There came a knocking at the gate, and the jangle of a bell; and he went across quickly and unbarred the door.

Mr. Morris was there on horseback, a couple of saddlebags strapped to his beast; and a little group of loungers stood behind.

Chris smiled with delight, and threw the door wide.

The servant saluted him and then turned to the group behind.

“You have no authority,” he said, “as to my going in.”

Then he rode through; and Chris barred the gate behind him, glancing as he did so at the curious faces that stared silently.

Mr. Morris said nothing till he had led his horse into the stable.  Then he explained.

“One of the fellows told me, sir, that this was the King’s house now; and that I had no business here.”

Chris smiled again.

“I know we are watched,” he said, “the servants are questioned each time they set foot outside.”

Mr. Morris pursed his lips.

“How long shall you be here, sir?” he asked.

“Until we are turned out,” said Chris.

* * * * *

It was true, as he had said, that the house was watched.  Ever since the last monk had left there had been a man or two at the gate, another outside the church-door that opened towards the town; and another yet again beyond the stream to the south of the priory-buildings.  Dom Anthony had told him what it meant.  It was that the authorities had no objection to the two monks keeping the place until it could be dealt with, but were determined that nothing should pass out.  It had not been worthwhile to send in a caretaker, for all the valuables had been removed either by the Visitors or by the Prior when he went at night.  There were only two sets of second-best altar vessels left, and a few other comparatively worthless utensils for the use of the church and kitchen.  The great relics and the jewelled treasures had gone long before.  Chris had wondered a little at the house being disregarded for so long; but the other monk had reminded him that such things as lead and brass and bells were beyond the power of two men to move, and could keep very well until other more pressing business had been despatched elsewhere.

Mr. Morris gave him news of his father.  It had not been the true fever after all, and he would soon be here; in at any rate a week or two.  As regarded other news, there was no tidings of Mr. Ralph except that he was very busy.  Mistress Margaret was at home; no notice seemed to have been taken of her when she had been turned out with the rest at the dissolution of her convent.

It was very pleasant to see that familiar face about the cloister and refectory; or now and again, when work was done, looking up from beyond the screen as the monks came in by the sacristy door.  Once or twice on dark evenings when terror began to push through the rampart of the will that Chris had raised up, it was reassuring too to know that Morris was there, for he bore with him, as old servants do, an atmosphere of home and security, and he carried himself as well with a wonderful naturalness, as if the relief of beleaguered monks were as ordinary a duty as the cleaning of plate.