, and put on his doublet and jerkin to go with the
friar.

He did not know there was anybody sitting on Peter's tomb. Still less
that she was watching for this holy friar.

Pietro Vanucci and Andrea did not recognize him without his beard. The
fact is, that the beard which has never known a razor grows in a very
picturesque and characteristic form, and becomes a feature in the face;
so that its removal may in some cases be an effectual disguise.

CHAPTER LXXXVII

While Jorian was putting on his doublet and jerkin to go to Peter's
tomb, his tongue was not idle. "They used to call him a magician out
Sevenbergen way. And they do say he gave 'em a touch of his trade at
parting; told 'em he saw Margaret's lad a-coming down Rhine in brave
clothes and sto