“Give it to the porter. Tell him it comes from the former chaplain--you remember. Say it concerns a matter of great importance, and ask him to send it up to the dormitories immediately. Then----” “Well?” “Then _she_ must tell you what to do next.” “But if she is out?” “She may be-this is New Year's Eve.” “Ah!” “Wait in the porch till she comes in again.” John's impetuous will was carrying everything before it, and the helpless creature began to overwhelm him with grateful blessings. “Pooh! We'll not talk of that.... Have you any money?” “No.” “Neither have I. I brought nothing here except the little in my purse, and I gave that up on entering.” “I don't want any--I can walk.” “It will take you an hour then.” A clock was striking somewhere. “Hush! One, two, three ... eleven o'clock. It will be midnight when you get there. Now go!” The key was grating in the lock of the gate. “Remember Lauds at six in the morning.” “I'll be back at five.” “And I'll open the gate at 5.30. Only six hours to do everything.” “Good-night, then.” “Wait!” “What is it?” Paul was in the street, but John was in the darkness of the passage. “Very likely you'll cross London in a cab with her.” “My sister?” “Your sister went to live somewhere in St. John's Wood, I remember.” “St. John's Wood?” “Tell her”--John was striving to keep his voice firm--“tell her I am happy--and cheerful--and looking strong and well, you know.” “But you're not. You're too good, and you're wearing away in my----” “Tell her I am often thinking of her, and if she has anything to say--anything to send--any word--any message ... it can't be displeasing to the Almighty.... But no matter! Go, go!” The key had grated in the lock again, the lay brother was gone, and John was left alone. “God pity and forgive me!” he muttered, and then he turned away. The traffic in the streets was increasing every moment, and as he stumbled across the courtyard a drunken man going by the gate stopped and cried into the passage, “Helloa, there! I'm a-watchin' of ye!” The bloodhound leaped up and barked, but John hurried into the house and clashed the door. He sat on the form and tried to compose himself. He thought of Paul as he had seen him at the last moment--the captured eagle with the broken wing scudding into the night, the night of London, but free, free! In his mind's eye he followed him through the streets--down Bishopsgate Street into Threadneedle Street and along Cheapside to St. Paul's churchyard. Crowds of people would be there to-night waiting for the striking of the clock at midnight that they might raise a shout and wish each other a happy New Year. That made him think of Glory. She would be there too, for she loved a rich and abounding life. He could see her quite plainly in the midst of the throng with her sparkling eyes and bounding step. It would be so new to her, so human and so beautiful! Glory! Always Glory!