"
He and the three men-at-arms knelt in the rain and sent up their
simple orisons, Simon still clutching tight to his prisoner's
wrist.
The priest fumbled in his breast and drew something forth. "It is
the heart of the blessed confessor Saint Enogat," said he. "It
may be that it will ease and assoil your souls if you would wish
to handle it."
The four Englishmen passed the flat silver case from hand to hand,
each pressing his lips devoutly upon it. Then they rose to their
feet. Nigel was the first to lower himself down the hole; then
Simon; then the priest, who was instantly seized by the other two.
The men-at-arms followed them. They had scarcely moved away from
the hole when Nigel stopped.
"Surely some one else came after us," said he.
They listened, but no whisper or rustle came from behind them.
For a minute they paused and then resumed their journey through
the dark. It seemed a long, long way, though in truth it was but
a few hundred yards before they came to a door with a glimmer of
yellow light around it, which barred their passage. Nigel struck
upon it with his hand.
There was the rasping of a bolt and then a loud voice "Is that
you, priest?"
"Yes, it is I," said the prisoner in a quavering voice. "Open,
Arnold!"
The voice was enough. There was no question of passwords. The
door swung inward, and in an instant the janitor was cut down by
Nigel and Simon.
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