the priesthood has enormous
power, if they only knew it."

The tinkle of a bicycle bell sounded down the road behind them.
Maggie wheeled on the instant, and caught the profile she was
expecting.

"Is that you?" she said, as the rider passed.

The man jumped off, touched his hat, and handed her a note. She tore
it open, and glanced through it in the light of the bicycle lamp. Then
she crumpled it up and threw it into the ditch with a quick, impatient
movement.

"All right," she said. "Good night."

The gardener mounted his bicycle again and moved off.

"Well?" said the old man.

"Father Mahon's called away suddenly. It's from his housekeeper.
He'll only be back in time for the first mass tomorrow."

The other nodded, three or four times, as if in assent.

"Why do you do that?" asked the girl suddenly.

"It is what I should have expected to happen."

"What! Father Mahon?--Do you mean it ... it is arranged?"

"I know nothing. It may be coincidence. Speak no more of it. You have
the facts to think of."

About them as they walked back in silence lay the quiet spring night.
From the direction of the hamlet came the banging of a door, then
voices wishing good night, and the sound of footsteps. The steps
passed the end of the lane and died away again. Over the trees to the
right were visible the high twisted chimney of the old house where the
terror dwelt.

"Two points then to remember," said the voice in the
darkness--"Courage and Love. Can you remember?"

Maggie bowed her head again in answer.

"I will call and ask to see you as soon as the household is up. If you
can't see me, I shall understand that things are going well--or you
can send out a note to me. As for Mrs. Baxter--"

"I shall not say one word to her until it becomes absolutely
necessary. And if--"

"If it becomes necessary I will wire for a doctor from town. I will
undertake all the preliminary arrangements, if you will allow me."

Ten steps before the corner they stopped.

"God bless you, Miss Deronnais. Remember, I am at the inn if you need
me."

IV

Mrs. Baxter dined placidly in bed at about half-past seven; but she
was more sleepy than ever when she had done. She was rash enough to
drink a little claret and water.

"It always goes straight to my head, Charlotte," she explained. "Well,
set the book--no, not that one--the one bound in white parchment....
Yes, just so, down here; and turn the reading lamp so that I can read
i