"My God!"

It was a great shock to Paul. Hitherto he had feared only one thing: that the story of his father's tragical death might come to light, and break his mother's heart. Now there was more to fear,—far more. He looked into Father Adrian's face with a new and keener interest. He recognised at once that everything dear to him in life might be at this man's mercy.

"You were intrusted with this secret by a dying man," Paul said, with a little hoarseness in his tone. "It is to you as the secrets of the confessional!"

The priest shook his head gently. "He refused to confess. He told me distinctly that it was as man to man he spoke to me."

Paul looked away into the night with white, stricken face, and cursed his father's weakness. Supposing that this priest had discovered that his conscience would not allow him to keep the secret! What more [pg 78] likely! Why else was he here,—why else did he disclaim the confessional? There was only one other alternative! Perhaps he desired to trade upon his secret. Yet how was that possible? Of what use could money be to him? What could he gain by it? Besides, his was not the face of an adventurer.

[pg 78]

"I do not understand," Paul said at last. "Once more let me ask you, Father Adrian, why are you here?"

Father Adrian looked thoughtfully away. "You ask more than I can tell you," he said gravely. "The time has not yet come. We shall meet again. Farewell!"

The priest turned away, but Paul laid his hand on his shoulder.

"If there is anything which you ought or mean to tell me, tell me now," he demanded hoarsely. "I can bear everything but suspense. I know only—that there was a secret. No more. Proceed! Tell me more!"

The priest shook his robe free from Paul's restraining hand, and turned away.

"Not yet! Not yet! My mind is not yet clear. We shall meet again. Farewell!"

"But——"

"Farewell!"

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