f the Dominicans that left
nothing visible except his eyes.

'Greeting, my son,' he said, when he had scanned me for a while. 'The
abbess mother has told me of your errand. You are full young for such a
task.'

'Were I old I should not love it better, father. You know the case. I
am asked to provide a deadly drug for a certain merciful purpose. I have
provided that drug, but I must be there to see that it is put to proper
use.'

'You are very cautious, my son. The Church is no murderess. This woman
must die because her sin is flagrant, and of late such wickedness
has become common. Therefore, after much thought and prayer, and many
searchings to find a means of mercy, she is condemned to death by those
whose names are too high to be spoken. I, alas, am here to see the
sentence carried out with a certain mitigation which has been allowed by
the mercy of her chief judge. It seems that your presence is needful to
this act of love, therefore I suffer it. The mother abbess has warned
you that evil dogs the feet of those who reveal the secrets of the
Church. For your own sake I pray you to lay that warning to heart.'

'I am no babbler, father, so the caution is not needed. One word more.
This visit should be well feed, the medicine is costly.'

'Fear not, physician,' the monk answered with a note of scorn in his
voice; 'name your sum, it shall be paid to you.'

'I ask no money, father. Indeed I would pay much to be far away
to-night. I ask only that I may be allowed to speak with this girl
before she dies.'

'What!' he said, starting, 'surely you are not that wicked man? If so,
you are bold indeed to risk the sharing of her fate.'

'No, father, I am not that man. I never saw Isabella de Siguenza except
once, and I have never spoken to her. I am not the man who tricked her
but I know him; he is named Juan de Garcia.'

'Ah!' he said quickly, 'she would never tell his real name, even under
threat of torture. Poor erring soul, she could be faithful in her
unfaith. Of what would you speak to her?'

'I wish to ask her whither this man has gone. He is my enemy, and I
would follow him as I have already followed him far. He has done worse
by me and mine than by this poor girl even. Grant my request, father,
that I may be able to work my vengeance on him, and with mine the
Church's also.'

'"Vengeance is mine," saith the Lord; "I will repay." Yet it may be,
son, that the Lord will choose you as the instrument of his wrath