When John Storm entered the dark room, candle in hand, Brother Paul was standing in the middle of the floor with one hand outstretched and a ghastly and appalling smile upon his face. He was pale as death, his eyes were ablaze, his forehead was streaming with perspiration, and he was breathing from the depths of his chest. He wiped the dews from his brow and said in a choking voice, “He has died as he lived--a liar and a scoundrel!” John took him by the hand and drew him to the bed, and, putting him to sit there, he tried to soothe and comfort him. He was terrified at first by the sound of his own voice, but the sophism that had served to bring him, served to support him also, and he told himself it could be no breach of the rule of silence to speak to one who was not there. The delirium of the lay brother spent itself at length, and he fell into a deep sleep. Next day, when Brother Andrew came to John's cell with the food, he began to sing as if to himself while he bustled about the room. “Brother Paul is sinking--he is sinking rapidly--Father Jerrold has confessed him--he has taken the sacrament--and is very patient.” This, as if it had been a Gregorian chant, the great fellow had hit upon as a means of communicating with John without breaking the rule and committing sin. John did not lock his door on the following night. On going to bed he listened for the noises he had heard before, half fearing and yet half wishing that he might hear them again. But he heard nothing, and toward midnight he fell asleep. Something made him shudder, and he awoke with the sensation of moonlight on his face. The moon was indeed shining, and its sepulchral light was on a figure that stood by the foot of the bed. It was Paul, with a livid face, murmuring his name in a voice almost as faint as a breath. John leaped up and put his arms about him. “You are ill, brother--very ill.” “I am dying.” “Help! help!” cried John, and he made for the door. “Hush, brother, hush!” “Oh, I don't care for rule. Rule is nothing in a case like this. And, besides, it is an understood thing---- Help!” “I implore you, I conjure you!” said Paul in a voice strangled by weakness. “Let them leave us together a little longer. It was by my own wish that I was left alone. I have something to say to you--something to confess. I have to ask your pardon.” In two strides John had reached the door, but he came back without opening it. “Why, my poor lad, what have you done to me?” “When you let me out of the house to go in search of my sister----” “That was long ago; we'll not talk of it now, brother.” “But I can not die in peace without telling you. You remember that I had something to say to her?” “Yes.” “It was a threat. I was going to tell her that unless she gave up her way of life I should find the man who had been the cause of it and follow him up and kill him.” “It was only a temptation of the devil, brother, and it is past; and now----”