brightly in the light of the altar lamp. Now, a ring upon a
friar's hand is an impossibility, since they are vowed to
absolute poverty.

I turned quickly and made for the door of the chapel, but the
mischief was done. As I glanced back I saw that the Mother
Superior was already hurrying after me. I ran through the chapel
door and along the corridor, but she called out some shrill
warning to the two guards in front. Fortunately I had the
presence of mind to call out also, and to point down the passage
as if we were both pursuing the same object. Next instant I had
dashed past them, sprang into the cell, slammed the heavy door,
and fastened it upon the inside.

With a bolt above and below and a huge lock in the centre it was
a piece of timber that would take some forcing.

Even now if they had had the wit to put a barrel of powder
against the door I should have been ruined. It was their only
chance, for I had come to the final stage of my adventure. Here
at last, after such a string of dangers as few men have ever
lived to talk of, I was at one end of the powder train, with the
Saragossa magazine at the other. They were howling like wolves
out in the passage, and muskets were crashing against the door.
I paid no heed to their clamour, but I looked eagerly around for
that train of which Hubert had spoken. Of course, it must be at
the side of the room next to the magazine. I crawled along it on
my hands and knees, looking into every crevice, but no sign could
I see. Two bullets flew through the door and flattened
themselves against the wall. The thudding and smashing grew ever