"Ah, sir! it is all over. Those who can see through the window say that
Sister Martha is lost."

Gabriel made no answer, but grasped the key of the door. Before entering
the room, however, he turned to the attendant, and said to him in a firm
voice: "Are the irons of a white heat?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then wait here, and be ready. As for you, my friends," he added, turning
to some of the sick, who shuddered with terror, "as soon as I enter shut
the door after me. I will answer for the rest. And you; friend, only
bring your irons when I call."

And the young missionary turned the key in the lock. At this juncture, a
cry of alarm, pity, and admiration rose from every lip, and the
spectators drew back from the door, with an involuntary feeling of fear.
Raising his eyes to heaven, as if to invoke its assistance at this
terrible moment, Gabriel pushed open the door, and immediately closed it
behind him. He was alone with Morok.

The lion-tamer, by a last furious effort, had almost succeeded in opening
the door, to which Sister Martha and the orphans were clinging, in a fit
of terror, uttering piercing cries. At the sound of Gabriel's footsteps,
Morok turned round suddenly. Then, instead of continuing his attack on
the closet, he sprang, with a roar and a bound, upon the new-comer.

During this time, Sister Martha and the orphans, not knowing the cause of
the sudden retreat of their assailant, took advantage of the opportunity
to close and bolt the door, and thus placed themselves in security from a