was so mum. I reckon the Padre must have been away--though why he left the
key in the door beats me--and coming back he locked up for the night.
Unless he went around in the direction of the auto he wouldn't have seen
it. If he looked in here, of course he'd have thought the church empty,
we being in the gallery. And it's late in the day now, so late he wouldn't
expect visitors."

"It's so 'late in the day' that it's night!" cried Angela. "Another reason
for his not seeing the motor."

"Not quite night yet! And I'm going down to make all the noise I can at
the door, assisted by Billy. There'll be such a din, between the two of
us, you'll want to stop your ears, and as for the Padre, he'll come
trotting as fast as his legs will carry him, to stop the row." Nick
laughed so jovially that Angela began to be seriously concerned. If it
were necessary to assume such gaiety he must regard the situation as
desperate. She remembered how far away was the sole occupied room among
the many empty, echoing cells.

Nick helped her down the steep stairway, and the touch of his hand upon
her arm was comforting. It was cold in the darkening church, and she felt
the chill more in imagination than in body; yet she shivered.

"What if we have to stay here all night?" she thought. But she kept the
thought to herself.

Nick and Billy took turns in pounding on the door, shouting, "Hi, Padre!"
then doing it together; but the separate and combined noises,
ear-splitting inside the church, produced no result. The dreamy silence
was shattered in vain, and at last, when the two refused to be discouraged