He sighed. Then suddenly the gray eyes lighted, became both shrewd and
distant; a malicious little smile stole about the corners of his mouth.
"Have-got! The credit's yours, Nesbit. Accident: can do. And this
one--by Jove, it won't leave either of 'em a leg to stand on!--Here,
mafoo, makee finish!"

He sprang up, clapped a helmet on the shorn head, and stalked out into
the sunlight.

"Come on," he called. "It's nearly time. We must pick up our young
Hotspur."

The clerk followed, through the glowing compound and the road. In the
shade of the nunnery gate they found Rudolph, who, raising his rattan,
saluted them with a pale and stoic gravity.

"Are we ready?" he asked; and turning, took a slow, cool survey of the
nunnery, as though looking his last--from the ditch at their feet to the
red tiles, patched with bronze mould, that capped the walls and the
roof. "I never left any place with less regret. Come, let's go."

The three men had covered some ground before Rudolph broke the silence.

"You'll find a few little things up there in my strong-box, Maurice.
Some are marked for you, and the rest--will you send them Home, please?"
He hesitated. "I hope neither of you will misunderstand me. I'm horribly
afraid, but not--but only because this fellow will make me look absurd.
If I knew the first motion!" He broke out angrily. "I cannot bear to
have him laugh, also! I cannot bear!"