by lack of success, Angela stopped them.

"It's no use," she said. "He isn't going to hear. And I shall have
hysterics or something idiotic if you keep on for one more minute."

"I was thinking of trying another way," said Nick, still painfully
cheerful.

"What other way?--since even Samson couldn't batter down the door."

"A lot simpler than battering. Climb out of a window."

"Too high," said Angela.

"No. I can manage all right. I'll get out, find the Padre, and----"

"And leave me here in the dark? No!"

"But there'll be Billy."

"Let Billy go," Angela half whispered, "and you stay with me. Supposing
you went, and the Padre wasn't there, and--and you weren't able to get
back. Oh, I couldn't bear _that_!"

Never had Nick known so exquisite a moment. He was sorry this queer,
mysterious accident had happened, because it seemed to reflect somehow on
his intelligence and foresight as a guide. And he hated to have Angela
distressed. But--after his strivings with jealousy, and his defeat--it was
balm that she should depend upon him, and want him with her in this
adventure.