descendants.

But the boy, Edward Fulton, sleeping in the chapel of the great
cathedral, knew nothing of it all. Nature, too long defrauded, was
claiming payment of her debt, and he slept peacefully on, although the
hours passed and noon came.

The church had long been open. Priests came and went in the aisles, and
entered some of the chapels. Worshipers, most of them women, knelt
before the shrines. Service was held at the high altar, and the odor of
incense filled the great nave. Yet the boy was still in sanctuary, and a
kindly angel was watching over him. No one entered the chapel in which
he slept.

It was almost the middle of the afternoon when he awoke. He heard a
faint murmur of voices and a pleasant odor came to his nostrils. He
quickly remembered everything, and, stirring a little on his wooden
couch he found a certain stiffness in the joints. He realized however
that all his strength had come back.

But Ned Fulton understood, although he had escaped from prison and had
found shelter and sanctuary in the cathedral, that he was yet in an
extremely precarious position. The murmur of voices told him that people
were in the church, and he had no doubt that the odor came from burning
incense.

A little light from the narrow window fell upon him. It came through
colored glass, and made red and blue splotches on his hands, at which he
looked curiously. He knew that it was a brilliant day outside, and he
longed for air and exercise, but he dared not move except to stretch his