“Reverend father, door truly was made, it being once plan to take the wall down wholly, making of two cells one and using it for an infirmary. Then it was found that the light was not good, and the plan was abandoned. Stone was set back in the opening, and true it is that a rood being about that time placed in each cell, it was fastened, in this man’s and in Brother Norbert’s, against that wall. Of all his story it is the only truth! In his madness he must have torn the rood aside and seen that once there was opening, though now stone-filled and mortared. After that what Sathanas saith to him God forbid that we should know or repeat!” “Shall I believe?” whispered Montjoy. “Shall I not believe? O Isabel--O Lady near whom moveth Isabel--” Richard Englefield towered. He stretched his arms, he raised his face. “O Christ, if thou be true--O Blissful One, Eternal Virgin, if thou be real--” But summer sun shone on. It was Prior Matthew who summed up and delivered judgment in Montjoy’s hall. “Ride with us now to Silver Cross, Montjoy--and do you come also, Edmund the Preacher, and you, Master Eustace Bettany, and any and all others who will! Yea, make throng and procession! What! Shall there be division between Silver Cross and Middle Forest who have dwelled together since the Confessor’s day? Sometimes eh, Middle Forest?--we have quarrelled, but not for long, have we? Ours, after all, one bed and one hearth! Doth Silver Cross grow rich and great, it is for Middle Forest. Doth Middle Forest increase, Silver Cross goes smiling. Remember the saintly abbot--Abbot Robert--and how did he and his monks when befell the Plague! Remember war, and we stood together. And now Heaven blesseth both, and Holy Well, a thousand years from now, shall still be Holy Well!” He had it now--Mark and he had it in their four hands! If they carried it carefully, and they would do so, four hands obeying the Prior of Westforest’s head. Now for the trouble maker, the crazed one who failed to see or hear Interest though she shouted at him and pulled him by the robe! Prior Matthew gave a short order to Silver Cross monks. “Take him!” Brother Norbert, Brother Anselm, Brother Wilfrid and the others fell upon Brother Richard. Short, hard struggle, and they had him. Brother Norbert bound his arms with hempen girdle. As he still shouted accusations, at the Prior’s nod they gagged him. “Not holy man who may be holy man again, but Apollyon who now hath seized the tower and speaketh from the gate!” Montjoy sat in his lord’s chair and looked straight before him. Truth, truth--is it not profoundly likely to be here? Were it not for Hugh of Saint Leofric, could ever he have doubted it? The monk’s tale,--fantastic, like a romaunt! Say, darkly, it is true; what other can cry Aye! and strengthen it, or No! and dash it into dreams? _Who other but Morgen Fay?_ It formed in Montjoy’s mind that that harlot must be found.