“Who was my lord looking for?” That was the question in Father Benwell’s mind, while he put some of the books away on the shelves, and collected the scattered papers on the table, relating to his correspondence with Rome.  It had become a habit of his life to be suspicious of any circumstances occurring within his range of observation, for which he was unable to account.  He might have felt some stronger emotion on this occasion, if he had known that the conspiracy in the library to convert Romayne was matched by the conspiracy in the picture gallery to marry him.

Lady Loring’s narrative of the conversation which had taken place between Stella and herself had encouraged her husband to try his proposed experiment without delay.  “I shall send a letter at once to Romayne’s hotel,” he said.

“Inviting him to come here to-day?” her ladyship inquired.

“Yes.  I shall say I particularly wish to consult him about a picture.  Are we to prepare Stella to see him? or would it be better to let the meeting take her by surprise?”

“Certainly not!” said Lady Loring.  “With her sensitive disposition, I am afraid of taking Stella by surprise.  Let me only tell her that Romayne is the original of her portrait, and that he is likely to call on you to see the picture to-day—­and leave the rest to me.”

Lady Loring’s suggestion was immediately carried out.  In the first fervor of her agitation, Stella had declared that her courage was not equal to a meeting with Romayne on that day.  Becoming more composed, she yielded to Lady Loring’s persuasion so far as to promise that she would at least make the attempt to follow her friend to the gallery.  “If I go down with you,” she said, “it will look as if we had arranged the thing between us.  I can’t bear even to think of that.  Let me look in by myself, as if it was by accident.”  Consenting to this arrangement, Lady Loring had proceeded alone to the gallery, when Romayne’s visit was announced.  The minutes passed, and Stella did not appear.  It was quite possible that she might shrink from openly presenting herself at the main entrance to the gallery, and might prefer—­especially if she was not aware of the priest’s presence in the room—­to slip in quietly by the library door.  Failing to find her, on putting this idea to the test, Lord Loring had discovered Penrose, and had so hastened the introduction of the younger of the two Jesuits to Romayne.

Having gathered his papers together, Father Benwell crossed the library to the deep bow-window which lighted the room, and opened his dispatch-box, standing on a small table in the recess.  Placed in this position, he was invisible to any person entering the room by the hall door.  He had secured his papers in the dispatch-box, and had just closed and locked it, when he heard the door cautiously opened.

The instant afterward the rustling of a woman’s dress over the carpet caught his ear.  Other men might have walked out of the recess and shown themselves.  Father Benwell stayed where he was, and waited until the lady crossed his range of view.