“Great heaven! what have I brought you to in my folly?” groaned Quentin, covering his face with his hands. “Open the gate!” called a hoarse voice outside the wall, and every heart stopped beating, every face went white. A heavy boot crashed against the gate. “The officers!” whispered Lady Jane, in terror. Dickey Savage's arm went round her. “Let me in! Git a move on!' “It's Turk!” roared Quentin, springing toward the gate. An instant later Turk was sprawling inside the circle of light shed by the lantern, and a half-dozen voices were hurling questions at him. The little man was in a sorry plight. He was dirt-covered and bloody, and he was so full of blasphemy that he choked in suppressing it. “Where is she? Where have you been?” cried Quentin, shaking him violently in his agitation. “Gimme time, gimme time!” panted Turk. “I've got to git my breath, ain't I? She's flew th' coop, an' I couldn't head her off. Say, has a priest been loafin' aroun' here lately?” “A priest!” cried Lord Bob. “There hasn't been one here since Father Bivot came three years ago to--” “I mean this week, not t'ree years ago. She's gone with a priest, an' I'm nex' to who he is, too. He ain't no more priest 'n I am. It's that French detective, Courant, an' he's worked us to a fare-you-well. He's th' boy!” This startling news threw the party into deeper consternation than before. The little ex-burglar was not a fluent talker at best, but he now excelled himself in brevity. In three minutes he had concluded his story, and preparations were well under way for the pursuit. He was, according to his narrative, sitting in the lower end of the courtyard about nine o'clock, calmly smoking his pipe, when his attention was caught by the long, shrill call of a night bird. No such sound had come to his ears during his stay at the castle, and his curiosity was aroused. Not dreaming of what was to follow, he slowly walked toward the front of the castle. A woman stood in the shadow of the wall near the gate. Hardly had his eyes made out the dim figure when the whistle was repeated. Before he fully grasped the situation, the big gate swung slowly inward and another figure, at first glance that of a woman, stood inside the wall. He heard the woman call softly: “Is that you, Father?” A man's voice replied, but the words were too low to be distinguished. The woman drew back as if to return to the house, but the newcomer was at her side, and his hand was on her arm.