“Await me here, captain,” commanded the slim, straight soldier, with face turned from the light.  A moment later the gate closed and Lorry was behind the walls of St. Valentine’s, a prisoner again.  The monk preceded them across the dark court toward the great black mass, his lantern creating ghastly shadows against the broken mist.  His followers dropped some little distance behind, the tall one’s arm stealing about the other’s waist, his head bending to a level with hers.

“Is it to be good-by, dearest?” he asked.  “Good-by forever?”

“I cannot say that.  It would be like wishing you dead.  Yet there is no hope.  No, no!  We will not say good-by,—­forever,” she said, despairingly.

“Won’t you bid me hope?”

“Impossible!  You will stay here until Quinnox comes to take you away.  Then you must not stop until you are in your own land.  We may meet again.”

“Yes, by my soul, we shall meet again!  I’ll do as you bid and all that, but I’ll come back when I can stay away no longer.  Go to your castle and look forward to the day that will find me at your feet again.  It is bound to come.  But how are you to return to the castle tonight and enter without creating suspicion?  Have you thought of that?”

“Am I a child?  Inside of three hours I shall be safely in my bed and but one person in the castle will be the wiser for my absence.  Here are the portals.”  They passed inside the massive doors and halted.  “You must remain here until I have seen the prior,” she said, laughing nervously and glancing down at the boots which showed beneath the long coat.  Then she hastily followed the monk, disappearing down the corridor.  In ten minutes—­ten hours to Lorry—­she returned with her guide.

“He will take you to your room,” she said breathlessly, displaying unmistakable signs of embarrassment.  “The prior was shocked.  Good-by, and God be with you always.  Remember, I love you!”

The monk’s back was turned, so the new recluse snatched the slight figure to his heart.

“Some day?” he whispered.

She would not speak, but he held leer until she nodded her head.

XX

THE APPROACHING ORDEAL

“The American has escaped!” was the cry that spread through Edelweiss the next morning.

It brought undisguised relief to the faces of thousands; there was not one who upbraided Baron Dangloss for his astounding negligence.  Never before had a criminal escaped from the Tower.  The only excuse, uttered in woebegone tone, was that the prison had not been constructed or manned for such clever scoundrels as Yankees—­good name for audacity.  But as nobody criticised, his explanation was taken good-naturedly and there was secret rejoicing in the city.  Of course, everybody wondered where the prisoner had gone; most of them feared that he could not escape the officers, while others shrewdly smiled and expressed themselves as confident that so clever a gentleman could not be caught.  They marveled at his boldness, his ingenuity, his assurance.