As soon as it was brought, a few drops were forced down the throat of the fainting man, who soon began to show signs of recovery.

"I should like to put my patient to bed, madam; but the nearest farm-house is still too far off for him to be conveyed thither in safety.

The motion would start his wound to bleeding again, and the hemorrhage might prove fatal," said the surgeon suggestively.

The abbess took the hint.

"Of course," she said, "the poor wounded man must remain here. I will have a room prepared for him in our Old Men's Home. It will not take ten minutes to get the room ready, and carry him to it. Can you wait so long, good Doctor?"

"a.s.suredly, madam," answered the surgeon.

The abbess gave the necessary orders to a couple of young nuns, who hurried off to obey them.

In less time than the abbess required, they came back and reported that the room was ready for the patient.

"Now, then, Monsieur le Docteur, you may remove your patient," said the abbess, courteously.

The surgeon, a.s.sisted by two of the countrymen, tenderly lifted the wounded man, and laid him on the leaf of the gate, and, preceded by an aged nun to show the way, bore him off toward the Old Men's Home.

One of the Englishmen and one of the gend'armes followed him.

The remaining two Englishmen and two gend'armes showed no disposition to depart.

The abbess was not two well pleased at this masculine invasion of her sanctuary, and so after waiting for some explanation of their presence from these strange men, she went up to them and inquired, with suggestive politeness:

"May we know, messieurs, how we can further serve you?"

"Your pardon, holy madam, but we are not willing intruders. I am Inspector Setter, of Scotland Yard, London, at your service. The wounded man is one John Scott, charged with complicity in the murder and robbery of the late Sir Lemuel Levison of Lone Castle. I bear a warrant for his arrest, countersigned by your chief of police. But for the prisoner's dying condition, we should convey him back to England immediately. As it is, we must hold him in custody here until the end," said the elder and more respectable-looking of the two Englishmen.

"I am very sorry to hear what you have to tell me; but since it seems your duty to remain here on guard for the security of your prisoner, I think it would be better that you should be nearer to him. The Old Men's Home will afford the most proper lodging for you as well as for him. One of my nuns will show you the way there, when a room near that of your wounded prisoner shall be a.s.signed you," said the abbess, with grave courtesy, as she beckoned a withered old nun to her presence, and silently directed her to lead the way for the strangers to the lodging provided for them.

"John Scott, the half brother of the Duke of Hereward, charged with complicity in the murder and robbery at Castle Lone! Well, I am more grieved than surprised," murmured the abbess to herself.

Then she sent the younger nuns and novices about their several duties, and directed one of the elders to see that the refectory was restored to order.

The abbess was about to return to her own room when she was stayed by the re-entrance of Inspector Setter, the three gend'armes, and the countrymen.

The abbess looked up in a grave inquiry at this second intrusion.

"I beg your pardon, reverend madam; I have come to report to you the condition of your wounded guest, and to relieve you of the presence of these trespa.s.sers," said Inspector Setter, indicating his companions.

"Well, monsieur, what of the wounded man?" inquired the lady.

"The surgeon has dressed his wound, but p.r.o.nounces it mortal. The man, he says, cannot live over a few days, perhaps not over a few hours. The surgeon will not leave him to-day."

"I am very sorry to hear that. Will you be so good as to tell me, monsieur, how the unfortunate man received his fatal injury? I heard--I heard--but I hope it is not true," said the abbess, shrinking from repeating the awful rumor that had reached her ears.

"You heard, holy madam, that he had committed suicide?" suggested the harder-nerved inspector.

The abbess bowed gravely.

"It is unfortunately quite true," said Inspector Setter. "You see, reverend madam, we traced him and his young--woman--I beg your reverend ladyship's pardon, holy madam--to Paris. Afterwards, we tracked them to L'Ange. We reached L'Ange this morning, and learned that our man had walked out toward the convent here. We followed, and came upon him near the south gate. I accosted him, and arrested him. He was as cool as a cuc.u.mber, and quick as lightning! Before we could suspect or prevent the action, he whipped a pistol out of his breast-pocket, and presented it at his own head. I seized his arm while his finger was on the trigger; but was too late to save him. He fired! I only changed the direction of the ball, which, instead of blowing off his head, buried itself somewhere in his body. He fell, a crowd gathered, we picked him up, took a leaf of the gate off its hinges, laid him on it, and brought him in here. That is all, your reverend ladyship. The doctor says the wound is mortal; I must remain in charge until all is over; but I don't want a body-guard, and if your ladyship's politeness will permit me. I will dismiss all these men and see them out."

"Do so, if you please, Monsieur l'Inspecteur. Oh, this is too horrible!"

said the abbess.

While she was yet speaking, the surgeon also re-entered the refectory.

"How goes it with your patient, Monsieur le Docteur?" inquired the lady.

"He will die, good madam. Velpeau himself could not save him; he knows that he will die as well as we do, for he has recovered consciousness, and desired that a telegram be sent off immediately to summon the Duke of Hereward, whom he seems extremely anxious to see. I have written the message; here it is. I cannot leave my patient, or I would take it myself; but Monsieur l'Inspecteur, perhaps you can provide me with a messenger to carry this to L'Ange," said the surgeon.

"Certainly," agreed Mr. Setter, taking the written message and reading it. "But you have directed this to Hereward House, Piccadilly, London?"

"I wrote it at the dictation of my patient."

"He is mistaken. The Duke of Hereward is living in Paris, at Meurice's.

I will make the correction," said Mr. Setter, drawing from his pocket a lead pencil and a blank-book, upon a leaf of which he re-wrote the message. He tore out the leaf, and read what he had written:

"To HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF HEREWARD, MEURICE'S, PARIS: I am dying. Come immediately.

"JOHN SCOTT, Convent of St. Rosalie, L'Ange."

"That will do," said Mr. Setter, inspecting his work. "Now, Smith," he added, handing the paper to one of his officers, "hurry with this message to the telegraph office at the railway station at L'Ange. See that it is sent off promptly, for it is a matter of life and death, as you know.

Wait for an answer, and when you get it hasten back with it."

"All right, sir," answered the man, taking the paper, and hurrying away.

The other men, whose services were no longer required, followed him out to go about their business.

The inspector and the surgeon, seeing the lady abbess about to address them, lingered.

"I hope, messieurs, that you will freely call upon us for anything that may be needed for the relief of your patient, or for the convenience of yourselves," she said, with grave courtesy.

"Thanks, madame, we will do so," replied the surgeon, with a deep bow.

"And, above all, the interests of his immortal soul should be taken care of. If he should need spiritual comfort, here is Father Garbennetti, who will wait on him," added the abbess, solemnly.

"Your ladyship's holiness is very good. I happen to know the man is a Romanist, and if he should ask for a priest, I will let your reverend ladyship know," said Mr. Setter.

"Do so. Monsieur l'Inspecteur. And tell him the name of the priest I proposed for him--Father Garbennetti, of San Vito, Italy; for I have reason to believe that this holy father once knew your patient very intimately," added the abbess.

"Stay, now--what was the priest's name again? I never can get the name of these foreigners," muttered Mr. Setter, with a puzzled air.

"Father Garbennetti, of San Vito, Italy. But I will write it for you.

Lend me your pencil and tablets, monsieur, if you please."

Mr. Setter placed his pocket writing material in the hands of the lady, with his best bow.

She carefully wrote the name of the Italian priest on a blank leaf and returned the pencil and the book to the inspector, who received them with another bow.