of your whereabouts."

"Wishes to see me?" ejaculated Father Ambrose, wrinkling a perplexed
brow. "I wonder what for. Can he have any knowledge of my visit to
Frankfort?"

"How could he?"

"The Archbishops possess sources of enlightenment that we wot not of. If
he charges me with being absent from my post, I must admit the fact."

"Of course. Let me confess to him as soon as he arrives; your journey
was entirely due to my persistence. I alone am to blame."

The old man slowly shook his head.

"I am at least equally culpable," he said. "I shall answer truthfully
any question asked me, but I hope I am not in the wrong if I volunteer
no information."

The girl rose.

"You could do no wrong, Father, even if you tried; and now good-night.
Sleep soundly and fear nothing. On the rare occasions when the good
Archbishop was angry with me, I have always managed to placate him, and
I shall not fail in this instance."

Father Ambrose bade her good-night, and left the room with the languid
air of one thoroughly tired. As the young Countess stood there watching
his retreat and disappearance, her dainty little fist clenched, and her