e're going into that Room of Silence!"

"Take that chance now? Never in the world! Why, Ruth, if he saw us in
there, or guessed we'd been there, he'd probably murder us both. You
know how gentle he is when he gets well started?"

"But how will he know? No one is here, and David won't be back from the
mountain for a long time if he waits for the sun."

"Just stop thinking about it, Ruth."

"I'll never stop as long as I live, unless I see it. I've dreamed
steadily about that room all night."

"Go alone, then, and I'll stay here."

She went resolutely across the patio, and Connor, following with an
exclamation, caught her arm roughly at the door.

"You aren't serious?"

"Deadly serious!"

The glitter of her dark eyes convinced him more than words.

"Then we'll go together. But make it short!"

They swept the patio with conscience-stricken glances, and then opened
the door. As they did so, the ugly face of Joseph appeared at the
entrance to the patio, looked and hastily was withdrawn.

"This is like a woman," muttered Connor, as they closed the door with
guilty softness behind them. "Risk her life for a secret that isn't
worth a tinker's damn!"

For the room was almost empty, and what was in it was the simplest of
the simple. There was a roughly made table in the center. Five chairs
stood about it. On the table was a book, and the seven articles made up
the entire furnishings. Connor was surprised to see tears in the eyes of
Ruth.

"Don't you see?" she murmured in reply to his exclamation. "The four
chairs for the four dead men when David sits down in his own place?"

"Well, what of that?"

"What's in the book?"

"Are you going to wait to see that?"

"Open the door a little, Ben, and then we can hear if any one comes
near."

He obeyed and came back, grumbling. "We can hear every one except David.
That step of his wouldn't break eggs."

He found the girl already poring over the first page of the old book, on
which there was writing in a delicate hand.

She read aloud: "The story of the Garden of Eden, who made it and why it
was made. Told without error by Matthew."

"Hot stuff!" chuckled Connor. "We got a little time before the sun comes
up. But it's getting red in the east. Let's hear some more."

There was nothing imposing about the book. It was a ledger with a
half-leather binding such as storekeepers use for accounts. Time had
yellowed the edges of the paper and the ink was dulled. She read: