Service over, the two friends passed out together, and waited for Clarke, who came quietly forth, his face alight with the shining of the Spirit, which was so noticeable in him after any religious exercise.

He greeted them both in brotherly fashion, and gladly welcomed them to his lodging.

There was something very characteristic of the man in the big, bare room he inhabited.  It was spotlessly clean—­more clean than any servant would keep it, though the canons of Cardinal College were permitted a certain amount of service from paid menials.  The scanty furniture was of the plainest.  There was nothing on the floor to cover the bare boards.  Two shelves of books displayed his most precious possessions; the rest of his household goods were ranged in a small cupboard in a recess.  His bed was a pallet, covered by one blanket.  There was no fire burning on his hearth.  Several benches ranged along the walls, and a rather large table, upon which a number of books and papers lay, stood in the middle of the room.  One corner had been partitioned off, and was very plainly fitted up as an oratory.  A beautiful crucifix in ivory was the only object of value in all the room.

Arthur and Anthony both knew the place well, but neither entered it without a renewed sensation impossible to define.

“It is the abode of peace and of prayer,” Dalaber had once said to Freda, describing the lodging to her.  “You seem to feel it and to breathe it in the very air.  However worn and anxious, fretful or irate, you are when you enter, a hush of peace descends upon your spirit, like the soft fluttering of the wings of a dove.  Your burden falls away; you know not how.  You go forth refreshed and strengthened in the inner man.  Your darkness of spirit is flooded by a great light.”

They sat down in the failing gleams of the setting sun, and Dalaber told of Garret’s night and the errand on which he was bound.  Arthur smiled, and slightly shrugged his shoulders; but the confidence his friend unconsciously put in him by these revelations was sacred to him.  He had not desired to know; but at least the secret was safe with him.

“He will not go there,” said Clarke, as he heard the tale.

“Not go to my brother?” questioned Dalaber quickly.

“No, he will not go there.  I know the man too well to believe it.  The impulse for flight came upon him, and he was persuaded that it might be an open door.  But he will not carry the plan through.  His conscience will not permit him to hire himself under a false name to a man who believes him an orthodox priest holding his own views.  Garret will never do that, and he will be right not to do it.  It would be a false step.  One may not tamper with the truth, nor act deceitfully in holy things.”

Then Arthur Cole began to speak, and to tell Clarke what had happened with regard to the cardinal and the heads of various houses, and how his own name had been set down as one who was suspected of the taint of heresy.