Her hand gripped his more tightly, and again her eyes went round the room.

With great difficulty Percy repressed a sigh.  Yet he dared not leave her just now.  The house was very still; only from outside now and again sounded the clang of the cars, as they sped countrywards again from the congested town, and once the sound of great shouting.  He wondered what time it was.

“Had you better tell me now?” he asked, still talking with a patient simplicity.  “What time will they be back?”

“Not yet,” she whispered.  “Mabel said not till two o’clock.  What time is it now, father?”

He pulled out his watch with his disengaged hand.

“It is not yet one,” he said.

“Very well, listen, father....  I was in this house; and I heard that talking; and I ran along the passages, till I saw light below a door; and then I stopped....  Nearer, father.”

Percy was a little awed in spite of himself.  Her voice had suddenly dropped to a whisper, and her old eyes seemed to hold him strangely.

“I stopped, father; I dared not go in.  I could hear the talking, and I could see the light; and I dared not go in.  Father, it was Felsenburgh in that room.”

From beneath came the sudden snap of a door; then the sound of footsteps.  Percy turned his head abruptly, and at the same moment heard a swift indrawn breath from the old woman.

“Hush!” he said.  “Who is that?”

Two voices were talking in the hall below now, and at the sound the old woman relaxed her hold.

“I—­I thought it to be him,” she murmured.

Percy stood up; he could see that she did not understand the situation.

“Yes, my child,” he said quietly, “but who is it?”

“My son and his wife,” she said; then her face changed once more.  “Why—­why, father—–­”

Her voice died in her throat, as a step vibrated outside.  For a moment there was complete silence; then a whisper, plainly audible, in a girl’s voice.

“Why, her light is burning.  Come in, Oliver, but softly.”

Then the handle turned.

CHAPTER V

I

There was an exclamation, then silence, as a tall, beautiful girl with flushed face and shining grey eyes came forward and stopped, followed by a man whom Percy knew at once from his pictures.  A little whimpering sounded from the bed, and the priest lifted his hand instinctively to silence it.

“Why,” said Mabel; and then stared at the man with the young face and the white hair.

Oliver opened his lips and closed them again.  He, too, had a strange excitement in his face.  Then he spoke.

“Who is this?” he said deliberately.

“Oliver,” cried the girl, turning to him abruptly, “this is the priest I saw—–­”

“A priest!” said the other, and came forward a step.  “Why, I thought—–­”