deeper notes
of the organ shook the building in their vain search for an exit.

The chapel was long and narrow. Marcos and his father were alone at the
west end, concealed by the font of which the wooden cover rose like a
miniature spire almost to the ceiling. A group of people were kneeling on
the bare floor by the screen which had never been repaired but showed
clearly where the carving had been knocked and torn to make the bonfire
in the patio.

Two priests were on the altar steps while the choristers were dimly
visible through the broken railing of the screen. There seemed to be some
nuns within the screen while others knelt without; four knelt apart, as
if awaiting admission to the inner sanctum.

"That is Juanita," whispered Marcos, pointing with a steady finger. The
girl kneeling next to her was weeping. But Juanita knelt upright, her
face half turned so that they could see her clear-cut profile against the
candle-light beyond. To those who study human nature, every attitude or
gesture is of value; there were energy and courage in the turn of
Juanita's head. She was listening.

Near to her the motionless black form of Sor Teresa towered among the
worshippers. She was looking straight in front of her. Not far away a
bowed figure all curved and cringing with weak emotion--a sight to make
men pause and think--was Leon de Mogente. Behind him, upright with a
sleek bowed head, was Evasio Mon. From his position and in the attitude
in which he knelt, he could without moving see Juanita, and was probably
watching her.

The chapel was carpeted with an old and faded matting of grass such as is
made on all the coasts of the Mediterranean. Marcos and Sarrion went
forward noiselessly. Instinctively they crossed themselves as they neared
the chancel. Evasio Mon was nearest to them kneeling apart, a few paces
behind Leon. He could see every one from this position, but he did not
hear the Sarrions a few yards behind him.

At this moment Juanita turned round and perceiving them gave a little
start which Mon saw. He turned his head to the left; Sarrion was standing
in the semi-darkness at his shoulder. Then he turned to the right and
there was Marcos, motionless, with a handkerchief held to his lips.

Evasio Mon reflected for a moment; then he turned to Sarrion with his
ready smile.

"Do you come here to see me?" he whispered.

"I want you to get Juanita de Mogente away from this as quickly as
possible," returned Sarrion