because we met each other hereaway. They've a thought that, maybe,
Pretty Pierre has taken refuge with you. They'll little like to disturb
you, I know. But with dead in your house, and you givin' the word of
truth, which none other could fall from your lips, they'll go on their
way to look elsewhere."

The priest's face was pinched, and there was a wrench at his heart. He
turned to the others. A trooper stepped forward.

"Father Corraine," he said, "it is my duty to search your house; but not
a foot will I stretch across your threshold if you say no, and give the
word that the man is not with you."

"Corporal McGann," said the priest, "the woman whom I thought was dead
did not die, as you shall see. There is no need for inquiry. But she
will go with you to Fort Cypress. As for the other, you say that Father
Corraine's threshold is his own, and at his own command. His home is now
a sanctuary--for the afflicted." He went towards the door. As he did
so, Mary Callen, who had been listening inside the room with shaking
frame and bursting heart, dropped on her knees beside the table, her head
in her arms. The door opened. "See," said the priest, "a woman who is
injured and suffering."

"Ah," rejoined the trooper, "perhaps it is the woman who was riding with
the half-breed. We found her dead horse."

The priest nodded. Shon McGann looked at the crouching figure by the
table pityingly. As he looked he was stirred, he knew not why. And she,
though she did not look, knew that his gaze was on her; and all her will
was spent in holding her eyes from his face, and from crying out to him.