Felix lifted himself slowly to his feet, as would a man in a hospital ward who sees the doctor approaching.

“Yes, let him in; I was going to look him up.”  He was relieved at the interruption.  Kitty’s appeal had deeply stirred him, but had not swerved him from his purpose.  He had done his duty—­all of it, to the very last.  The day’s developments had ended everything.  He had no right to bring a criminal into his family.

Kitty swung wide the door and Father Cruse stepped in.  He wore his heavy cassock, which was flecked with snow, and his wide hat.

“My messenger told me you were here, Mr. O’Day,” he cried out, in a cheery voice, “and I came at once.  And, Mrs. Cleary, I am more than glad to find you here as well.”

Felix stepped forward.  “It was very good of you, Father.  I was coming down to see you in a few minutes.”  They had shaken hands and the three stood together.

The priest glanced in question at Kitty, then back again at Felix.  “Does Mrs. Cleary—­”

“Yes, Mrs. Cleary knows,” returned Felix calmly.  “I have told her everything.  Lady Barbara—­” he paused, the words were strangling him, “has been arrested —­for stealing—­and is now in the Tombs prison.”

Father Cruse laid his hand on O’Day’s shoulder.  “No, my friend, she is not in the Tombs.  I took her to St. Barnabas’s Home and put her in charge of the Sisters.”

Felix straightened his back.  “You have saved her from it.”

“Yes, two hours ago.  And she can stay there until the matter is settled, or just as long as you wish it.”  His hand was still on O’Day’s shoulder, his mind intent on the drawn features, seamed with the furrows the last few hours had ploughed.  He saw how he had suffered.

Felix stretched out his hand as if to steady himself, motioned the priest to a chair, and sank into his own.

“In the Sisters’ Home,” he repeated mechanically, after a moment’s silence.  Then rousing himself:  “And you will see her, Father, from time to time?”

“Yes, every day.  Why do you ask such a question—­ of me, in particular?”

“Because,” replied Felix slowly, “I may be away—­ out of the country.  I have just asked Mrs. Cleary to look after Masie and she has promised she will.  And I am going to ask you to look after my poor wife.  They must be very gentle with her—­and they should not judge her too harshly.”  He seemed to be talking at random, thinking aloud rather than addressing his companions.  “Since I saw you I have received a letter from my solicitor.  There is some money coming to me, he says, and I shall see that she is not a burden to you.”

The priest turned abruptly, and laid a firm hand on O’Day’s knee.  “But you will see her, of course?”

“No, it is better that you act for me.  She will not want to see me in her present condition.”

Kitty was about to protest, when Father Cruse waved her into silence.  “You certainly cannot mean what you have just said, Mr. O’Day?”