same boat which was carrying General Dixon to France. The latter, with
what General Ireton had called "his blunt hypocrisy," frankly related to
Henry the motives that had influenced him in the part that he had
played.

Arrived at Calais, the two men journeyed some part of the way together,
and before they separated Henry discovered something of the real
character of his companion by his familiarity with certain broken-down
Cavaliers, who, having lost all right to the title of gentlemen in their
own country, eked out a living by brigandage in France. After they had
separated, Henry lost his way, and arriving at night, drenched through
with the rain, at a certain chateau, begged its hospitality for a night.

He was led into the dining-room, and introduced to another guest who was
there--a Benedictine monk.

That night, while Henry lay in bed, he was startled to see the monk
standing by his side. He had come, he said, to ask him several
questions. In particular he wished to know whether his brother Frank had
married Lady Emily Langleigh. When Henry related how the marriage had
been prevented, the Benedictine suddenly sprang to his feet in a fury of
rage. When calmer, he asked Henry whether Frank had come to France
alone; but on this subject the young man preserved a discreet silence,
and after a few more questions, which proved the monk's extraordinary
familiarity with all Walter Dixon's intrigues at Penford-bourne, he left
the room.

The following day, Henry bade farewell to his courteous host, and made
his way to Dinan. There he found that the convent in which he had left
the two ladies had been burnt down; and he learnt that a strange